I’ve never been a big gum person. I was never one of those kids that felt they were getting a “treat” when their grandmother pulled a 3 month old stick of JuicyFruit out of their purse that was resting next to a tube of ointment and a worn out Mary Kay compact. Unless it comes with a picture that I can adhere to my body with a wet tongue slurp, gum isn’t a treat. The people that think gum is a treat are the same people that give away pencils for Halloween. I would say real treats start around the Werther’s Original area.

One gum I would consider a borderline treat is FruitStripe gum. While their color-transfer “tattoos” aren’t as hardcore as the true sticker kind with pictures of cartoon devils flipping off a kitten, there is just an air of zebra magic in them. This pack is of the sugar-free variety and features a rainbow of multi-flavored stick gum. I haven’t seen a gum this flamboyant since Gay Pride Big League Chew. The colors all coordinate, there's no surprise when you pop in a yellow stick and find out it's really some starfruit/papaya mix. It's lemon. Plain and simple lemon.

The one disappointment with this pack of FruitStrip is that the pack itself has blue stripes on it, yet there are no blue sticks of gum. I grew up in the era of Blue Raspberry, so for me this just doesn't cut it. I want this pack to remind me of drinking blue Hugs with the squirt bottle top at the park in the summer and how we'd refill the bottles with water and use them as squirt guns until we lost the lid and smashed the shit out of the plastic. If the Zebra has blue stripes, I want blue gum.

This weekend was my first ever trip to Atlantic City and I didn't do a stitch of gambling. I suppose that wasn't really my intent in the first place, but it seems to be the drawing tourist factor, I'm just not much of a gambler. My main man picked me up Saturday morning and after my mother was assured he was not a serial killer, we drove the hour and a half back to his place so I could meet his parents. I knew I had nothing to worry about, and I was quite right because apparently afterwords his mother very pointedly told him to be sure he steps his game up. Oh yes, Mystie is the type of girl you can take home to mom.



After crossing a few bridges and flipping off a few Jersey drivers we wiped the summer butt-sweat off our backsides and checked into our suite. I knew there was going to be a kitchen, I'd seen the pictures online, but I was still shocked to see that they included everything right down to the quintessential butcher knife in case of any sudden urges to re-enact scenes from slasher flicks. There was also a colander for head protection.

Okay, so a good part of the reason I wanted to head to AC was to walk the boardwalk and laugh at masturbating monkey toys and 20 year old postcards in the souvenir shops. I did just that while dodging guys pulling people around in carts or, more accurately, guys pulling around empty carts and yelling at people to get the fuck out of their way. I was pretty mesmerized by it all but I think the boyfriend was a bit taken aback because up until it's recent sale, his beachside adventures were at his grandmother's beach house in Sea Isle, which apparently has a completely different atmosphere. It seems we may need to be taking another beach trip this summer. I'm going to pencil it on the list after "Ghost hunting in Gettysburg."



There was a fantastic Asian Supermarket across the street from our hotel which we merrily stomped through piling our cart up with Ramune, Pocky, CC Lemon, Pucca, Hell Bank Notes, and dragon figures. There were so many types of ground fish paste and odd spices that my head spun even attempting to fathom what dishes might be made with them. Frankly, the raw fish smell was pouring over 75% of the store, which is why we were glad the wooden shrines were on the opposite end of the fish. It was mutually agreed that giant wooden shrines would look awesome in our prospective living room.

Sadly I didn't get much along the lines of photos, at least not aside from the teeth-rottingly sweet photo of the happy couple. I'll spare you what I've failed to spare all my friends and everyone I work with.

Camping wasn't all it's cracked up to be. I strolled in to Blue Rocks Campground around 2pm with an EMT, a former Girl Scout leader, and guy that's 25% Lenape Indian and 75% white trash. Don't get me wrong, the day started out great. We set up the tent and I promptly got drunk then headed down to the pool. After that we set up the wood we brought only to have it ooze so much sap that we had to go buy firewood, anyway. Weenies were roasted, stories read, and s'mores with pink marshmallows were consumed and washed down with much, much schnapps. After I was full and drunk I was trucked up the trail to the river of rocks which was horrible getting to because of said fullness and drunkenness, but even worse getting back because it was dark and we passed a bear crossing sign on the way in. Why do they even bother making "bear crossing" signs? They make it look so cute with the big bear and the little cubs following when in actuality it should be a sign of a camper getting his head bitten off next to a picnic basket and just read, "OMGWTF BEARS!!!"



Okay, so the rocks were pretty awesome. That was my favorite part. But shit like that tends to go by the wayside when you have to toss yourself into an outhouse full of spiders while concentrating all your efforts on NOT inhaling or thinking about Friday the 13th part 5 or Sleepaway Camp 2. After sitting around the campfire for a while I decided to head back to the tent to relax on my air mattress with a flashlight and a book but no sooner did I get to the tent flap then I heard a loud WOOSH and turned around asking, "Does anyone else feel like it's about to storm?"



Storm it did. There we were, scrambling to get our gear inside as thunder cracked overhead. We managed to get everything together before the rain, but the wind was howling and we were under a tall tree in an object constructed of metal rods while lightening crashed in the distance. At that point I just grabbed my cell phone and hopped on AIM to see if my boyfriend was on to comfort me. After checking the weather we decided to hop into the TrailBlazer and hide out until the storm was mostly over. I sat there, ticking away at my phone in the dark while all my ideals of relaxing outdoors with a good book burned to the ground.



A half hour later we headed back to the tent, and my half was oddly damp. I managed to climb into bed and cover myself with a CareBears blanket I brought along, thinking it would be more than sufficient for a summer night. At around 2:30am I woke up curled over in horrible stomach pain groaning as I sat up and causing Healr to head out and grab antacids for me. I was freezing cold and too scared to go to sleep because I was afraid I wouldn't wake back up. I wasn't so much shivering as I was having mini convulsions. Eventually it got so pathetic that Healr made me get up while she moved my bed to a drier spot, wrapped me in blankets, and rubbed me to try and get my body to warm up.

Meanwhile, raccoons made their way through our trash bag.

Eventually Healr purposely bored me to sleep with an extremely long-winded tale about a bear. We woke up early to a breakfast of pancakes and spam then cleaned up and got the fuck out of there. In the process of packing, half my shit was unfortunately splashed with water, but nothing was damaged. The last hours at camp were spent squishing through mud while wearing my blanket as a cape. I'm not completely turned off camping, just tent camping. Never again.

Since I did make mention of it, I feel the need to report to you all that yours truly is no longer the most eligible woman on the internet. I've found a wonderful new boyfriend named Myke, and we're bonded very closely by the unnecessary use of y's in our names. We met many weeks ago when he showed up for a meeting to a group I belong to and locked his keys in his car when I swept in and saved the day by pulling out my AAA card and calling them to pop open the door. To give the basics he's into 40K (Warhammer), video games, horror movies, anime, black metal, and has been practicing Kung Fu for several years. He's also the luckiest bastard on the face of the planet, so feel free to issue high-fives and fist bumps.

I'm going to throw a warning out there and let you know that this may very well be my last blog ever. I'm going camping tomorrow which means I'm risking getting raped and killed by trees or slashed by serial killers. I was planning out how I'll manage to be the only one to survive, but then I remembered one of my attending friends is still a virgin, and I think that alone completely fucks me over. So if given the opportunity to swim naked in a lake, I'll just do it, and enjoy myself before the zombies get me.



I was out yesterday picking up an air mattress and a small army of citronella candles and found a box of Kool Aid Kool Pops. The packaging doesn't look like it's changed in the past decade, and I'm pleased with that. It fulfills my lust for that old fashioned summer feel, and having a freezer full of ice pops makes me want to dig out my old Barbie pools out of the closet and set them up on the patio. I have high hopes for this summer, and so many little excursions planned I may need to start a new scrapbook.



Passing by registers, I caught glance of a candy display that cocked my eyebrows a little. I was staring at some Snickers and 3 Musketeers wondering what the catch is and why the wrappers looked so weird. I was thinking at first it was some sort of summer promotion or a, "Our wrappers look this way to save the rainforest," type of bullshit. I examined them and didn't figure it out until I read the cardboard display stating they were the "original" wrapper design. They don't scream retro to me, they just look like cheap knock-off candy designs. Call me when you come out with a new flavor, Mars. It's summer, stick some pineapple in that shit.

I wasn't going to see The Incredible Hulk. Hell, I wasn't even going to do anything all weekend. I was miffed that all my friends were either working all weekend or broke because I was ready to hop the bus to AC and have some fun. It's no good doing that stuff alone because then who the hell is going to take cute photos of me? After calling everyone programmed in my cell on Friday, I did what seemed to be the proper thing to do -- I posted a message to all my friends telling them they suck for leaving me high and dry and then vowed to be bored as fuck all weekend. One of my new guy friends actually replied saying we should go together sometime next month, so now I'm stuck wondering if that counts as being "asked out." I've never dated a ninja before, I prefer pirates.

While we're on the subject of the horror show that is my love life, I'd like to mention that I made an incredible discovery about myself recently. I've always said my perfect man needs to be a businessman by day and a badass by night. The kind of guy that when he comes in the door after work he's ready to rip off his tie and trade in his loafers for a pair of Harley Davidson boots. As I'm pondering this the other day I realized what the problem is with my romantic ideals. I've pinpointed it exactly. All these years, all these damn years.... I have been trying to date Batman.

There was an excellent promo before the movie with a Batman-related tie in that had me giggling like a little school girl at a penis joke. It also featured the Hellboy 2 trailer which was godlike in itself but when I heard Mein Herz Brennt as the background music I was about ready to lick my fingers and take them down south.

I wasn't expecting much out of the Incredible Hulk movie. I figured if you've seen one Hulk movie you've seen 'em all. Scientist tests out experiment on himself, goes horribly wrong, turns into a big green dude, goes on rampage, blah fucking blah. The main curiosity I had came a few weeks prior when I was out having lunch with an old fling and he explained to me why there was another Hulk remake so soon after the first. From what I'm told it involves Marvel producing their own movies now and not having them done through Universal and the likes.



Imagine my surprise when I saw all the same old boring Hulk tale flash through the screen in about 2 minutes time during the opening credits. They flashed through in such a way that I knew they weren't going to backtrack, and that I was about to sit through a brand new Hulk. It played along the same note as Batman Begins in where the hero is hiding in the middle of nowhere trying to run from his past. We see Bruce as a working class schmo in a bottling plant training to keep his stress levels down and hunting for a cure for his gamma radiation.

Now it just so happens that one of the friends I saw this movie with is a huge Marvel fanatic, so half my entertainment was watching her reactions to all the tender meaty cuts of geeky goodness like the cameo appearance by Lou Ferrigno as a campus security guard and the use of the "sad walking away song." This movie really delivered everything from a fantastic storyline, great special effects, naked Edward Norton, and shit blowing the fuck up. The battle scenes were amazing, and as someone who has a thing for men in uniform, it's always refreshing to see someone that's fucked more government property than I have.

I would highly recommend this movie to everyone, except maybe younger kids because of the violence and a brief sexual scene. I had to turn my head for a few scenes that involved injections, so be wary of that. Otherwise I was extremely impressed, and pleased that it was worth the $10 for the ticket.

You know that awesome thing I do where I make mens' balls retract by puking pink all over my site? I did that today. It was fierce.

I'm loving all my pink editions of classic games, though I wish Jenga came in something that was easier to store. Having to stack all the pieces back properly into a flimsy piece of plastic in the box is a pain in the ass. I think perhaps instead a pink sack or "satchel" should have been included to toss the blocks into.

Now that Starbursts have covered all kinds of flavors including Tropical, Baja, Retro, Berries & Creme, Cake, and Spicy Buffalo they're moving onto new territory -- gummies. My first pick would have been to see Starbursts take a more Skittle-like candy, but I'm pleased they didn't go the gum route. Starburst gum would be all too tempting to swallow. The Gummies are tempting to swallow because they've got a great texture and a perfect placement of gel innards to allow for maximum oral popping action. They're by no means better than Gushers, but they are very full-bodied as far as gummies go. The flavors aren't completely true to the originals, but they're about as close as you can get when you go from chew to goo.



I was going to write an article this weekend, but so far I've only managed to get the logo down. Whoops. I'd claim I was busy but yeah... half the weekend I was only visible by a snorkel sticking up from the pool. The other half I was at midnight bowling and playing MarioKart DS. Did you know that I, in fact, do not get better at bowling with the more alcohol I consume? This was news to me! But holy shit did I at least look good.

Also worth noting is that the wonderful Chris Woodall over at The Sci Fi Guys who supplied me with The Thing action figure in my recent article (as well as many other great figures) has done a feature of sorts on my work, so definitely check it out!

Today was quirky in about a half dozen different ways. For starters I decided to wear a dress of all things to work but before I even managed to zip up my sexy black boots I noticed a run on the upper thigh of a pair of stocking I had just opened. Being the dynamic woman I am, I know that the fix-it for stocking runs is to coat both ends in clear nail polish. Unfortunately, my clear nail polish was borrowed and never returned so I had to use glitter polish, but it sealed the run.

I put on my titanium Abyss replica ring which is weird for two reasons. One being that I've never actually seen The Abyss. Two being that it's actually my old 5-year anniversary ring from a boyfriend long gone. Part of the reason we split was because at the 6-year mark it was still the only ring he'd ever given me, so we separated mutually. I've thought about pawning it before, but I don't think there's much of a market for titanium rings with quotes from Apoptygma Berzerk songs inscribed on the inside. Besides, it still looks cool!

Work was a typical day of cleaning up messes plus some training on filing claims for MVAs and Workman's Comp cases. I lost an earring back and had to MacGyver one by snipping off a small piece of rubber band and poking a hole in it with a pushpin. Also, my boss threw a paperclip at me from 15 feet away to grab my attention while she made facial gestures at a co-worker. Then on the way out of the building the CEO was talking about how we have to park in a different lot tomorrow because they rented out our parking spaces for the WW2 Airshow going on this weekend.

On the way home I made a split decision to stop at the bicycle shop. I've been wanting to get a bike for a while now, but I haven't the foggiest idea what to look for. Being Mystie, I want whatever bike looks cute and pink, and they had the perfect cute retro pink bike in stock, and it was on sale. It had a little bell and everything! The sales clerk said it wouldn't work for me because I'm too tall, and when I got it outside to test drive it (keep in mind, I'm in a black dress and 2½" heeled boots) I couldn't so much as drive a foot forward on the thing.

I think I've forgotten how to ride a bike.

I mean, it could have been the combination of the pedals being at a really uncomfortable place for me, the parking lot being sloped, or that my footware was not the best for bike riding but whichever way, that bike was just determined to topple over and try to take me with it. I went home empty-handed because dammit, if I'm paying good money for a bike, it better be fucking pink. I'll have to do some online research, I guess. I didn't even realize bikes came in "sizes."

The evening was pretty standard. Weight Watchers is going over well (down about 7lbs thus far) so my dining for the evening was a leafy green salad with organic spinach and turkey pepperoni plus a bowl of peas and some cherries later on. I went for a walk after dusk and as I'm turning the corner near the park I see what appears to be a rock.... only it's moving. I look down, and there's a turtle walking across the sidewalk heading into the grass. I can only assume he was heading over to the creek, but I just don't think turtles are really indiginous to my area. Plus this turtle was standing right next to a big black feather, like it was some kind of creepy omen or something. I just snatched up the feather and went along my merry way.

Someone please tell me that the turtle and black feather isn't some bad omen. I don't want to get gang-raped by ninja midgets tomorrow.

This is what happens when you're left alone in the doctor's office for too long. You use your cell phone to photograph yourself sitting around in your little paper dress. Don't worry, nothing's wrong, just routine bullshit that kept me sitting in the waiting room for over an hour playing Tetris on my phone. I didn't get to see the doc til an hour and a half after my appointment time, which was an hour and a half I could have spent painting more action figures like I did The Thing.

I feel a little bad that I did this without ever watching any of the Fantastic Four movies, but I heard they all sucked scum, anyway. I mean, isn't Fantastic Four the first DVD you find in the shit-bin in the electronics department? I'm surprised they don't have it to stream on Netflix or just give it to you for free in boxes of Frosted Flakes.

I shouldn't talk shit on bad movies. I own a copy of Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey that I got from a pizza hut promo like 5 years ago. Best. Promo. Ever.

I'm a semi-professional at hunting down awesome things to buy. This is why I plan to elope in Vegas as opposed to having wedding -- it would be the most horrific ordeal you can imagine. Especially considering we all know I'll wind up marrying the biggest Star Wars geek ever and we'd never get past debates over whether to have our glasses laser inscribed with Darth Vader or She-Ra. But seeing as I've managed to fuck up relations with 3 men in the past week, I don't think I'll be needing to worry about that for a loooong time. Instead I'll be trying to find happiness in MP3 speakers that looks like a minature KISS lunchbox and Indiana Jones cereal.



This cereal had me smiling brightly with memories of TV and movie tie-in cereals from my day like Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure and Strawberry Shortcake. Indiana Jones cereal went above and beyond the junk I used to get from Ralston and delivered what's practically a cross between Count Chocula and Cocoa Puffs. The traditional chocolate balls are accompanied by marshmallows in the shape of the Crystal Skull, Indy's Hat, a torch, and the Temple of Akator. The hat actually looks more like a dirt clod, but we'll forgive this because the little chocolate eyes on the skull make me wish more face-shaped edibles had chocolate eyes.



There's sadly no prize inside, not even a cardboard decoder, but cereal prizes are becoming a rare thing these days. The other day I found myself almost buying a box of Corn Pops just to get a light-up plastic spoon. Nothing was spared on box art, though, as we see a magnificent drawing of a young Indy on the back only to flip the box around and find the grey-haired badboy swinging the whip around with a face only stern enough to suggest he's concentrating on a carnival game of ring-toss.

The picture of Mutt on the back is laughable, and I can only imagine the photograher's words when he took it. "Alright Shia I need you to lean on the bike and look as stoned and lethargic as humanly possibly. Yeah, think severe constipation, clench your asscheeks tight."



The back offered some mild entertainment in a cross between a maze and a choose-your-own-adventure. You start out chosing a plane or a train and try to avoid sharks and red ants to get to the treasure at the end. It's amusing enough to last through one bowl of cereal which is probably why they needed supplementary printed Pop-Tarts.