No, dudes, I am not advocating speeding…much. Just the idea that sometimes I see “rules” that I’m pretty sure people have just made up. Like those little stop signs in the mall parking lot. I mean, come on, those aren’t even regulation size. I can’t be expected to take that seriously. What are they going to do? Chase me with one of those golf carts? At least THAT’S regulation size.

I think all the cartoons that we watched as children were created by people on LSD. Seriously, stay with me on this one. With all these cartoons making a comeback on the big screen, let’s do some soul-searching here. Small blue creatures that are being harassed by a wizard that wants to turn them into gold? Smurfs blow my mind.

It all comes back to ponies. Son of a bitch, I wish I had a pony.

Not like Krypton superpowers, but “useful” superpowers. Because how many times do you need to have lasers shoot out of your eyes. Okay, bad first example, because that IS really cool. But you have to admit that some superpowers are really not that cool. Like those stupid WonderTwins, one turned into animals and one turned into things shaped from water. Zan, form of a bucket of water. Jayna, form of a camel. And don’t even get me started on their pet space monkey, Gleek. I think Gleek’s special power was being able to make that bucket of water disappear and then magically….reappear.

At least he was housetrained.

Seriously, let me explain my superpower awesomeness:

The ability to know which lane is the slowest in traffic…and merge into that lane. Yes. I know. You’re jealous. But don’t worry – you, too, can have this skill. First, find some traffic. Second, start driving and look for these key signs that the lane is about drop 10 miles per hour: people texting while driving, geriatric drivers heading for a Luby’s early-bird-special, and my favorite, people who have to look at their passengers when driving. Why do people do this? This is just retarded. Your passenger knows what you look like, and you’re separated by mere feet in a practically soundproof chamber. Just drive. You can talk, they’ll still hear you, dumbass.

The ability to order awesomely at restaurants. Oh, this is an incredibly useful superpower, I can scan a menu and know exactly what will taste good at that moment. I used to think this was because I always ordered things with bacon – but then I realized “no, this IS a superpower” and then I just learned to live with my greatness. This superpower is coupled with the ability to remember where I ate delicious food. If you need to know where to get snowcones, brick oven pizza and bacon jam (yes, this magic exists)…just call me, I’ll blow your mind with places to go.

The ability to remember useless trivia. I have mentioned this before – if you are on a game show – make me your “phone a friend” … and then prepare for the money to roll the fuck in. Unless it’s geography – while I can tell you where food is, I cannot tell you what direction I am facing.

That’s my kryptonite. Well, that and camping. I freakin’ hate camping.

Everyone wanted a pony when they were little. Not that I’m complaining. But I’m complaining. Mr. J had a pony. And not just any pony…but a miniature pony. That’s like the cutest kind of pony you can have – one that’s the size of a Labrador. Granted, it was really his mom’s pony, but still… there was a pony. Our conversations go like this:

Me: “It would have been cool to have a pony.”

Mr. J: “I had a pony.”

Me:  “Shut your pie hole.”

Side note: Other than the pony thing, Mr J is awesome.

Anyway, I think most kids wanted to have a pony when they’re growing up. Like we were all going to be the Lone Ranger or She-Ra or something. Okay, I know some guys that still want to be She-Ra…and actually, they can pull that shit off…. You’d think the glitter would be overkill, but it’s actually pretty understated. What? Oh yeah. Ponies.

Ponies are probably not as cool as you would think, and I’ve given this some thought:

1. Feeding the pony – Unlike the Tina, the llama, in Napolean Dynamite….you cannot feed it ham or chicken enchiladas. Well you could, but then that leads to #2…..literally.

2. Cleaning up after the pony. Let’s not get into specifics here. Because we all have to eat lunch today and I hate having to take chili off the table for any reason. Let’s just say, Saint Bernard times 1000. Your pooper scooper may actually disintegrate on you.

3. People will want to breed your pony with their pony. It’s the “Pony Circle of Life.” Mr J told me a story that has scarred me – it involved a makeshift ramp and a really long glove. I’ve seen this type of thing on Mike Rowe’s Dirty Jobs (you already know this, because I watch way too much television)…and trust me, the miracle of life is so heinous, it will change you forever. As in, you will remember the time BEFORE you saw it (and long for that awesome innocence)…and there will be the time AFTER you saw it….and, friends, you cannot UNSEE that.

I’m sure there are many more reasons why ponies would be a hassle that I’m leaving out – mostly because I’m too lazy to think about it anymore…and I think Hoarders is about to start.

But all that aside, you’d be able to say “I had a pony.”

Shut your piehole, Mr J.