Eulogy of 12E

It's over--finally. Apartment 12E with all of its lesbian residents, reckless-mohawked children, and shitty parking is now a thing of my past.

Moving sucks; but moving on is awesome.

LittleBigtober

I went the entire month of September without updating my blog . . . I'm sure you guys are livid! Haha, yeah right. No one gives a shit. Therefore, this blog will be total nonsense. Can you dig it!?

The only thing I care about in life is the fact that LittleBigPlanet comes out on the 21st. I don't think any of you can understand how fucking jazzed I am for this game . . . I mean, I've been beating off in the shower to thoughts of level editors and Sackboy since the game was first announced at the 2007 GDC. It's almost here!! Rejoice.

Some pretty good goddamn movies came out this week, namely Forgetting Sarah Marshall and Iron Man. I think I'll finally start my "purchase one Blu-ray-a-month" plan to build up my collection. Now if I can only decide whether I'd rather see Robert Downey Jr.'s shiny costume or Jason Segal's schlong in 1080p . . . By the way, that Iron Man has some killer cheek bones.

At the end of this month, I will either be renting or purchasing a home. Big news! I can't decide whether renting or buying is the way to go, because buying is SUCH a big commitment. But I mean, if I'm going to be paying $1100 bucks a month to RENT something, I'd might as well own the goddamn thing, right? It all depends, though, on what I find and what they qualify me for. So stay tuned!

The highest of ku's.

If your kid has a
Mohawk, you should consider
ending your life. Thanks.

Duran Duran is
so very underrated.
Go buy their CDs.

PS3 trumps Wii.
360s "redring" all day.
Lets us play a game.

Late-model Civics
are not fast 'cause they are loud.
Don't try to race me.

I'm sorry that I
had sex with your big sister.
She came onto me.

These chips are now more
nacho-cheesier. Where do
they put all that cheese?

It's easy to fuck
up a good thing by being
a douchebag. So don't.

Medal Count

Michael Phelps won a whole bunch of medals the other day. How many, you ask? I dunno, I lost count somewhere around 27.

The Olympics are back--and yes, those italics are necessary. From the opening ceremonies, which were something out of the future, to Phelps's ridiculous medal hording, it seems as though these games won't go down as a snoozer . . . Which is good, because NBC spent good money on this shit!

The "modern" games have really become quite the spectacle. And by "modern," of course I mean the 1896 revival of the ancient naked Greek competitions. Apparently, the world got tired of economic and military pissing contests, and decided to compete for athletic superiority.

It's funny how we all care so much about these esoteric athletics for two weeks, and then completely forget their existence once the torch is extinguished. Is that an American thing or a global thing? Perhaps the rest of the world still continues to support water polo and competitive weight lifting by selling-out arenas and televising meets.

Then there's the athletes themselves, who dedicate their lives to sports that only a handful of people give a damn about, to which there is no money to be made, and for what? A medal? Their photo on a Wheaties box? An appearance on Letterman? I feel kinda sorry for these guys, especially when I see Home Depot commercials proudly proclaiming that they employ more Olympic hopefuls than any other company . . . OK, Mrs. Olympic Sabre Gold Medalist, after your 15 minutes are over, you'll be stocking shelves in the garden section of Home Depot. SAD.

Fake sports and Home Depot employees aside, I really do love watching the games. I watch it for hours, and when I'm not home to watch, I have the DVR set to record it. It's like I'm in a trance, hypnotized by voice of Bob Costas, unable to change the channel.
The only thing that detracts from the experience is the fact that it's on network TV. I've become a bit of a television snob, relegating my viewing to primarily HBO original series. So, to see NBC hawk such GOD AWFUL shit in between each event makes me want to throw up. So far, the NBC fall lineup is as follows:

The Christian Slater Double-Agent Show--The former teen idol and Jack Nicholson wannabe brings his widow's peak to prime time! He's a normal guy--oh, wait--he's holding an AK-47! I smell an Emmy.

ER, The Final Season (For reals this time!)--The Michael Crichton-produced medical drama that's been on the air longer than Saturday Night Live has come to an end. In order to generate interest in this shark-jumping turd, Hollywood has-beens John Stamos and Angela Bassett join the cast! How very exciting.

Crusoe--The extremely boring 18th century Defoe novel gets strung out into a series that promises to be just like LOST, only with less smoke monsters and more cannibals.

Alright, time to go. I've got a U.S. men's synchronized swimming team to root for.

Stan Lee I am not.

So there's this program on my computer called Comic Life, and I've never even bothered to see what it was all about . . . until now. Here's my first (read: pithy) attempt. There's nothing wrong with a little self-parody, right?!

(CLICK ME)

Karate Kid Part II sucks.

You can judge the quality of people living in an apartment complex by the beer boxes in the dumpster.

There was an alarmingly large amount of "Natty Light" boxes in mine yesterday . . . .

I think it's time to relocate.

The Dark Hype

Christopher Nolan's latest macabre superhero film is out. I dunno, you might have heard of it . . . It's called The Dark Knight, or something.

The Batman mythos is celebrated for its dark, mature, often psychological themes; something at which I take issue with. The Bruce Wayne character is essentially a billionaire vigilante nutcase with a proclivity for wearing capes and masks. Does that sound dark? Or mature? Not really . . . Because despite constant attempts to legitimize the hokeyness surrounding the almost 70-year-old character, at the end of the day it's still a fantasy and it's still a superhero story.

My experiences with Batman have been bittersweet, with the sweet to bitter ratio at about 3:4. Because for every "brilliant re-imagining" of the character, there's always a few Adam West/Joel Schumacher cockups right around the corner. Despite being let down several times, I still feel that I am invested nostalgically to the character. I was around for the 1989 Batman-mania that ensued as a result of Tim Burton's film. I saw it in the theaters, played the NES game, and even had that ubiquitous t-shirt.


I am eager to see The Dark Knight, but I've noticed an alarming trend in people loving it before they've seen it. It's for that reason that I am going to approach the movie with a bit of trepidation, and try not to let the avalanche of hype influence my opinions on it. I'm also avoiding the opening weekend shows, as well. Hollering nerds and fanboys could have a negative effect on my judgment.

So, enjoy the movie everyone! I know all you assholes are gonna see it. I'll leave you with photos of the most embarrassing moments in Batman history.

. . . . . .

Prince is lucky he's such a bad ass . . .

Yeah. I would've voted for him, too.

If it weren't for Michael Clayton, I don't think I'd be able to forgive you, George.

Keep in mind, this guy makes over $20 million per movie.

Who needs to work out when your shirt has fully articulated faux-abs?

NOhawk

Over the past couple of days I helped out my roommate by manning one of the PS3 booths at the Streetfest. It was really easy work, consisting primarily of people watching and answering any Sony-related questions that the denizens had, of which there were few. Anywho, the people watching took up the majority of my time, and in the process I noticed an alarmingly high number of people sporting Mohawks. I really do not understand the appeal of this hairstyle at all . . . So I decided to do a little Wiki-research on this, the most socially unacceptable of coiffures.

The term "Mohawk" originated from the name of an Indian tribe in upstate New York. I already knew this . . . I didn't, however, know that they lived in longhouses instead of tepees. Just like Little Bear from Indian in the Cupboard! These Mohawk Indians were pretty intense, and apparently only the warriors war the hairstyle. This is presumably to scare the fuck out of the enemies, especially these guys:

I know for a fact that if I was this fag back in the 1700s, wielding a single-shot musket and weighted down by 30 pounds of superfluous clothing and I saw a near-naked Indian with a crazy hairdo charging at me with a homemade bludgeon that I would shit my pants instantly. That, folks, is the purpose of the hairstyle, and it was mighty effective . . .

Fast-forward a couple hundred years and we find ourselves at the birth of the punk movement. Basically a bunch of malnourished British kids started dressing wacky and hating everything. Then a select few of these "punks" started writing songs about all the things that they hated. The hairstyle of choice of these kids (at least the one that the media latched onto,) was the Mohawk. The modern advances in hair-color-altering chemicals gave the punks a rainbow of options to personalize their 'dos.
After 20-or-so years of pissing people off, the Mohawk became passé. The punks held onto their hair-gel-consuming hairstyle, however, despite the fact that toddlers have them. Shit like this is becoming the norm everywhere:

Not only are children bastardizing the original shit-your-pants-inducing intent of the Mohawk, but male fashionistas everywhere have made their own version of style. I like to call it the non-committal Mohawk, because Faux Hawk sounds pretentious. Men in designer clothes take their normal-everyday short hairstyle and comb it up in the shape of Mohawk. This of course is a pussy way to wear a Mohawk, and makes the whole thing even more annoying than if they went all out in the first place!

Now-a-days there is nothing at all shocking about a Mohawk. There is no statement to be made by having one, other than letting everyone know that you are, in fact, an idiot.

Mike Myers? FTW!

All over the country today, Mike Myers' latest exercise in unfunny self-indulgence thinly disguised as a film opens in theaters. Unless you live your life like the uni-bomber, you've no doubt been bombarded with the cram-it-down-your-throat advertising campaign that has managed to plaster Myers' stupid face on everything from billboards to postage stamps. I don't know about you guys, but I hope that The Love Guru ends up being the Waterloo of Mike Myers movies; once and for all putting an end to a career consisting of 15 years of recycled gags.

"Hey, look! He put his pinkie up again! Whatta gas!"

In the post-Wayne's World-era of Myers' career, he's made one film that has been the embodiment of every fucking thing he has ever done since. That film is, of course, So I Married an Axe Murderer. Within the 90-or-so-minutes of Axe Murderer, you'll see the makings of every character that has managed to make Mike Myers a billionaire and a household name in the subsequent years. Here's just one example, presented in easy to understand visual format:

=


=

The angry Scottish man voice is so funny! Seriously, though . . . three fucking characters? Has anyone noticed this? Does anyone even care?! I think it's a travesty that Myers is literally wallowing in money, when his old comedic partner and the real reason behind the hilarity of Wayne's World, Dana Carvey, can't get a fucking break. But I digress . . .

As I said before, this is only one example. The gamut of Austin Powers characters make an appearance in way or in another in So I Married an Axe Murderer. The only thing that is really missing from Myers' comedic arsenal is the presence of Vern Troyer. Although I'm sure if Myers had discovered the little guy with no self-respect way back then, you best believe he would've found a way to shoehorn his tiny ass into the script.

"I'm funny because I'm short!"

I suggest we all make a pact to not go see The Love Guru this weekend. Doing so will only result in more movies featuring all three of his impressions, Vern Troyer being short jokes, cameos by flavor-of-the-month celebrities, and nauseatingly persistent ad campaigns.

Mobile

Sent from my iPhone

Keanu Peeved

The other day I got it in my head that I needed to watch Point Break again. You know, the one where young FBI agent Johnny Utah attempts to infiltrate a community of surfers who are also bank robbers? Anyways, it's a fucking classic, despite the fact that said FBI agent is played by the deplorable Keanu Reeves.

I've tried to understand why someone as talentless as Reeves has managed to maintain a successful career for over 20 years. I suppose that there will always be a need for characters that say "dude" a lot in movies, and he's definitely the go-to man for those roles.

But despite how much he sucks, he's been making movies for a long, long time. So quantitatively speaking, there's bound to be a couple more movies that he hasn't managed to completely by simply being cast in them, right? Let us examine this. Here I have assembled a list of the best non-Point Break Keanu Reeves movies.

The River's Edge, 1987
This [mostly] brilliant teen-angst drama focuses on the lives of several friends and their ambivalent reactions to a murder. Reeves is perfectly cast as a teen that says "dude" a lot. We also get to witness some real acting from the likes of Crispin Glover and Dennis Hopper.

Parenthood, 1989
A multi-generational examination of why having children will ultimately ruin your life. Reeves is charming in his portrayal of Diane Wiest's daughter's boyfriend that says "dude" a lot. The rest of the cast is like a who's-who of early 90's movies, with Steve Martin, Mary Steenburgen, Rick Moranis, MARTHA PLIMPTON, and Tom Hulce.

Speed, 1994
A bus armed with explosives must maintain a speed of at least 50 miles-per-hour or else it will explode. Bitchin'! The only problem is that Sandra Bullock is driving, and she sucks pretty hard. Reeves seems to reprise his role of Johnny Utah here, only with a shaved head this time. Dennis Hopper shows up once again opposite Reeves as the madman that put the explosives on the bus. If you like this one, be sure to check out the sequel, Speed 2: Cruise Control, I heard it was pretty good.*







*Just kidding!

Leave Kitty alone!

As I was driving up the street about to turn into my apartment today, I saw a woman pushing what looked like a stroller. A second glance, however, revealed that it wasn't a stroller at all, but some sort of feline-torture device. I know people love their pets--and some people really love their pets--but come on!

I've only had one cat in my life (RIP Lucy,) which by no means makes me an expert, though I'm pretty sure that every cat on the planet would hate being rolled around in one these contraptions more than being sprayed with a garden hose. So I beg of you, cat-owners, let your cats be the lazy balls of allergens that they are, and stop contributing to the industry of ridiculous and unnecessary bourgeois pet products.

I also got Stockard Channing and Olympia Dukakis mixed up today. But that's another story!

Strike Four

Being excited about the fourth installment of the Indian Jones series goes against everything I believe in. I am always the first to poo-poo such blatant Hollywood profiteering at the expense of idiotic fanboyism, but fuck . . . It looks so cool!

It's been 19-g0ddamn years since Harrison Ford last outing as the world's most intrepid archaeologist and since that time, the business has changed for the worst. Stuntmen have been replaced by CGI and movie sets are nothing more than a sound stage with a huge green screen suspended from the ceiling. This computer-generated chicanery has taken a lot of the "gee wiz!" out of modern blockbusters. I can't even enjoy these movies, because my cynical ass spends the whole time trying to find the cuts where Spider-Man goes from costumed-Tobey McGuire to animated puppet. So I offer this plea: Please! Don't do that to my beloved Indie!

I know my begging is in vain, considering the film has been in the can for months and is now just a couple of days away from release . . . but wishful thinking never hurt anybody, right? And fuck, who am I kidding? I'm gonna go see the thing regardless of any amount of negative reviews I read and CGI-overflowing trailers that I see.

I have high hopes, but I'm pretty sure that I will treat the film like I treat all of the modern superfluous sequels to established series that have come out in recent years. Example:

Die Hard was (and still is, in my eyes) a trilogy. Three movies that I will continue to watch until I'm old and impotent because I enjoy Bruce Willis' everyman hero John McClain and explosions. But the money grubbing bastards weren't satisfied to let me have my three-film set, oh no! They decided to unleash upon the world a PG-13 abortion of a film starring an over-the-hill Willis and then had the audacity to call it Die Hard 4! I paid my money and watched it, but I don't recognize it as an official part of the Die Hard canon. I see it for what it is. And it will exist thusly for me, and I hope for other fans of the series as well.

This new Indiana Jones will likely find a place on the shelf next to Die Hard 4 and Terminator 3. It's a movie that never should have been made.

But hey, who wants to go see it with me!?

Dribble

The single best thing I saw all week was a poodle sticking out of the window of a truck wearing a rugby shirt. That is, the poodle was wearing the shirt, not the truck . . . Hilarious! If my camera-phone-photography skills were up to snuff as they should be, you best believe I would've taken a pic of that amazing sight. Sadly though, your imagination will just have to do. I suppose you could Google "poodle in rugby shirt" and probably get some satisfactory results. Gotta love the interweb . . .

You know what else you should love? Grand Theft Auto IV. I know, I know . . . I'm as disappointed in myself as you all are with me given the amount of time that I have let pass by without contributing my opinion of "TEH B3ST GAME EVAR!" I bought it on launch day for the PS3 because I couldn't possibly give a fuck less about the exclusive downloadable content that's coming out later on for the 360. So yeah, Sony fanboys unite!

It really is an amazing experience. Once you get over the fact that the characters still look a lot like Muppets, you'll be totally engrossed. It is a little weird, though, I must admit, the first time you see a Muppet-esque character doing a line of cocaine. But after that it's all good!

I'm not terribly far into the game, because my progress has been marred by two things: my general lack of GTA adroitness and Boom Blox. I die in the game. A lot. I'm not ashamed to admit that. The controls are way better than Rockstar's PS2 outings, but they still will lead me to my death rather often. That isn't to say that it's frustrating, it's quite the contrary. The open-ended nature of the game allows you attempt missions multiple ways, which will be necessary if you suck as much as I do.

The hype is fucking annoying, I know. But try to ignore it and experience the game for yourself. If you have an Xbox 360 or a PS3 and aren't one of those hardcore, conservative, violent videogames-caused-Columbine-kinda moms, then you'll surely love it.

No Substitutions

I hate my job. I know that at 5pm on Fridays, about 95% of Americans say those same four words as they speed off to happy hour. Complaining about work is like complaining about traffic or taxes, it's useless because it sucks for everyone. Work is work. It's the necessary, perfunctory endeavor that we all just have to get over.

That said, please excuse the following rant. I had a particularly-patience-taxing day today, and I'd like an avenue to bitch, and what better avenue than my own fucking blog! Yes, this is indeed the best place to complain about shit. So I'd like to send the following "Fuck you!"s out to those that make my job terrible:


Fuck you, kid who experiences the world through the left-head phone of your friend's iPod. You don't own a fucking iPod, it's okay! I didn't either for a long time. But scooting your desk super close to your friend and listening to one-half of his/her shitty music collection is both impractical and annoying to all of those around you. My advice: Go to fucking Burger King, fill out an application, work for one month, buy your own goddamn MP3 player, and then quit.

Fuck you, overweight kid that dresses in super tight "emo" clothes that wouldn't even fit your 90-lb "emo" friend! We know that tight pants are in, and everybody is wearing them. But when you have a fucking 42-inch waist, you should not be shopping in the children's section.

Fuck you, overly aggressive cholo that goes out into the hall to talk to your friends without permission! It may take away from your street cred, but goddammit you better start taking life seriously. You guys are already 17-years old with freshman credits, because you've always been more concerned about the latest issue of Low Rider Magazine than getting a passing average in algebra.

Fuck you, stupid girl that goes "to the bathroom" and is gone for 25 minutes and returns to class with a Coke and a bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos. You are an ugly, ugly person. I can't let the sad nerdy kid that probably has to take a dump go the bathroom, because you're off socializing and buying snacks for half an hour. People like you ruin lives.



Whew, that totally feels better. Is it still happy hour!?

Happiness is a warm [laser] gun.

Richard and I were watching Back to the Future II for the eighth time in four days (gotta love the variety of programming that 12 HBO channels offers,) and talking about its depiction of the future. For those of you who lacked a childhood, Back to the Future II is the flawless sequel to one of the best films ever made about time travel. This time around, Doc and Marty take the Delorean to the year 2015, which is pretty much the late 80's with a bunch of future clichés thrown in. You know, flying cars, video phones, holograms, etc.

A lifetime of watching movies like this has made me a little disappointed of the future that we live in. Sure, we have the Internet in our pockets, PS3s, and cardboard boxes that pop up fresh tissues each time you pull one out, but there's still stuff that's lacking. Wouldn't you guys like to see food pellets that are adequate substitutes for full meals? Conveyor belt sidewalks? Robot companions? Cities in the sky?

Personally, the future innovation that I'm most disappointed about still not coming to fruition is the laser gun, or if you're old school--the ray gun. Campy sci-fi pulp dating back 60 and 70 years featured images of spacemen wielding weapons that emitted not bullets, but lasers or concentric circles of light. Now, I'm not a weapons enthusiast by any means. I don't belong to the NRA and I could give a fuck less about the recent passing of their biggest celebrity member and bible film star Charlton Heston . . . but I want to live in a world where laser guns exist! A world where gangsters carry electric "gats" instead "9's" and shootouts are more like Hoth than South Central Los Angeles.

The second amendment has gotten stale. As long as guns are mechanical, gun powder-filled, bullet holding contraptions, I'm boycotting weapons all together. The future is now!

Kirb Your Enthusiasm

The Smash Bros. thing still hasn't gotten old. Sorry, I promise I will only talk about it for a little while this time. My two favorite characters in the game are Meta Knight and King Dedede, both of which are from the Kirby universe. I've always loved Kirby. The charm of the characters always overshadowed the mohawked-baby-level difficulty and resulted in some really enjoyable games. Anyways, all this Smash Bros.-induced Kirby musing encouraged me to dust off my copy of Kirby's Adventure for the NES and start playing it again. And needless to say; brilliance ensued.

I'm in Yogurt Land right now, and I fucking love it. It's amazing how much animation they managed to pull out of the NES. Kirby's gelatinous body reacts exactly how you'd expect to the environments and situations. The gameplay is also spot-on, which you would expect from any platformer developed in-house at Nintendo. This was also the first Kirby game that allowed you steal your enemies' abilities by eating them. The variety and usefulness of these power-ups keeps things interesting. I highly recommend it if you have a functioning NES or a Wii, since it's available on Virtual Console.

I wish Nintendo would get on the fucking ball and hurry up and release Kirby's Dreamland 3 on the Virtual Console. Sadly, I missed this particular Kirby outing when it was originally released on the SNES. I blame it on the fact that the SNES was gasping its dying breaths underneath trampling "32-bit" and "64-bit" consoles. It's sad, really. But I will play it someday!

I made two purchases today. One of which won't be here for a few days because I bought it online. Oh, and fuck you Best Buy for not carrying it. You have about 70 copies of Wild Hogs on Blu-Ray, but you can't spare the shelf-space for a masterpiece?!
My other purchase was a wild-hair sort of thing. I'm sure that my memory has been kind to this show, and that actually seeing will tarnish my childhood in some irrevocable way . . . but fuck it. This is sitting in my living room and I'm watching it tonight!

In other materialistic news, the Dual Shock 3 hits next week with a $55 price tag. I've been pretty vocal about how I'm totally over rumble, which I am, but I think I'll be forced to pick this up. You see, the SIXAXIS is the PS3's current standard controller, and it's perfectly functional, only it weighs about 5 micrograms. There's no substance to it. No heft. Anyone who knows me knows that I need heft. Oh, and it comes in white, too. Bitchin'.

Colonoscopy

Apartments: I hate living in an apartment. Well, perhaps that's a bit extreme--sometimes I hate living in this apartment. I've mentioned the shitfest family that lives downstairs and their terrible mohawked children. Yes, mohawks. If any of you reading this have children and give them a mohawk before their actually old enough to "rebel" and choose to get a mohawk themselves, then you are setting your child on a path to unemployment, crime, numerous STDs, bastard children of their own, and overall awfulness. Fuck them. Oh, then there's the dick head in the black Honda Civic that parks in the middle of the lot completely blocking access to my parking space overnight. I tried to get his car towed to no avail. There is no justice in this world.

Eulogy: Lex and I downloaded Super Mario World on the Virtual Console the other night and began the super fun task of 96-ing it while drunk. This made me realize how much Nintendo is snoozing by holding out on the release of Super Mario World 2 Yoshi's Island. So, the next day I dug out my SNES and fired it up; only there was no fire. I panicked. I tried plugging the AC adapter into another outlet, but it still wouldn't work. This is seriously tragic, folks. The little grey box that served as a vessel for some of the best entertainment products ever produced is dead. I'm talking about A Link to the Past, Super Castlevania IV, Contra III, Super Mario Kart, Street Fighter II, Super Metroid, Kirby's Dream Course . . . TRAGIC. And don't even try to tell me about emulation. It's not the same.

Inland Empire: I don't think I've given any blogspace to Inland Empire, which is pretty goddamn shameful on my part. The film has been available on DVD for over six months, so you should own it already. But for those of you haven't seen it, you are totally missing out on an experience. My words cannot do Lynch's work any justice, so I'll refrain from even trying. Oh, and download the song Polish Poem and listen to it on repeat.

Going Out: I met my friend Sandra and her boyfriend Tom last night at the ol' hangout and was immediately uncomfortable about being there. I asked Tom, who hails from San Diego, if he finds going out in California to be the terrible exercise in boredom that I think it is here. He pretty much said the same things that I've been bitching about, which made me feel a lot better. It's not that I've become embittered and anti-social, it's just that the people that frequent bars are 90% garbage.

Halo 3: New maps. Time to pwn some n00bZ.

Dojo Dump[ing]

You should probably go to Hawaii. It's good for you. It's good for your mind, body, soul, and libido.

I've been back since Tuesday, and I haven't done a whole lot since. I miss the smell of the beach and the general Jurassic Park-esque appearance of everything. But hey, it was fun!

I posted some photos on the ol' Fakebook, but I don't know what the fuck is up with my photo application. It somehow disappeared from the list underneath my profile picture, and in order to find it I had to go through other people's photos of me. Weeeeeird. But yeah, they're totally there for your viewing/commenting/masturbation material use. Just kidding! Kind of.

There isn't a whole lot else going on in this life of mine. The wicked get-paid-to-do-nothing tutoring job that I was milking ended. *Le sigh* The reason, of course, was lack of funds. Which I was pretty much expecting any day now, but it still sucks. I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to the kiddies. You see, unlike subbing, I worked with the same kids everyday. Some of them were garbage, but a lot of them were pretty cool. Oh well, perhaps they'll think of me when taking the state-mandated aptitude test.

Other than that, I have been completely consumed by Super Smash Bros. Brawl. I didn't play either of the two prequels with any regularity, so what's old-hat to most is FULL-ON WIN to me. It's beautiful chaos. It's super easy to mash buttons, so your videogame-hating girlfriend can pick it up and give it a go. But the more you play, the more you realize that there are a shit-ton of things going on at once that you need to be constantly aware of. This is where the "strategy" element comes in. Sure, like Mario Kart and Mario Party there's a chance factor with the item distribution that can rapidly change the momentum of the match. But, if you're aware of what's going on around you, you can still prevail. Which is why I think I like it so much more than I though I would. As I said, having never played it the prequels I completely missed the depth. It's definitely not Virtua Fighter 5, but you can be good at it.


I'm in the process of unlocking characters right now, which is very time consuming, but I still have some time for multiplayer. If I haven't already gotten your child-predator-proof friend code from you, go ahead and send it my way. My Meta Knight skillZ will be feared by all.

Flex and hold

The only good thing about going to the gym is the people watching, no doubt about it. Even though there are multiple big screens showing things like Seinfeld and Jeopardy!, I'm much more entertained by watching the people that come and go from the cardio-room.

I always wonder, "Do these people hate coming here as much as I do?" Working out sucks. It really, really does. There about 900 things I can think of off the top of my head that I'd rather do than run in place like a fucking hamster or lift heavy objects. Right?!

Sure, some people love the gym. You know the ones, the guys that drink steroid smoothies and buy their tank tops two-sizes too small to emphasize their guns. But what about everyone else? What about the mildly overweight mom and the balding dad? Are they really enjoying themselves there? I seriously doubt it.

Keep on working out all you want, buddy. We'll still hate you.

I don't want to go into self-esteem issues, and society pressure to be fit, and all that bullshit that's been said a million times. We all know that the vast majority of gym-goers are like mildly overweight mom, balding dad, and myself. We go in vain. We go simply to feel better about ourselves at the end of the day. Because seriously, the time it would take to make any drastic change in our bodies is something that we aren't willing to sacrifice.

I sure-as-fuck aren't giving up my FFXII sessions, mildly overweight mom ain't giving up her PTA meeting, and balding dad, well . . . He's got shit to do, too. And that's fine! Barely working out is better than not working out at all.

So the next time you skip going to the gym because you're just soooo busy, don't fret. At least you make the effort sometimes. Like today, I was busy playing Super Buster Bros. with Richard, so I just couldn't find the time. But yeah, I'll be there tomorrow. Totally.