holy memorabilia

Ok so I’m still cracking up this is the most hilarious thing that’s ever happened I still can’t believe it. I was already going to post it but it’s just gotten better and better. Buckle up kids, this is a long story.

It all started two weekends ago. I was at a convention, Anime Detour, because I’m a nerd. My mom had, over the past couple of years of misplaced parental affection, presented me with birthday and Christmas presents of anime and SuperWhoLock shirts that A) I didn’t need because I’m drowning in t-shirts and B) were kind of awful. Not awful enough to be worn ironically, but not good enough to actually wear. Before shipping them away to the nearest secondhand store, I decided to take them to a couple of conventions that have swap meets. I could get them off my hands, and some kind soul with different taste will love them and give me something in return.

I got to the swap meet at Detour pretty late. As in, 15 minutes before it ended. A cursory glance around the room told me that most of the really great stuff had already been swapped away. I made my way slowly towards the exit, resigned that I’d have to wait to rid myself of these shirts, and that trying to find anything quality was in vain.

I was soon to be proven wrong, however.

While I was idly eyeing a gently-used DVD, I heard someone mention a “freebie table”. Apparently this is where vendors put their wares that they have tired of trying to hawk to the dead-eyed weebs that roam the halls, free for anyone to take, no barter necessary.

That’s where I found it. Just as I was walking up, a vendor tossed it onto the table among the Pokemon energy cards and copies of Death Note, Volume 6. As soon as I laid eyes on it I knew I had to have it. It was the most awful, cringe-worthy, beautiful piece of garbage I’d ever laid eyes on.

A physical CD of original songs composed and performed by Vic Mignogna.

I felt like I’d found the Holy Grail of Ironic Memorabilia. Just look at this incredible monstrosity. Look at the terrible font that nobody can actually read

Gaze upon the horrid, cheesy song titles

I couldn’t even think about listening to it. I knew that, in order for me to not turn off the sultry tones of Dick Lasagna instantly, it would have to be past 2 AM where I already am losing my grip on responsible decisions. I told all my friends about it. I reveled in their glee-filled horror. They made me promise not to listen to it until they could be there, and we joked about how hilarious it would be if we could get him to sign the damn thing. I put it on my dresser in as much of a place of honor as I’ve got.

But I didn’t open the case.

Then a couple of days later, it caught my eye as I was about to leave for class, and I realized that I hadn’t checked to see if the CD was actually in the case. It didn’t feel empty and it rattled when I picked it up so I hadn’t questioned it before. But just to make sure, I popped open the case. And wait… 

hold on… 

NO…

IT’S SIGNED

I FOUND THE AUTOGRAPHED HOLY GRAIL OF IRONIC MEMORABILIA TOSSED ONTO THE SCRAP HEAP. I WAS ACTUALLY LAUGHING SO HARD THAT I ALMOST MADE MYSELF LATE TO CLASS BECAUSE I COULDN’T DO ANYTHING BUT LAY ON MY BED AND WHEEZE BECAUSE THIS WAS THE MOST HILARIOUS THING THAT HAD EVER HAPPENED IN MY ENTIRE LIFE.

Epilogue.

Yesterday, late at night, my friends and I gathered around a small USB disk drive as it hummed to life, the nostalgic whine of a spinning CD the only noise in the quiet kitchen. An iTunes window appeared and the first track loaded up - “Italian Boys”. We stood in terse anticipation as the bravest one of us clicked play. Twenty seconds later we were all in various stages of collapse, shrieking with laughter at every line. It was awful, in its purest form. This is, without a doubt, the absolute worst item on the face of the planet. 

And it’s MINE.

anonymous asked:

Imagine a place like Hard Rock Cafe but with DCI memorabilia instead.

Holy shit I would be so happy. I would go there and fangirl so hard. That should be a thing. And imagine if on the tvs they have around the restaurant they showed a performances from different corps from different years and they played the sound over the speakers. That would be the best. Someone make this a thing.

misterlamp  asked:

(Casually sends this again because you only put 2 sentences and answered it privately) What is your favorite card you've ever owned? What makes it special?

A foil Vexing Beetle.

Why? Story time!

Ten years ago, me and my brother traveled around on the Magic JSS circuit. (That is, the Junior Super Series - a tournament series for kids 16 and under and awarded scholarship money.) Our mom would always travel with us, and at the big championship each year, there was always a parents meet and greet.

Well, in 2004 there was a very special guest in attendance: Richard Garfield! He attended the meet and greet, and my mom ended up in a conversation with him. As he was just about to turn away, my mom realized that her kids, being the avid Magic fans they were, would love nothing more than the holy frail of Magic memorabilia: a Richard Garfield signed card!

She quickly reached into her purse, scraping the bottom for anything she could find. Her hand surfaced clutching the only card she could find: a foil Vexing Beetle.

There was only one card, but two sons. So, she decided the person whose card it was would get it signed: me. Richard took the card, rose an eyebrow noting “nobody has ever asked me to sign one of these before,” and then obliged.

Later that night, mom got back to the hotel room and told us the story. She proudly opened her purse and… voila! Vexing Beetle!

There was only one problem… it was ACTUALLY my brother’s card, not mine as my mom had thought. And yet, my name was written on it by the Grand Garfield himself! It was a true conundrum.

The debate over who it truly belonged to lasted weeks, which became months, which became years. At some point, tired of the nonsense, my mom decided to end this great war by confiscating it herself.

And then, like the One Ring, it was lost and forgotten about. The ages gave way.

That is, until one night, my brother opened a cabinet we always left shut and found it: sitting there, as glimmering and pristine as ever. The instigator of our battle. Our precious.

He took it from its resting spot. The next day, I spotted it in the corner of the room - and so began the next great brotherly war, this time of a different tact. I wanted it back, but couldn’t raise the issue lest our mom overhear and decide to end this fight once for all with a pair of scissors.

It now became an epic of subterfuge. We would steal the card away from each other and hide it in our rooms, each knowing that if mom discovered the story would be cut short.

The true purpose long gone, we stole it back and forth out of sport. Out of curiosity. Out of tradition. We were Apollo and Hermes; Fred and George: Urza and Mishra, all rolled into one. Game of Thrones had nothing on this ongoing spat.

Many great moves were played. I’ll never forget the time my brother feigned relenting, agreeing to trade it to me for a few cards he needed - and then after the trade still stole it back that night anyway. It was the Trojan horse of our battle - and he pulled it off.

But like every great war, there is a tactical position that turns the tides. Something the enemy had overlook. And finally, four years after the battle begun, I had found my ultimate maneuver to finish it.

Being the older sibling, I was due to go to college first. And so, on the night before I moved out to the University, I took back the Beetle one last time - and hid it in one of my packed boxes.

Later on, my brother would congratulate me on my ingenuity.

Though I admit, whenever he visits, the little voice in the back of my head gets slightly nervous that he might find its hiding spot, take it back again and rekindle the feud anew.

And that’s the story of “my” Vexing Beetle.

TL;DR: I own a foil Vexing Beetle signed by Richard Garfield that was actually my brothers. And if you’ve ever had a sibling that you’ve fought over items with, you know just how much meaning it has.