I am posting about the Sylvester the Cat incident because I believe it will serve as a cathartic experience for my friend Heather. She brings up the suit all the time. She wasn’t even there when I wore it. It’s a sick obsession, Heather. You need help. If you force your child (conveniently named “Gregory") to wear a Sylvester the Cat suit for some future Halloween outing, I’m seriously calling the authorities on you.
Six years ago this month I was a starving graduate student trying to earn some Christmas money. I went to a temp agency. I told them about my academic credentials and my vast knowledge of English literature. I took a typing test (120+ words/minute) and demonstrated proficiency in many computer-related applications. They said, “Fantastic. We need you to dress up like Sylvester the Cat.”
Dramatic recreation by trained professional. Do not try at home.
It turned out that the creator of Sylvester the Cat was attending a special birthday party at the Warner Brothers store in Boston’s Copley Square, and I was to hang out in front and promote the event. I assume the guy is dead by now. He was old and senile, and constantly groping the female store employees. When they sat him down to cut the birthday cake, he waved the knife around like Anthony Perkins. Everyone felt lucky to get out of there alive.
I mostly stood out front of the store. An employee was with me at all times, because I could barely see or move, and I could only be in the suit for fifteen minutes at a time. It must have been 120 degrees in there.
I did learn one thing. I learned that people react differently to Sylvester the Cat than they do to Greg Howard:
Only one part of the experience bothered me. Because the suit was so hot, I couldn’t wear pants inside of it. So I had borrowed some Speedy Gonzalez boxer shorts from the store to assist with my constant robing and disrobing in front of female employees. At the end of the evening, when I took off my cat head for the final time, sweat literally splashed on to the floor. I was disgusting.
But they still didn’t let me keep the boxer shorts.
Oh my gosh! Thank you for posting that… I think I may be laughing for a week!
i think i’m traumatized.
I’m seriously disturbed that they wouldn’t let you keep the boxers - that’s disgusting that they would try and sell them. Note to self - never buy anything from the Warner Bros. Store ever!
they re-sold the boxers??
aaaugh!
(no offense to you or your junk...)
incidentally, i have a rather similar story involving a lesser known “captain noah and the marine gang” in which i played both tommy turtle and larry lobster at the museum of science and industry.
except i was in 6th grade.
so? are you a guy or a girl??
see I have people offering me money for information on my gender when I’m just waiting for the bus. So far I’ve almost broken even. And I got to keep the novelty boxers.
let me get this straight: you wanted speedy gonzalez boxer shorts? i’m all for truth in advertising, but keep in mind that mystery is at the heart of romance.
I will never be able to look at amusement park costume characters the same way again. Just imagining them sloshing around in their own sweat… *shudder*
I bet one of those female employees had a secret sweaty boxer-shorts fetish, and took them home. I hope one of them did. I mean, I’m not saying I’d like to buy a pair of Speedy Gonzales boxers, but if I did, I’d like them to be free of six year old Greg-sweat.
It’s worth noting that the entire chain of WB stores went out of business a few years ago. Customer complaints, I suspect.
So that’s what people do with an English major. I’ve always wondered.
If they seriously went out of business, how the hell am I going to return these boxers?
Thank god for that college education eh?
Greg: now I have even more details to feed my obsession. Thank you!
DAMMIT!
I can understand Heather’s obsession.
i think i’m traumatized by this story.
Meow!
I’m with Bryan. Even the Tazmanian Devil would be more intriguing.