Collection of awesome fake pictures

...for those of you who haven't seen them on the RFC Facebook page.
I've been adding myself and some truly wicked Fan Club members into classic photos for the last six months or so, and there's no stopping me now.  Check 'em all out!

 

Okay, I Had A Crush on Blossom

...some people might consider this to be a dark spot in their past, but fuck it, I've got no problem sharing the truth.  Yes sir, I had a crush on Blossom when I was a kid.

Chance are many of you don't remember Blossom Russo, from NBC's sitcom that also starred Joey "Whoa" Lawrence.  But I'm certain you would recognize her from The Big Bang Theory as Sheldon's 'girlfriend' Amy.  And you know what?  She's still pretty hot today.

That wasn't the punchline.  You can stop the laughter at any time.

Even as a kid I took a lot of flack for having a crush on Blossom.  Most of the boys at school would argue that Blossom's best friend and next door neighbor, Six, was the beauty on the show.  And they were right.  By TV standards, there's always one stand-out babe on the show to attract our prepubescent minds.

Saved By The Bell had Kelly Kapowski.  The Bundys were all about Kelly Bundy.  Even Full House had DJ Tanner as the shining star (though I maintain Stephanie Tanner was my first celebrity crush).  It's not that Jessie Spano or Lisa Turtle weren't attractive girls at all, no, they just stayed in the shadows.

And that's how it was with Blossom.  But there was always something funky and cool about her that I just dug.

Okay, I had a crush on Blossom.  So sue me.

Our Trip To The Dork Side

"Talk backwards, I do."

...for a while now I'd been wanting to check out the Star Wars Identities exhibit at the Canadian Aviation and Space Museum.  Some friends of mine had gone and said they'd had a blast.  And I like Star Wars.  I was fucking raised on the Force.  When I'd first heard of Identities, I just thought it was a display of props and costumes from the movies.  I mean, let's face it, getting close to Leia's metal bikini is worth the $24 admission.  There's a reason they keep that thing behind glass.  Sure, all the items are behind glass, but this bikini is like the Holy Grail of geeks everywhere.

Then I found out you get to create your own Star Wars character while you're there.

Wait.  What?

Are you to tell me that I can create my own dude, give him a lightsaber and send him off to kill Jedi?  Or better yet, I can use my lightsaber to cut Jar Jar Binks in half?  Hell, I'd be happy to just choke the fuck out him, but a lightsaber is fine too.

So I packed the car up with my wife and our own little two-year old padawan and made the drive to the museum.  We must have been traveling at ludicrous speed because we did a 2.5 hour trip in just under two hours.  I guess our 2001 Intrepid can make point five past light speed.  Shit yeah.

As we pulled onto the 417 (pretty much the busiest highway in Ottawa) our beloved little padawan got speeder sick and started throwing up.  Yep, she projectile vomited midi-chlorians all over the back of the car.  In my haste, and using my Jedi reflexes, I caught some of the puke with my reusable Starbucks cups.  That cup promptly went in the garbage.  Oh well, it only costs a dollar to replace.

Some sweet stuff to see at the Star Wars Identities exhibit.

We pulled into a random church to clean up and change the kid's clothes into something less puke-ridden.  The minister was nice enough to throw my coffee cup out for me, and I was nice enough to let him know that it was full of toddler puke.  But not until it was in his hands.  Screw that, it's his now - he touched it last.  He both smiled and looked at me oddly at the same time, and then I contemplated trying to use the Jedi Mind trick on him... this cup is not full of puke, this cup is your cup... but I just didn't have the balls to pull that one off.  For the rest of the drive up, the car smelled like vomit and rancid apple juice.  Mmmm.

We pulled into the museum and learned pretty quickly that parking was paid for by some genuine company who was holding a BBQ there.  Wow, that was pretty cool.  It seems like there are good people in this world after all.  Maybe I'd have a change of heart and not turn to the dark side.  Then we learned that our tickets also got us free admission to the actual Aviation and Space Museum.  Jeez, talk about a great disturbance in the force!

Awesome sauce.

We entered the museum, got our wristband and earpiece and began our journey into the Star Wars universe.  They give you these wristbands that allow you to interact at specific areas to help create your Star Wars character.  It's pretty cool.  You pick your home planet, your occupation, how strong the force is with you, etc etc.  The earpiece was kind of stupid though, and I actually turned it off about ten minutes into the exhibit.  If I was learning some neat facts, like "this is how Darth Vader went from concept to costume" or "these sketches depict deleted scenes from Empire Strikes Back", then it would have been great but I don't need a lecture on how our physiology has morphed over the years.  Or a talking to about how our parents help shape our lives.

After ooo-ing and ahhh-ing at all the Original Trilogy artifacts, throwing in an "I am your father" reference to my daughter that she didn't understand (she's 2), and loudly telling the Jar Jar Binks display to go fuck itself, it was time to choose - would I be a hero or join the Emperor and the Dark Side of the Force?

It wasn't a hard decision.  My wristband went right to the dark side. I'm gonna kill me some Jedi.  My wife, on the other hand, had to really think it through.  And she chose the ways of the Jedi.

"...so you're not going to turn to the dark side with me, huh?"
"No... I want to be one of the good guys."
"Hold me.  You know this is bad, right?"
"Why?"
"I'm one of the Sith now.  I pretty much have to cut you in half with my lightsaber right here.  It's like my duty or something."
"You'd never do it."

My own wife of five years wouldn't join the dark side with me!  What the shit?  What the sith?

SHE'S BREAKING MY HEART!

Unable to get over this good side/bad side thing, we decided to check out the Aviation museum.  It's pretty cool if you like museums.  It's really cool if you like planes.  My wife got a little too excited about seeing some planes with Nazi swastikas on them though.  She spent about ten minutes taking pictures of one of the planes, trying different camera settings... she really wanted to get this photo just right.  I know she has some German heritage in her, but this was a side I'd never really seen before.  My worries dissipated when I remembered seeing her eat a bagel earlier in the week.

Ryleigh in goggles, the Nazi plane, Ryleigh has the power, Ryan in space, father-daughter plane time.

The Canadian Space museum is really nothing more than some big photos of people who went to space and a space toilet.  Our daughter, who also wouldn't join the dark side with me, sat on the space potty and yet the awful poo smell in the small room was coming from one of the old men who were walking around unsupervised.

So we grabbed some dinner and prayed to Yoda that there wouldn't be any more car sickness on the way home.

And there wasn't any more puking to be had.  Celebrate the looooooooooooooooooove!

- ryan

God Spills The Beans

Repent!  Represent!

...so last night while I was dreaming, the good lord paid me a visit in my sleep.  Yep, I'm one of the fortunate, and rare millions of individuals, who have had a cameo appearance by God in one of my dreams.  Was it the five pints of Rickard's Red I drank?  Maybe the McDonald's I had afterwards?  I really don't know what caused it.

What I do know, though, is that God gave me some specific messages to pass on to everyone.  I'm sure he came to me because of my legions of adoring fans and supporters.  That has to be it.  Anyway, here's what God wants YOU to know:

His name isn't actually God.
Yeah, as it turns out there was a spelling mistake in some of the oldest texts ever printed about religion and faith.  You see, God's real name is actually Gord.  Yeah, there's supposed to be an "R" in there.  I asked him if he was shitting me, and the good lord assured me that he wasn't shitting me.

"...creating bibles and such was an expensive task back in those days because they were all done by hand.  Once the first few were printed with my name spelled wrong, I just ran with it.  I had to!  I mean, by the time anyone actually realized there was an error, people had already written hymns in which they'd rhymed my name.  I just couldn't take that away from people."

I didn't mention that Gord rhymes with Lord.  I've never been bitch-slapped before and don't want my first time to come from his Holiness.  

The creator of all things ain't down with the vegans.
He actually told me this and then showed me a recipe for cooking elephants.  Fucking elephants!  Now that's an appetite.  I asked the lord why he thinks vegans are crazy, and I actually had to cut him off because he started ranting away worse than I normally do.

"... when I created chickens and cows, the whole point was to have some eggs and milk to go along with the bacon at breakfast time.  I get a lot of flack from the apostles for giving human beings freedom of choice and, Gord-Dammit, maybe they were right."

That's when I high-fived him.  Not for his views and beliefs about vegan lifestyles, but because he took his own name in vain.  I never realized just how awesome Gord is.  Maybe I'll hang out at church more often.

The Good Lord is Big-time coupon cutter.
Yep.  Dude LOVES saving a buck on tampons.

It's a toxic shocker of a deal!

The All-Knowing doesn't know what to do with Pinterest.

Gord loves this pic because it captures his good side.

He said he tried it a few times and wasn't too sure what he was doing.  Ultimately, and this is just speculation from what he was telling me, I think he was just discouraged that nobody was re-pinning his elephant recipe.  He didn't seem too keen on keeping up with Pinterest but insisted that I accept his invitation to something called Linked-In.  I dunno.  I almost dropped a comment about "pinning" his son to the cross, but again I feared the bitch-slap from heaven.

Then Gord asked me if there was anything I was curious about.
"Actually, yeah, what's the meaning of - -"
"Anything but that.  I'm sick of people asking me that."
"Oh.  Okay.  Well, is it true that 76% of female orgasms are faked because they just want to go to sleep?"

That's when Gord shrugged his shoulders and I woke up.  Enlightened.  Two things became crystal clear to me in that moment - it was up to me to pass these messages on from Gord... and I really had to pee.  Challenge accepted!

- ryan

I Just Wanna Punch Dora (and a few others) Right In The Mouth

...have you ever sat through an episode of Dora The Explorer?  You have?  I'm sorry to hear that, but at least you surely understand the feeling I get whenever I see her - I just want to punch her right in her stupid freaking mouth.

...it's like a target.  For my fist.

Now, it's pretty common for parents to have a hate-on for certain cartoon characters.  I think it all started with Barney in the early 90s.  That was the turning point.  At that point it's like all the goodness that lived within the confines of Sesame Street ceased to exist and was replaced by our anger towards fictional characters.

Now, I hardly think it's as bad today as it has been over the past twenty years or so.  With new shows like Bubble Guppies, Octonauts, Jake & The Neverland Pirates, and a few others, it's actually become kind of enjoyable to watch some of your children's shows with them.

But then I see stupid Dora on TV and I just wanna punch her in the mouth.

 She's not the only one, either.  I find myself telling Mike The Knight to go fuck himself when his theme song starts to play. 

...let the swearing begin.

Then there's Caillou...that whiny little bitch.  I've stop letting my daughter watch Caillou.  That little brat whines and cries until he gets whatever he wants.  That boy needs to learn the value of hard work.  Caillou needs to be sent off to war.  That's the only logical solution.

I guess I'm lucky that my kid actually enjoys reading books with me, and we spend lots of time flipping through pages of Dr. Seuss and Robert Munsch.  But let's face reality.  Television is a quick solution for any parent trying to do the dishes, tidy up the house, make supper, do the laundry, etc etc etc.  But it just seems like Mike The Knight is always on.

I think the only thing that could make me change my mind about Mike The Knight is if he punched Dora in the face for me.  Like, BAM - right in the mouth.

But then I wouldn't have the satisfaction of doing it myself.

- ryan

First To A Million Wins!

...as many of you may already know, I've been at war for nearly eleven years.

Monopoly Millionaire

Sure, this war through the ages has been done on the Monopoly battlefield but that doesn't make it any less intense than anything that's happened in Iraq.  It all started in in the summer of 2002 when my good chum Scott outsmarted a group of us by giving away most of his properties in exchange for immunity.  Basically, he left himself with a complete set of green properties (Pacific Ave, North Carolina Ave, and Pennsylvania Ave) and built up to hotels on them.  But in a brilliant strategic move of his, he didn't ever have to pay anybody else when he landed on their property.  He had immunity from every other player in the game.  Slowly, we all withered away and went bankrupt while he raked in moderate amounts of money.

Ever since then, it's been goddam all-out war against Scott whenever we pass GO and collect our $200.  Oh, and we initiated a "No Immunity" rule for any future games.  We weren't going to be fooled again by his back of tricks.  (On a side note, his bag of tricks is full of all kinds of STDs, some of which haven't even been discovered yet)

2006 - I beat Scott for the Monopoly title.

So this past Christmas I was given a new Monopoly game called Monopoly Millionaire.  At first I was skeptical.  I like my Monopoly to be pretty pure.  I can't get into all the different special editions with Star Wars, Disney, and Hello Kitty on them.  Show me a Ron Jeremy Monopoly board and I might change my mind.  But a gift is a gift, and I'm not a rude person.  At least not when it comes to gifts.  And you can bet I was pretty quick to challenge Scott at Monopoly Millionaire.  I wanted nothing more than to outsmart him and leave him jaded the way he humiliated me in 2002.  Whenever we play in a group of people, I don't even care if I win... I just want Scott to lose.  That's not too much to ask for.

The object of Monopoly Millionaire is simple: The first person to accumulate a million dollars in cash wins the game.  No questions asked.

The game-play rules are all pretty straight forward too.  You still get paid for passing go, collect rent, build houses, mortgage properties, trade stuff, and just like in real Monopoly the Free Parking space is supposed to be nothing but a rest square.  There are some new additions though, like mini-cards that let you steal property from other players and refuse to pay if someone demands your loot.

There really aren't many rules that come with the game, so if Monopoly Millionaire is going to be around forever, I expect a dozen different "house rules" to pop up here and there.  And that discovery right there is what led me to degrade Scott twice at this simple little board game.

The first time was a couple months ago.  We were playing with my wife, Dana, and it was an intense battle.  It seemed like there would be no survivors.  Fuck, we play for keeps.  Sure enough, Scott had a horseshoe up his ass (likely hanging out with some of the STDs) and was three spaces away from passing GO with eight-hundred thousand dollars in cash in his hand.  Passing GO would give him a salary of $250K and he'd win the game.  He was glowing with herpes and gloating like a maniac about how he was about to destroy me again.  I couldn't let it happen.  It was my turn to roll the dice.  I had to do something brash.  So I looked over at my lovely wife.

Ryan: "How much money do you have?"
Dana: "Ummm... looks like six-hundred thousand bucks..."
Ryan: "I tell you what... I'll give you four-hundred thousand for your shittiest fucking property.  I want the dirtiest of the projects where all the welfare cases live."

2011 - Scott wins in less than 30 minutes.  I'm clearly mad.

Dana: "That's crazy.  Why would you do that?"
Ryan: "Just make the trade."

That's when Scott clued in to what was going on and called me every dirty name in the book.  I had never been called a "horse-fucker" or a "can of cock meat" before.  I'll have to add those to my repertoire.  When Dana realized what was up, she naturally took the trade.  Nothing makes her happier than winning, especially beating me at ANY game.  Seriously, you should see her pout when I beat her at Mario Kart.  It actually makes me love her more; it's so cute.

So Scott lost, I didn't win, and Dana won the first battle royal of Monopoly Millionaire.  Scott called me a cheap bastard and swore I was cheating and plotting that the whole time.  And then he swore he'd get revenge and figure out a way to humiliate me the way I did him this time...

...fast forward to last night, and we're playing again.  The same three warriors doing battle on the Monopoly Millionaire board.  I was clearly in the money lead with three-quarters of a million and I was looking for any way to win this time.  Then it dawned on me.  The rule of the game...

"First player to a million wins."

So I spread out all of my property cards on the table and began analyzing them.  Dana looked at me like I was up to something, but she couldn't tell what it was.  She rolled her dice and moved her little token, then passed the dice to Scott.  As he rolled, we had this conversation...

The bank is in the middle and everyone helps themselves.

Scott: "Okay fucker, you aren't that far ahead of me."
Ryan: "How much money you got?"
Scott: "Never you mind.  Fuck you."
Ryan: "Are you going to roll or what?"
Scott: "Oh yeah. You're going down.  I have a plan."
Ryan: "So do I."

He finished his turn and passed me the dice.  And then I pretty much raped his manhole.  "Okay, I'm going to sell my houses back to the bank... that's... one-hundred thousand dollars I get... and I'm going to mortgage every property I own for another hundred and ninety-thousand bucks.  And guess what mother fucker, that puts me over a million.  Suck it."  Scott's jaw dropped in disbelief as Dana started half-laughing.

"You can't fucking do that you cheap bastard!"
"There's nothing in the rules that says I can't."
"You cheating fucking fuck.  You'll do anything just to beat me, won't you?"
"...First to a million wins."

I bask in all my glory now (and for good friggin' reason) but I know that Scott will be back with all new cheap tricks and ploys to defeat me.  He's kinda like an STD-laden Skeletor that way.  I may have won the battle, but the war is very far from over.

- ryan