It’s All Ruined

I’m on the phone with Kevin while he drives home from work, and I’m playing Toontown Rewritten as we’re talking.  He quips up with “There should be an adult Toontown, where there’s sex bots and pimp bots”. … …

And because I was mid sip with coffee in my mouth, I burnt my throat in a poor attempt at saving my laptop from another bath.  Now I can’t get the brain stabbing imagery out of my head.  I’m sure there are adult video games out there, but geez.  How can I ever play without that in my head?

Even worse is now that he has planted the idea in my scarred brain, the ideas are churning.  I’m gonna need more coffee. … and a lobotomy.

Backwards Sequence of Dreams

Is that even possible?  It’s the only way I can accurately recall what I dreamed about.

I’m pretty sure my subconscious is telling me to quit neglecting my poor temperature afghan.  The last thing I remember is crocheting a simple round piece to start a beanie, which I had to read instructions for as part of a final exam for school.  Here we go.  I was back in school…

The last final exam for the year was English, taught by one of my actual high school English teachers.  She was nice irl.  Not so nice in my dream, and because I was late, and everyone was finished by the time I showed up, she handed me the last part of the test first, which was a pile of papers that needed to be put away alphabetically in an old catalogue system type of filing cabinet.

But … but … why couldn’t I have that nice little index card everyone else got, which had three simple questions on it that everyone got right?!?!?!  Nope!  Cara is late, and she has to take the most difficult part of the exam first.

For those of us who learned it, the catalogue system was the way we found a book in the library – before computers existed.  But in my dream, the only way you could even open the catalogue was to find the right switch, and my teacher said if I couldn’t figure out how to open it, it was grounds for an automatic F.

Talk about pressure.  And to make matters worse, the papers were all handwritten in some secret code.  Of course I couldn’t read a damn thing, and I started to sweat bullets, mother f’ing everyone in my entire dream sequence who made me late in the first place.

The last person I encountered really wasn’t at fault, because she was unexpectedly called to work while I was visiting her, and she couldn’t give me a ride to school.  But when she couldn’t get out of her house because there was a skunk outside, we were both stuck, which made me even more late.

And what do I do?  I try to chase the skunk away by blocking the doorway to the house, laying down across the threshold.  Dumb.  I know.  But then I felt something cuddle up from behind me, and it started pawing at my neck.  And then I freaked out, until I figured out my friend’s baby had somehow gotten out of her crib, and crawled her way to me because she needed a change.

But because I was nervous about the English test I was about to take, I forgot how to change a diaper, and things got messy, but the skunk finally went away.  When I went outside to make sure, a weird talking cat was down at the pond in the yard, repeatedly flinging himself into the water, trying to drown himself – or so I thought.  Turns out he was trying to set a world record for holding his breath.

Speaking of world records, somewhere in all of this mess I had found a massive collection of hats and mechanic tools at my friend’s house while she was working from home, since she still couldn’t leave her house for some unknown reason, and I still had to walk to school sometime soon.  But not before I found the correct baseball hat to wear – backwards like a gangsta mom, with my ponytail somehow sticking out of the back through some mysterious hole.

But since I was wearing that hat, I wasn’t allowed back at my parents’ house, where they were having some fancy dinner with the rest of my family.  But all of this was happening in the basement, where there was more room for things like a giant flat screen tv, and a band playing in the other room, which used to be my mom’s hair salon a million years ago.

On the tv was the world series, and I apparently wasn’t cheering for the right team, and I was a traitor, and people were yelling at me instead of the tv.  So, when I went to go in the other room to listen to the band, it turned out to be my friend’s band, and I was excited, bouncing up and down in my chair like a little kid with a new video game.

Previous to my parents’ fancy dinner, I was upstairs in the office, playing Toontown Online on their computer.  Except it wasn’t the current free version I normally play irl.  I somehow stumbled across actual Toontown Online, which was apparently still fully operational without any changes.  It was completely free, which pissed me off because all this time, Disney was lying to everyone saying that they shut it down, when in reality, it just went secret, and the only way to play it is if you discover it by accident by Googling something completely random.  I can’t for the life of me remember what the hell I Googled to find it.

I hate long paragraphs.  And, can you imagine if that were actually the case irl?  Many people would be both pissed and overjoyed, because we were so sad when Disney did this to us, that the diehard fans created their own version, which I actively play on a daily basis.

Well … that was sort of backwards – at least in my mind.  And now it’s time for breakfast and a much needed coffee.




If anyone out there has ever played Disney’s Toontown Online, it’s back – in the form of a fan ‘rewrite’.  Only toons will understand my title.

Why do I play a children’s game?  Because I’m a rebel at heart, and I don’t do typical adult things.  Hence one of my many toons’ names, Rebel At Heart, a crimson rabbit.  Why am I a rebel?  Because I had a strict mother.

I wasn’t allowed to own video games.  I was lucky I had a computer, but we owned no games, because back then Apple IIe was so basic, there were virtually no games to play.  Oh, wait.  I had a couple of educational games.  I had to use my brain, which I also don’t do.  Having children kind of fried half of it.

I doubt many here play on any of the fan Toontown platforms – or video games, for that matter – but if you ever see a crimson rabbit by the above name, it’s me.  If you need help, just reference this entry.

Finally, before anyone judges me for playing a children’s game, or calls me weird or creepy, let me assure you, I’m not a sicko.  And, there are over 4,000 adults in the Toontown Rewritten community.  A good third of them are over the age of 40.  We are a helping community, since there are so many bullies online.

Each day, there are specific scheduled activities, open to anyone – not just ATTA members.  What’s ATTA?  Adult Toontown Addicts.  And since there’s a safety feature in chat, we aren’t allowed to say the word addict.  So when a non-ATTA member runs across us in a huge group, waiting to do a boss battle, we tell them we are adult toontown ‘attics’.  Then, we either get “Can I join the run?”, or they disappear.

And there you have it.  This is what I spend a lot of my time doing.  Now if only I could figure out how to record my own content for my YouTube Channel.

PS: That’s a doodle.  They are our pets, and we all love them more than the game itself.