Whoo-hoo! Four-day weekend!

I had a feeling that this would be a good weekend on Friday morning when I heard The Real McCoy on the radio during my 20-minute commute. No, not "Another Night," but "Run Away," which I'll argue is a better a song. Those two sentences are probably the most that's been written about The Real McCoy in the past 13 years. Go me.

I'm at a point in my life where doing nothing is fun, but ultimately leaves me feeling worthless. A four-day weekend is an opportunity to set goals, to get things done, to be productive. Granted my goals are usually complete Game A and then promptly begin playing Game B, but hey . . . at least that's something.

Here I am, halfway through this extended MLK weekend and I can't say I've done anything worth mentioning. I had some beers on Friday celebrating a friends birthday, watched a couple of movies and played Rock Band last night with some friends, and--that's it. Oh, and just a word of advice: if you live in an apartment complex above an angry ex-military douche bag whose covered in "Semper Fi" tattoos and has a wife and three terrible kids, you might not want to play Rock Band late at night . . . the noise tends to make said-neighbor quite angry.

I still have two days before I have to go back to work. And hey, two days is a lot of time. That's enough time to perhaps finish Ratchet and Clank or get some more stars in Super Mario Galaxy. Or maybe even make it through all 100 rooms of the Cave of Monsters in Bubble Bobble. Lofty ambitions, I know. Will I do any of those things? Probably not.


I think what I need is a fucking job--no, not a job, a career. Losing that English teaching job to an illiterate party girl has left me feeling more than a little depressed. See, if I had a job, then I would value my time off and actually do things that the non-gaming members of society consider productive! Hmm, that would be something.

But alas, here I am doing nothing. Well, not quite nothing. I am watching the best-dressed coach in the NFL attempt to take his "perfect" team to the Super Bowl. Seriously, as much as I bitch about the Patriots, I love Bill Belichick.