It's Easter Monday! Which means that if you're anything like me, you haven't been to work since Thursday. Thursday. That's practically a week of guilt-free time off. You didn't even have to call in sick for that. You didn't have to call your supervisor in your best stage-hoarse voice and have to begin sentences with the words 'must be' followed by the words 'something I ate' or 'going around at the moment'.
All this wonderful free time is free.
It's for you to spend some quality time with your old pal Jesus.
Unfortunately for your favorite lapsed Catholic, I did not spend this weekend with my old pal Jesus. I spent it camped out in Chris's house, getting drunk, watching movies and sunbathing. As an alternate form of worship, I cannot recommend it more. However, now it's Monday morning, and my brain has spent so much time at pasture that it's reverted back to the childlike mush of my seven year old self.
I am in bed, watching Pingu on my iPhone and eating the remains of whatever Easter chocolate is left in the house.
Pingu was always my favorite cartoon as a child, and the first thing I had a real obsession with. I don't know what it is about Pingu I responded to at the time, but it branched out into a love of penguins that dominated the majority of my childhood. Every gift I received was penguin related, and my most constant companions were three penguin stuffed toys named Pingu (boy) Pinguetta (girl) and Fat Boy (issues).
Watching Pingu again, approaching 22 and gainfully employed, and something about it just makes sense. Take this video, for example.
After watching this, I've realized that I didn't just like Pingu, I am Pingu. When Pingu's mother instructs him to babysit her egg, he is obsessed with notion of appearing to do an excellent job. When he neglects this duty in favor of partying and livin' it large in his igloo, he hides from his problems, and cries crocodile tears until eventually forgiven.
Let's take a character assessment of Pingu for a moment: hes well-meaning, good natured, but essentially pig-headed and selfish. He is, judging by his magazine and record player, a relentless hipster.
I don't t think there are any more parallels that need to be drawn here.
Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles / Rescue Rangers / Duck Tales
Although ostensibly, these three cartoons occupied different time slots and drew different audiences, if any one of them was your favorite cartoon growing up, it probably adds up to about the same thing.
There are three things in life that are important to you: your bros, your homies and your dudes. You are a man's man. You regularly barbeque. You have a longstanding poker night. You and your mate Stonesy once contemplated sharing a hooker in Thailand in the summer of 2009. You have, more than once, washed your penis in a sink.
Let's not be hasty here, you're not a total barbarian. You have female friends, and you even have smart friends. But they're not the people close to your heart, and they're not the people you immediately text after you've taken THE WORLD'S most oblong dump. The women in your life are soft, marvelous creatures, there to nurture you in times of need. Once a week, you call your woman or smart friend and you drink a bottle of wine in their house while watching the new Futurama. And it's nice. But in your heart of hearts, all you really want to do is pick a fight and take a dump.
*If you're a girl, and these were your favorite cartoons growing up, I can't be arsed writing a character profile for you. You're probably great, regardless.
Hey Arnold!/ Doug / As Told by Ginger
People are always surprised to find out you smoke. "But you don't seem like a smoker?" they say, inquisitive, squirrel-like curiosity aflame in their eyes. To this, you shrug. Smoking has given you something to do with your hands for many years now, and your hands have always been a problem for you. You take yourself out for coffee. You own a Moleskine notebook. You fear others find you pretentious. They probably do.
Things can be difficult for you. You marvel at others ability to breeze through life, unfazed by daily struggles that you're constantly encumbered by, such as "Does that barista like me, or is she just being nice?" and
"I need to find a new greeting."
Ren and Stimpy / Pinky and The Brain / CatDog
At least half of your friends are jealous of you. And why shouldn't they be? You've found the person you're going to be with forever, and you've been together further back then anyone can remember. Your partner knows you better than you know yourself, and this is something you proudly tell your mutual (all your friends are mutual) friends in the pub while slinging arms around one another. But later, as you finish brushing your teeth, you begin pawing your own face frantically in the bathroom mirror. She knows me, she knows me better then I know myself.
Then you go and pick a fight about who burnt the bottom of the frying pan. It becomes a screaming row, and your other flatmates look at each other in awkward terror. You feel alive.
Animaniacs / Spongebob Squarepants / Earthworm Jim
Why did the mushroom go to the party? Because he was a fungi! You're a fun guy. Everybody loves you. Everybody loves you so much, they might as well call you Raymond. The thing people like about you, is that you are ON. You are on ALL. THE. TIME. With you, you don't just get a friend. You have jokes! Skits! Animated impressions of old teachers! You are an essential element of any, nay every, social group.
Sometimes you don't get invited places. It's no big deal, you'll get invited next time.
You spend an inordinate amount of time trying to befriend stray cats.