Worst. Gift. Ever.
They popped in and out of awesome cities throughout California, Oregon, Washington, and British Columbia.
My mom was on a mission to locate the perfect souvenir to bring back for the Yoys.
And boy did she ever.
First, you have a trigger. Like a gun.
You press the trigger but instead of a bullet, a basketball (or soccer ball), because there are two variations of this satanic toy, begins spinning, playing music and lighting up.
The music is eerily similar (anyone know a good copyright lawyer?) to the Pitbull/Jennifer Lopez song that was beat to death by pop radio. So now those guys are haunting every waking moment of my day.
TONIGHT WE GONNA BE IT ON THE FLOOR!
Sorry, there it goes again. I will try and control it for the remainder of the blog entry.
The ball opens up and some weird, scary clown guy (IN A TOPHAT!) is giving you the once over with his evil shiny eyes.
One trigger pull is good for about ten seconds of music and scary clown spinning.
But, wait. There's more.
Attached to the trigger is a whistle.
That's right, folks. They can whistle while they pull the trigger.
Seriously, what in the hell was my mom thinking? Maybe she was so amped by her big BINGO win that she temporarily lost her marbles.
This must be payback for all the sass I gave her in middle/high school. Well played, mom. Well played indeed.