The nose knows that I’m making punny sense about scents

A couple weeks ago, I was involved in a brainstorm meeting at work. I grabbed a marker to start doodling ideas on our white board. Then, a familiar scent hit my nose.

The glorious smell of black licorice.

Zap! I was transported back to Kindergarten at Hilltop Elementary. Singing B-I-N-G-O with my pleasantly plump teacher Miss Barrisford.

I gazed down at the writing instrument in my hand. It was a scented black marker. Ignoring everyone’s crazy looks, I pulled the marker up to my nose and took a deep breath. The memory of that school, the song—more than 40 years ago—became more and more distinct in my mind.

Ahhhhhh!

In a zombie-like trance, I walked over to the other scented markers and began sniffing like my cat inhales luggage after we return from a weeklong vacation. Each distinct smell brought back a distinct vision in my brain.

Cherry.

Zap! Putting the finishing touches on a Santa Claus drawing in Ms. Ramser’s first-grade class anxiously awaiting the bus to leave on Christmas break. 

Blueberry.

Zap! First-grade art class. It was storming outside. Mr. Reithmiller, our art teacher, was showing us how to draw an owl.

Lemon.

Zap! Six-years old sitting in the hot attic of a church in Martins Ferry during Sunday School. I was painting a picture of a sun and clouds. Ironically, no gods or angels.

Then I started thinking about all those other good, bad and ugly aromas that you come across every now and again that gives you a Chuck Norris round-house kick to the amygdala.

Mildew mixed with mothballs.

Zap! Playing tag with my brother and exploring the old, dusty antiques and tools in my Grandma Eimer’s basement in Shadyside, Ohio circa 70’s.

Sweet & sour odor of the recycling canister.

Zap! My high school senior year doing community service at a recycling center in Martins Ferry.  I got busted destroying a nativity scene in our downtown park. That terrible smell singed on my nostrils is a life-sentence memory of my regrettable crime.

Mud, grass, fresh rain, and spring flowers.

Zap! An Easter of my youth—dressed up in my Sunday best dragging a huge Easter basket filled complete with a chocolate rabbit with yellow googly edible eyes.

Fresh-cut grass.

Zap! Football Friday Night circa 1984. I’m preparing to head down to the Ferry football field with my mom to hang out with the McSwords twins, watch the football game—as well as my brother, who was in the high school marching band.

Body odor. Mildew. Fresh Paint.

Zap! Walking into the locker room under the bleachers of Martins Ferry Stadium after two-a-day practices in eighth grade—the first time I ever wore pads to play football.

Dead skunk on the road.

Zap! Heading home from Cedar Point in the dead of night with my family when I was 8 or 9 years old. I was sleeping in backseat and my dad hit a skunk. That smell remained for the rest of the car ride home. It also brings back those not-to-distant memories of a good bag of sticky, stinky college weed.

Most of my memories revert me back to my youth, but there’s always one distinct smell that reminds me of my college years and beyond.

Women’s Perfume.

Every fragrance of perfume is unique—as is every woman I’ve dated. I don’t know the fragrances. I don’t know the brand names. But, I know that distinct smell. And if I catch that certain pleasant aroma as I pass a random female on the street …

Zap! I’m immediately transported back to that particular girlfriend who wore that distinct perfume. They’re all pleasant, positive memories. Just, regular, everyday memories, like sitting in the car, or waking up in the morning, or just hanging in their apartment listening to music and drinking some frosty beverages.

Which brings me to my final story.

I was at some random house using some random bathroom when I came across a canister of Glade Jubilant Rose^® & Lavender & Peach Blossom. Curious, I grabbed the can and sprayed a tiny mist into the air. After a brief millisecond, I inhaled.

Zap! I was catapulted back more than 20 years ago to The Gentleman’s Club Strip Club in Cleveland. The same, exact aroma was emanating off a stripper who was giving my good buddy a lap dance. 

I had turned down this particular stripper because she looked too much like my aunt.

Hidden Treasure Trove of Past Eimer Editorials

So, sometimes, I like to Google my name and see what comes up.

Hey! It's not a narcissistic past time at all (well, sorta), but more of a litmus test to ensure there's plenty of positive and not a lot of negative when people are looking you up online.

I try to tell this to all of the new graduates I come across who are looking for a job.

Google yourself and get rid of the negative shit. It's easy. And it's important. I mean, I wouldn't want a prospective employer to come across this picture of me on my honeymoon. (Well, in hindsight, I guess linking to said picture on an open blog is not going to help my employment opportunities, either.)

But I digress.

So, I was Googling myself and came across a link on Google that contained scanned-in newspapers from Westland News circa 2004. I started browsing and came across three editorials that I wrote for the newspaper at the time. Despite some type-os (damn you, editors!!), they're pretty entertaining reads. They brought back some very fond memories of the Suburban News Publication news crew.

During that time, I didn't make much money, but boy did I have fun writing and collaborating with a smart, talented and well-educated team.

So, without further adieu, please enjoy my SNP editorials covering a Canadian fishing trip, javelin in Ohio and deer hunting (and enjoy the good-looking youthful face, by the way):

Christmas Eimertoons - Dec. 17

(click image to enlarge)

The Summer of Stephen King's IT.

Way way back in the summer of 1987, I was a frustrated, angst-ridden puberty-stricken 14-year-old boy (almost 15). My freshman year at Martins Ferry High School was coming to a close. And, with no driver's license, no cable TV, no girlfriend and no life.

I basically had zero plans for my summer - except, of course, catching up on summer movies and walking the streets of Martins Ferry with my closest buddies looting various homes for liquor and beer.

Well, actually, there was one thing that I was going to do that summer, and that was read Stephen King's IT, which as I recall took the entire summer thanks in part to my virgin novel-reading abilities and it's immense length (1,138 pages, which translates to more than 100,000 words).

I was so mesmerized by the book that I took time out of my busy summer to draw and ink the following picture:

I believe it's the first time the portly Ben meets Pennywise the clown face to face. Note the cold breath air, the 'husky' Buster Brown jeans, the cinema-verite eyeball a' la Salvador Dali's short film Un Chien Andalou (even before I knew what the hell Un Chien Andalou was.)

And, let's not forget, my personal representation of Pennywise, which sort of mimicked the evil clown made famous by Tim Curry in the 1990 craptacular made-for-TV movie.

I would seriously be remiss of me to not point out my awesome use of perspective in relation to the bridge, the little cabin, the road, the creek/river and the clown.

In any event, after finishing this homage, I had high hopes of creating an eventual graphic novel of the book. I remember highlighting pages in my paperback book, which would make great layouts.

Sadly my great vision never came to fruition due to self-diagnosed teenage laziness. More than likely, I decided to focus my energy on the unending search for girls and booze during my summer of love Stephen King's IT.

Eimer's List of Old School Video Games

So, yet another little treasure from Eimer's boxes of goodies stored in my basement.

I'm not sure on when this was created. It could have been anywhere from 9- to 13-years old.

But, for whatever reason, I made a list of video game titles from Intellivision, ColecoVision, Atari 2600 and Aladdin's Castle (the video-game emporium at the Ohio Valley Mall, which housed all of the big-box games).

In any event, below are 138 video games that I played, in one shape or form, during my early video-game playing tenure (Which, as I understand, are one's most fordible years):

(click image to enlarge)

Couple highlights about this list:

• The odd thing about this list is that the numbering is all screwed up - beginning with #1 in the right-hand side and ending in the 100's on the left-hand side.
• What about Space Invaders, Missle Command, Congo Bongo, Double Dragon, Kangaroo, Dragon's Lair, 10-Yard Fight, Marble Madness and a wide array of pinball games such as Pinbot and Cyclone?
• I remember that Atari came out with Jungle Hunt to battle the success of Activision's Pitfall. Truth be told, it actually wasn't that bad of a game.
• Remember when you achieved a high score in any Activision game, they asked you to take a picture of your television screen and send it away for an offical Activision patch of that video game?
• Remember Atari 2600's crappy Pac-Man rip-off? Boy did that suck!
• Concerning the games on the list, what the hell is Bally-Ho, Barbie, Sub Roc, Temple of Apshai and Lost Luggage?
• Personally, I recall some of my favorites during this time as Donkey Kong (of course), Frogger, Adventure, Burger Time, Defender, Warlords, Pitfall, Jumpman Jr. 2, and Megamania (remember the commercial?) 
• I have a story about Satan's Hollow (#127). I was playing this video game at Super X (a local pharmacy in Martins Ferry, which is now a CVS). An old lay approached me and quietly stood over my shoulder as I rocket-launched the shit out of Lucifer. During a brief pause in the game, I glanced over at her and offered up a nervous smiled. She had a very perturbed look on her face. "You're going to hell for playing that game," she told me matter of factly and exited the store. I freaked out, lost my mojo and proceeded to get my ass kicked by the Devil. As a matter of fact, I was so freaked out that I stopped playing Satan's Hollow altogether. However, 20+ years later, I recently revisited the game at Cedar Point's Main Arcade on the midway. Hell be damend, I still rocked that high score.
• After reviewing this list, I have many, many fond memories of most of these video games. In particular the video game battles that my brother and I would get into...which I may share a little later.
• Isn't it ironic how this list compares to the length of my list of all-time favorite movies? Also, notice the Raiders of the Lost Ark Atari 2600 video game in the linked movie post. Very odd.

Mike Tyson Punch-Out!! Eimer World Records.

Waaay back in the Mid-80's, there was no such thing as PlayStation. Nintendo was king.

Waaay back in the Mid-80's, mix-martial arts was non-existent. Boxing was the bloodsport of choice. 

Waaay back in the Mid-80's Mike Tyson, the actor, was underheard of. Mike Tyson, the heavyweight boxer, was feared!

Waaay back in the Mid-80's Gears of War was something in a Sylvester Stallone movie. Mike Tyson's PunchOut!! was the most badass game of it's time.

Waaay back in the Mid-80's, I was a geeky eigth-grader with no life, no girlfriend and no easy way to access online porn via the World Wide Web, since it wasn't invented yet. What's an angry 13-year old to do?

Well, this angry 13-year old donated 100% of his energy to mastering video games. You know, the classics like Castlevania, Mega Man (the first one!), Super Mario 1 and 2, Legend of Zelda and, of course, Mike Tyson's Punch Out!! (two exclamation points!)

Remember the box of goodies I talked about a while ago?

Well, I went digging into that box last night and came out with another young Eimer gem:

It's all of my world records from Mike Tyson's Punchout!! Nice list by the way. I was looking online and couldn't seem to find any other gamer's records. So I'll accept these as the current world records.

As you see, in the beginning I beat Tyson by decision. However, I finally TKO'd Tyson with 16 seconds left in the third round. Not sure you can defeat Tyson by knock out. But I came close.

On a related note, the wikipedia entry for Tyson's Punch-Out!! stated there was a sequel in the works where Mike Tyson travels into space to take on extra terrestrials. Production was stalled because of Tyson's rape conviction. Damn you Mike Tyson's penis! Damn you!

This is just one of many, many more hidden treasures lurking in my box of young Eimer goodies.

Who knows what's going to pop up next?

Young Eimer - Inside a Bottle Rocket

Yet another drawing from my box of goodies that was found last week.

This one is titled 'Inside a Bottle Rocket' (click image to enlarge).



A little history on this one. I faintly remember drawing this picture after our parents let my brother and I graduate from Black Snakes, Pops, Smoke Bombs and Sparklers to bigger Fourth of July ammo like Bottle Rockets, Roman Candles, Firecrackers and - yes - M-80's (although my brother was the only one allowed to light those suckers).

I was so excited about bottle rockets, that I couldn't sleep. As a matter of fact, our Mom drove us up to Ohio Fireworks multiple times during the summer, so we could stock up - and I'm talking waaaayyyy after the Fourth of July.

Thanks Mom!

Ahhhh, the simplicity of youth, and the things that excited boys before they took a keen interest in girls...horror movies, sports, bike riding, a full can of WD40 and fireworks.

Wait a minute! Not too much has changed at all, except for my adulthood affinity for Gorilla Glue and Gorilla Tape.

Murder Hill 2: Electric Boogaloo

In my basement, I have 10, 11 (or 15) boxes of stuff that I've collected over my years on this Earth. I've hauled these boxes from house to house, starting when I moved out of my parent's house for good, way back in 1991.

What's in these boxes you ask? Drawings, crayons, action figures, old watches term papers, magazine clips, sketch books, Playboys, Fangoria, etc. Basicaly a lot of stuff. I know (I hope) my kids will love going through these boxes because there's a lot of stuff in those boxes of stuff that shows my stuff (if you know what I mean).

Once in a blue moon when I'm feeling a bit nostalgic, I open one of these boxes and, take an hour or two, to rummage through the contents, searching for any funny, creative buried treasures.

Well lo and behold, I came upon another interesting Eimer drawing (circa early 1980's) that could give Murder Hill and Richie Rich a run for it's money. It's a before and after type drawing, but taken to the extreme.

BEFORE
(click to enlarge)

AFTER
(click to enlarge)

Oh, that's not all. This one particular box had some pretty funny stuff that I drew, and wrote, in my youth.

Definitely more to come.

Beer, cigarettes, my kids and demolition derbies.

So there I was. Sunday night. Sitting there staring at Elmo's World with my two kids.

For some reason, my mind reverted back to grade school. It was summer or, to be even more descriptive, possibly Indian Summer. Late September. Early October.

Almost every year in my early childhood, my mom and dad would toss us into the car and drive out to St. Clairsville, Ohio, for the Belmont Country Fair where we would stuff our faces on elephant ears, funnel cakes, corn dogs and freshly squeezed lemonade.

Then, we would go see other fantastic attractions like crappy birdhouses at the 4-H tent, bulls eating hay at the farm tent and older kids busting balloons with darts for Van Halen mirrors on the midway.

On this particular day, however, we didn't come for the funnel cakes or the cows eating hay.

We came for the mother-fuckin' demolition derby!!!!

Now, I'm not sure of the chemical make-up of boys. Or why my brother and I enjoyed destruction as much as we did (or do). But, when we found out we were going to see the demolition derby the night before, we couldn't sleep. It was like Christmas in late August. To top it off, the fact that both our birthdays were in July, we had three Christmases (Christmasi?) every year.

And yes, the demolition derby was awesome. If you're a guy, you totally understand why. There's just something about 20 cars crunching, banging and slamming together that gets a guy really excited. It feels like you're in a fistfight against 50-some guys in a scunched up hallway.

And let's not even talk about the busted windows and exploding radiators.

It's almost as exciting as seeing a lady naked. Butt nekkid.

I said almost.

So there I was watching Elmo's World, staring at my son and daughter running around, doing a jig to the Elmo's World theme song and, in general, just having a good ol' time with life.

Then, for a couple minutes, I found an evil Grinch smile form across my face.

I have a son, and perhaps a daughter, who will wholeheartedly go see a demolition derby with me. And by wholeheartedly, I mean without question. And by without question, I mean forced.

Because, you see, my wife might not be interested in seeing a demolition derby, but goddamn it if my kid's aren't going to go with me.

We'll see. I just may get my youth back yet.

Murder Hill Revisited

A couple weeks ago, I was rummaging through a big box of stuff searching for my 2005 tax return (don't ask).

Although I didn't find the tax return, I was extremely excited to unearth this long-forgotten piece of early Eimer lore (click on each image to enlarge):



I was around eight-years old when my brother, my neighbor Tony and I wrote up our secret plans for Murder Hill, a torture area for enemies who breached our secret hideout.

It was our Guantanamo Bay. It was our little own Abu Gharib Prison. It was our little Hostel getaway where we could hop off the school bus and blow off some steam by torturing our very own terrorists before dinner.

Geneva Convention be damned! I now introduce you to Top Secret Plans of Murder Hill, which was a real, authentic clubhouse designed by my brother and I nestled somewhere in the Martins Ferry, Ohio, countryside. My lawyer also advised me to say that no real tortures took place during this time.

You Must Say Password To Continue. (HINT: It rhymes with PILL)

MURDER HILL JAIL

This was a very interesting drawing by yours truly. First off, I'm not sure what benefit a 'Mote(sp) of Dirt around the jail' would have. But, hey, I was smart enough to realize there was no way in hell we were going to build a moat of water and stock it with a fire-breathing dragon. So a moat of dirt seemed like the next best thing. Also, I think my early viewing of prison movies led me to engineer a 'door to put food through' and to include no handles on the inside of the jail. Eat your heart out Frank Lloyd Wright.


MURDER HILL PLANS


The plans were pretty straight-forward. However, I think I needed a bit more creativity on the No Trespassing signs. In regards to entry #3 (Get Hat Off Rack), my brother and I had an extensive hat collection. In essence, I think the act of choosing a hat off our rack was a quicker way to initiate someone into our gang than getting a skull tattoo, which I'm sure was discussed.

In regards to entry #2 (Make Two Things That Will Hurt People), Tony and I got a little overambitious and decided to create three things that will hurt people. On that note, I'm not too sure where my brother's torture device drawings were. Perhaps, being three years older than us, he pulled the hierarchy card and opted out of this particular plan.


MURDER HILL TORTURE DEVICES
Here are three torture ideas from Tony who, ironically, went on to become a jet fighter pilot for the United States Air Force (no kidding):

My personal favorite is the go-cart torture. I give Tony props for using his go-kart to create a very effective and wicked torture device.

And now, I introduce my three torture devices. All mispellings aside, my ideas are a little more copy-heavy than my neighbors. Some may even think a bit more creative. However, I'll let you be the judge of that:

Personally, I think all of my torture devices rock. But, if I were to build a torture chamber in the near future (say in a year or two), I would definitely use the hammer/mouth torture as a marquee attraction to lay some psychotic pain on unwanted intruders.


MURDER HILL WHEN DONE


Well, there you have it, the blueprint of Murder Hill when finished (or 'done' as I eloquently stated). I like how the author (i.e. myself) also teased future members with the possibility that this wasn't it. Oh, there were many, many more torture devices in the pipeline for the Murder Hill Gang

Just like Fight Club, this was only the beginning of something bigger and better. Tyler Durden would be proud.

I'm still on the lookout for the other top-secret files that I created for another one of our gangs, The A-Team, a blatant rip-off of the hit TV show. Of course, I was Col. John 'Hannibal' Smith (played by George Peppard in the show) because I also loved it when a plan came together.

Much like the Murder Hill Plans you see above.