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.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Finality times twelve
I'm not tired at all. I should be, because I "worked" today; there's a possibility that I'll do it again tomorrow. But tired? Nah . . . sleep is for n00bZ.
Earlier today, I spoke to my friend about the inevitable redundancy of life. Even though I know it's unavoidable, it still bothers me. It seems as though that life is made up of a number of constants that can be marginally effected by a few variables. The constants are, of course, the aspects of life that make us fit into society: waking up in the morning, working, paying bills, etc. The variables are the distractions. Leisure. Activities, relationships, and states of being, that when added, subtracted, multiplied or divided by the constants help to make things interesting.
The beauty of it is, we can choose whether we focus our attention and efforts on the constants or the variables. I have friends that are perfectly content to follow the routine, pay their taxes, and exist as productive citizens. By that same token, there's the floaty vagabonds that don't have any idea what the fuck is going on, and love it that way. Neither way is wrong, it's just a choice that people tend to make when they "grow up."
My problem is that I cannot decide which category I fall into. I suppose at 25, I'm about as grown up as I am going to get . . . Yet I still exist in this quasi-adolescent, hedonistic fantasy land--where I want to be taken seriously as an adult, but sure as fuck don't act like one.
I've adopted several "philosophies" over the years, all of which ultimately contradicted each other to the point of death. There was no overlap, here. These ideas were mostly the results of external variable factors, such as the girl I was dating, or the group of friends I was hanging out with, or whatever. I'm not especially susceptible to group-think, but I had my moments of weakness.
The question is, can there really be a balance? I'm pretty sure that these constants and variables form a system, and not an equation. Those may claim to have balance in their lives, but they're always leaning more in one direction than the other.
WHO KNOWS!?
I don't think I ever will. I do know, however, that it's really fucking easy to stray from your intended topic of discussion when the hour is late and your mind begins to wander. I suppose I'll write about Final Fantasy XII some other time.
It's bedtime for Bonzo.
Earlier today, I spoke to my friend about the inevitable redundancy of life. Even though I know it's unavoidable, it still bothers me. It seems as though that life is made up of a number of constants that can be marginally effected by a few variables. The constants are, of course, the aspects of life that make us fit into society: waking up in the morning, working, paying bills, etc. The variables are the distractions. Leisure. Activities, relationships, and states of being, that when added, subtracted, multiplied or divided by the constants help to make things interesting.
The beauty of it is, we can choose whether we focus our attention and efforts on the constants or the variables. I have friends that are perfectly content to follow the routine, pay their taxes, and exist as productive citizens. By that same token, there's the floaty vagabonds that don't have any idea what the fuck is going on, and love it that way. Neither way is wrong, it's just a choice that people tend to make when they "grow up."
My problem is that I cannot decide which category I fall into. I suppose at 25, I'm about as grown up as I am going to get . . . Yet I still exist in this quasi-adolescent, hedonistic fantasy land--where I want to be taken seriously as an adult, but sure as fuck don't act like one.
I've adopted several "philosophies" over the years, all of which ultimately contradicted each other to the point of death. There was no overlap, here. These ideas were mostly the results of external variable factors, such as the girl I was dating, or the group of friends I was hanging out with, or whatever. I'm not especially susceptible to group-think, but I had my moments of weakness.
The question is, can there really be a balance? I'm pretty sure that these constants and variables form a system, and not an equation. Those may claim to have balance in their lives, but they're always leaning more in one direction than the other.
WHO KNOWS!?
I don't think I ever will. I do know, however, that it's really fucking easy to stray from your intended topic of discussion when the hour is late and your mind begins to wander. I suppose I'll write about Final Fantasy XII some other time.
It's bedtime for Bonzo.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Splooge to the Music!
It's alarming how many songs out there feature lyrics about ejaculation. Seriously, "bitch" and "ass" are taboo on most radio stations, but if a song features detailed descriptions of fucking splooging--well, that's a-ok. This of course is nothing new, because as long as men and women have been able to strum chords on a guitar, they've written songs about their climaxes.
It's just one of those counterintuitive censorship mentalities you see in every media. On television for instance, people get shot, operated on, ran over, punched in the face, strangled, and tortured during prime time. But will you ever see a bare ass or--gasp--a female nipple?! Fuck no. After every bible thumping soccer mom in the country had a brain hemorrhage when Janet Jackson's boob popped out during the Super Bowl, all bets have been off. Violence: fine. Sex: very bad.
Which brings me back to the music thing. I really cannot see in any way how this sort of thing is allowed. It's not like it could possibly "slip by" the censors. 'Cause dammit, I don't care if you're a prepubescent teen or old enough to have seen both World Wars, when someone says "come into you," there's only one goddamn thing that could mean.
Seriously, I'm trying to think of how one can "come into" someone else and have it be appropriate subject matter somewhere other than Penthouse Forums, and I just can't. To paraphrase my dashboard dictionary, "come" is a present tense verb that means to move toward, travel, accompany, reach to, occur, join, make progress, and become apparent to. All of those are things that people do, but none of which can be done in someone else. So even in the broadest interpretation of the word, if you're coming into someone, you are fucking that person and fucking ejaculating--nothing else!
You don't have too look very deep into your music folder to find examples of this, either. Every artist from the über risqué to the most squeaky clean does it--and it's embraced by all. In fact biggest song of 2007 nothing but an ode to the money shot. You know the one, where the skinny girl sings euphemistically about umbrellas and rain? Well anyways, the last few lines of the song go like this:
It's just one of those counterintuitive censorship mentalities you see in every media. On television for instance, people get shot, operated on, ran over, punched in the face, strangled, and tortured during prime time. But will you ever see a bare ass or--gasp--a female nipple?! Fuck no. After every bible thumping soccer mom in the country had a brain hemorrhage when Janet Jackson's boob popped out during the Super Bowl, all bets have been off. Violence: fine. Sex: very bad.
Which brings me back to the music thing. I really cannot see in any way how this sort of thing is allowed. It's not like it could possibly "slip by" the censors. 'Cause dammit, I don't care if you're a prepubescent teen or old enough to have seen both World Wars, when someone says "come into you," there's only one goddamn thing that could mean.
Seriously, I'm trying to think of how one can "come into" someone else and have it be appropriate subject matter somewhere other than Penthouse Forums, and I just can't. To paraphrase my dashboard dictionary, "come" is a present tense verb that means to move toward, travel, accompany, reach to, occur, join, make progress, and become apparent to. All of those are things that people do, but none of which can be done in someone else. So even in the broadest interpretation of the word, if you're coming into someone, you are fucking that person and fucking ejaculating--nothing else!
You don't have too look very deep into your music folder to find examples of this, either. Every artist from the über risqué to the most squeaky clean does it--and it's embraced by all. In fact biggest song of 2007 nothing but an ode to the money shot. You know the one, where the skinny girl sings euphemistically about umbrellas and rain? Well anyways, the last few lines of the song go like this:
. . . baby come into me
Come into me
It's raining (raining)
Ooo baby it's raining
You can always come into me
Come into me
Always, huh? Well, I sure hope little Rihanna is on the pill. But all joking aside, this song was huge. Fucking huge. So abhorrently popular that it's a likely candidate to appear on the next Kidz Bop CD and it's all about coming.
Now I'm the last person to promote censorship, I fucking hate it. But I would like to see some consistency with what's edited and what isn't. If shit pop songs can rule the airwaves with lyrics like this, then why the can't you say "shit" on TV? It makes no sense.
If you'll excuse me, I'm going to listen to some radio-friendly erotica.
Come into me
It's raining (raining)
Ooo baby it's raining
You can always come into me
Come into me
Always, huh? Well, I sure hope little Rihanna is on the pill. But all joking aside, this song was huge. Fucking huge. So abhorrently popular that it's a likely candidate to appear on the next Kidz Bop CD and it's all about coming.
Now I'm the last person to promote censorship, I fucking hate it. But I would like to see some consistency with what's edited and what isn't. If shit pop songs can rule the airwaves with lyrics like this, then why the can't you say "shit" on TV? It makes no sense.
If you'll excuse me, I'm going to listen to some radio-friendly erotica.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Movies That I Will NEVER See - Valentine's Edition
Well, it's Valentine's Day--my favorite day of the year. As I type this, poor saps everywhere are being subjected to two-hour plus waits at restaurants because they fear the wrath of their girlfriend/wife/girl-that-they-are-currently-bedding. And for what, really? A made-up holiday that forces us to do nice things for the people that we love, things that we should be doing all year? Yeah, I don't buy it. But enough bitterness! I'm eating candy and "St. Elmo's Fire (Man in Motion)" just came on my iTunes, so I'm happy!
So as I sit home with my candy and John Parr music, I'll be safe from these rotten examples of holiday tie-in cinema.
DEFINITELY, MAYBE
Ryan Reynolds plays a loving but misogynistic father who's having a hard time telling his daughter who her mother is because of all the women he fucked the year she was born. But instead of being perturbed by this, the daughter thinks trying to figure out who her mom is from stories of her dad's promiscuous past is a fun game! Then the audience goes, "Awww!" Seriously, who greenlighted this? They can stamp it with all the "From the makers of Love Actually" stamps in the world, and I still wouldn't go see the goddamn thing. Oh, and Ryan Reynolds looks like Dane Cook. I fucking hate Dane Cook.
STEP UP 2 THE STREETS
If there was any movie from 2006 that cried out for a sequel, it was Step Up. The ending left audiences wondering, "Will they ever dance again?!" Well, the answer is here. And I hate to spoil it for you, but they dance! That's it! More fucking dancing. A whole lot of dancing. People dancing in warehouse with a bunch of people standing around watching them. Dancing with the latest hip-hop hit playing in the background. With all that dancing and a title sounds like something that a moron who uses numbers instead of letters would text message to another moron who uses numbers instead of letters, you can't go wrong!
JUMPER
The kid who ruined my childlike feelings of awe whenever I saw Darth Vader takes yet another sci-fi role as a teleporting guy who gets hunted by . . . other teleporting guys. One of the "other" teleporting guys is the venerable Samuel L. Jackson, who dons a white coif and proves once again that he'll gladly play any part that's thrown at him. This one is rated PG-13 for a generic sci-fi premise, bad acting, mild violence, and language.
So as I sit home with my candy and John Parr music, I'll be safe from these rotten examples of holiday tie-in cinema.
DEFINITELY, MAYBE
Ryan Reynolds plays a loving but misogynistic father who's having a hard time telling his daughter who her mother is because of all the women he fucked the year she was born. But instead of being perturbed by this, the daughter thinks trying to figure out who her mom is from stories of her dad's promiscuous past is a fun game! Then the audience goes, "Awww!" Seriously, who greenlighted this? They can stamp it with all the "From the makers of Love Actually" stamps in the world, and I still wouldn't go see the goddamn thing. Oh, and Ryan Reynolds looks like Dane Cook. I fucking hate Dane Cook.STEP UP 2 THE STREETS
If there was any movie from 2006 that cried out for a sequel, it was Step Up. The ending left audiences wondering, "Will they ever dance again?!" Well, the answer is here. And I hate to spoil it for you, but they dance! That's it! More fucking dancing. A whole lot of dancing. People dancing in warehouse with a bunch of people standing around watching them. Dancing with the latest hip-hop hit playing in the background. With all that dancing and a title sounds like something that a moron who uses numbers instead of letters would text message to another moron who uses numbers instead of letters, you can't go wrong!JUMPER
The kid who ruined my childlike feelings of awe whenever I saw Darth Vader takes yet another sci-fi role as a teleporting guy who gets hunted by . . . other teleporting guys. One of the "other" teleporting guys is the venerable Samuel L. Jackson, who dons a white coif and proves once again that he'll gladly play any part that's thrown at him. This one is rated PG-13 for a generic sci-fi premise, bad acting, mild violence, and language.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Maybe I'll Be Fast as You
Saying that the weekend went by too fast would be stating the obvious--and I hate stating the obvious--so I won't say it.
Even though I spent the past two-and-a-half days being anti-social, I had a good time. I should should address, though, that being anti-social means not going out and drinking. I've decided to attempt being healthy in the days leading up to my trip. You know, not eat junk food, avoid the beer, exercise and all that bullshit. So far it hasn't been very difficult, but I doubt that it's making any real difference. In a little over a month I'll be one of the countless flabby, untanned, mainlander tourists at the beach. Score!
I suppose I was social on Saturday night, although I am not sure if people coming over to your apartment and playing videogames all night counts as a social activity in most circles. But yeah, I have to tell you all that Poker Smash for Xbox 360 is the greatest. I downloaded it yesterday and that's all we played for several hours. It takes the mechanics of Puzzle League and combines it with poker hands. So, not only can you eliminate similar face cards, you can also make poker hands which are worth more points. Anyways, it's fucking amazing and you should totally download it if you have an Xbox 360 and a Live account.
The best thing since intercourse was invented.
Looks good, huh? We'll see how long these last before Paul Walker and/or Vin Diesel come by and jack them.
Time to play some more Poker Smash, kids. Download it. Seriously.
Even though I spent the past two-and-a-half days being anti-social, I had a good time. I should should address, though, that being anti-social means not going out and drinking. I've decided to attempt being healthy in the days leading up to my trip. You know, not eat junk food, avoid the beer, exercise and all that bullshit. So far it hasn't been very difficult, but I doubt that it's making any real difference. In a little over a month I'll be one of the countless flabby, untanned, mainlander tourists at the beach. Score!
I suppose I was social on Saturday night, although I am not sure if people coming over to your apartment and playing videogames all night counts as a social activity in most circles. But yeah, I have to tell you all that Poker Smash for Xbox 360 is the greatest. I downloaded it yesterday and that's all we played for several hours. It takes the mechanics of Puzzle League and combines it with poker hands. So, not only can you eliminate similar face cards, you can also make poker hands which are worth more points. Anyways, it's fucking amazing and you should totally download it if you have an Xbox 360 and a Live account.
The best thing since intercourse was invented.I felt especially manly today. Spending six hours with my dad, the manliest of all men, tends to do that to me. It was fun, though. We ate BBQ, talked about what a pussy Tom Brady is, and wait for it--worked on my car. See! That's some manly shit, right there.
I didn't mention it, but a couple of months ago some douche bags stole the sidemarker lights from my car. I got over it pretty quick, seeing as I realized at a very young age just how terrible most people are. Some could say finding that out when you're little would make you jaded, but for me it helps me cope with situations like this. But yeah, I even have an idea as to who did it . . .
I'm sure it was one of these assholes.
Anyways, we went to several car parts stores before we finally got the parts that we needed. It was pretty fucking cool, because instead of just standing there while my pops does everything, I actually felt useful today. I found the wires we needed and even got some grease on my hands. Here's some before and afters of our handy work:
I didn't mention it, but a couple of months ago some douche bags stole the sidemarker lights from my car. I got over it pretty quick, seeing as I realized at a very young age just how terrible most people are. Some could say finding that out when you're little would make you jaded, but for me it helps me cope with situations like this. But yeah, I even have an idea as to who did it . . .
I'm sure it was one of these assholes.Anyways, we went to several car parts stores before we finally got the parts that we needed. It was pretty fucking cool, because instead of just standing there while my pops does everything, I actually felt useful today. I found the wires we needed and even got some grease on my hands. Here's some before and afters of our handy work:
Time to play some more Poker Smash, kids. Download it. Seriously.
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