I woke up this morning to find my cat peeing on me. She's nineteen, and was angry that I hadn't woken up to feed her, despite her howling in my ear. She probably thinks I got off light.
Old pets are just crushing heartbreaks to come. I lost my beloved Badger last November: she was 15, and spent the last year of her life in a slow, but inevitable, decline. And I know any day for my old girl could be her last.
So I adore her every day. Even days that begin with me getting a golden shower of vengeance.
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Friday, June 24, 2005
Almost Caved
I did.
I almost bought Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas.
My beloved wife has sworn she will serve me my balls on a flaming spear if I make this purchase. Not because she's some stuck up Conservative voting holier than thou finger waver. In fact, she is more versed in violence and them thar cuss words than I am. No, her unholy vengeance will be set upon my small frame should my debit card bestow upon me this electronic diversion for this reason, and this reason alone:
Because I haven't gotten off my ass and finished Grand Theft Auto or GTA: Vice City.
In the former case, I am now working for the lesbian Asian crime boss, and did manage to rub out the paparazzi who took revealing photos of her and her lover. Mess with me, you'll be sleeping with the fishes, fucker. In Vice City, the last thing I managed to pull off was whacking some poor mob dude at a funeral. I totally blow at the boat chase sequence--but I lay some of the blame for my inepitude at the feet of Rockstar. Controls, my friends, CONTROLS! Hopefully they can see the blame beneath that pile of money they're standing on.
Like books, whenever I see games, I want them. I saw Pikmin tonight for $24 and nearly grabbed it. If Red Neck Fishing and Fisting was on sale for under twenty bucks, I'd probably consider adding that to my library too. I'm an addict. I keep game companies in dividends while I only have two pairs of pants to my name.
I think Nintendo should adopt me. It's the least they can do. They should take responsibility for all their children.
I almost bought Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas.
My beloved wife has sworn she will serve me my balls on a flaming spear if I make this purchase. Not because she's some stuck up Conservative voting holier than thou finger waver. In fact, she is more versed in violence and them thar cuss words than I am. No, her unholy vengeance will be set upon my small frame should my debit card bestow upon me this electronic diversion for this reason, and this reason alone:
Because I haven't gotten off my ass and finished Grand Theft Auto or GTA: Vice City.
In the former case, I am now working for the lesbian Asian crime boss, and did manage to rub out the paparazzi who took revealing photos of her and her lover. Mess with me, you'll be sleeping with the fishes, fucker. In Vice City, the last thing I managed to pull off was whacking some poor mob dude at a funeral. I totally blow at the boat chase sequence--but I lay some of the blame for my inepitude at the feet of Rockstar. Controls, my friends, CONTROLS! Hopefully they can see the blame beneath that pile of money they're standing on.
Like books, whenever I see games, I want them. I saw Pikmin tonight for $24 and nearly grabbed it. If Red Neck Fishing and Fisting was on sale for under twenty bucks, I'd probably consider adding that to my library too. I'm an addict. I keep game companies in dividends while I only have two pairs of pants to my name.
I think Nintendo should adopt me. It's the least they can do. They should take responsibility for all their children.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Vortexed!
Okay, time is fleeting. The last few days have time vortexed me into nothing but work, work, and then there's work just to mix things up.
But still, I have this to say:
Even though I'm eternally heterosexual, I would still go out on a date with Captain Jack.
Even though I'm a little behind on all things Infinite Crisis, I've been taken instead with reading
Shonen Jump. Even though I thought my brain would dribble out my brains when the day dawned that I said this, I actually think reading Yi-Gi-Oh is a blast. Naruto, a manga about wire-fu ninjas taking exams to become full fledged shinobi, is my favourite. Even the irritating One Piece had me from the pirate chefs.
Even though my Eberron campaign starts in three days. I still haven't finished it. Okay, I haven't even started it. Players are sending me character sheets, and I don't even know what part of Eberron this little timewaster is taking place in. Bugger. Bugger.
Even though I'm twice her age, I think Billie Piper is the perfect woman for television: she's not afraid to be photgraphed with her hair mussed up and with a few visible skin blemishes. She is a normal weight for a healthy woman--she's not a Romero bonerack. And her smile could melt steel.
But still, I have this to say:
Even though I'm eternally heterosexual, I would still go out on a date with Captain Jack.
Even though I'm a little behind on all things Infinite Crisis, I've been taken instead with reading
Shonen Jump. Even though I thought my brain would dribble out my brains when the day dawned that I said this, I actually think reading Yi-Gi-Oh is a blast. Naruto, a manga about wire-fu ninjas taking exams to become full fledged shinobi, is my favourite. Even the irritating One Piece had me from the pirate chefs.
Even though my Eberron campaign starts in three days. I still haven't finished it. Okay, I haven't even started it. Players are sending me character sheets, and I don't even know what part of Eberron this little timewaster is taking place in. Bugger. Bugger.
Even though I'm twice her age, I think Billie Piper is the perfect woman for television: she's not afraid to be photgraphed with her hair mussed up and with a few visible skin blemishes. She is a normal weight for a healthy woman--she's not a Romero bonerack. And her smile could melt steel.
Monday, June 20, 2005
Return to Geek World
Once more back into the dicebag...
I'm starting another Dungeons and Dragons campaign. I ran the epic--and not terribly well constructed-- Return To The Temple Of Elemental Evil for about two years. That ended when the entire party bought the proverbial agricultural real estate when trying to take down a red dragon. These things happen. I had them resurrected by a group of hardcore Pelorians, who politely asked them to become a strike force for the church. The campaign died there, a casualty of conflicting work schedules and life.
So I've decided to launch again, with Age of Worms. I'm setting it in the world of Eberron, because I've been itching--okay, not really itching, but interested in--seeing how a game works in a world with a tech/magic mix. The first adventure, The Whispering Cairn, looks like one of the better written adventures I've seen in awhile. A little too hard on first level noobs ( I've read reports of HPKs--half party kills--online. I'm not surprised.), but it rises quite admirably over the usual first level runaround of goblins and kobolds.
Spent the weekend reading up on the adventure, and reacquainting myself with Eberron. Watched The Big Lebowski while reading about necromancers and evil statuary. Good times.
I'm starting another Dungeons and Dragons campaign. I ran the epic--and not terribly well constructed-- Return To The Temple Of Elemental Evil for about two years. That ended when the entire party bought the proverbial agricultural real estate when trying to take down a red dragon. These things happen. I had them resurrected by a group of hardcore Pelorians, who politely asked them to become a strike force for the church. The campaign died there, a casualty of conflicting work schedules and life.
So I've decided to launch again, with Age of Worms. I'm setting it in the world of Eberron, because I've been itching--okay, not really itching, but interested in--seeing how a game works in a world with a tech/magic mix. The first adventure, The Whispering Cairn, looks like one of the better written adventures I've seen in awhile. A little too hard on first level noobs ( I've read reports of HPKs--half party kills--online. I'm not surprised.), but it rises quite admirably over the usual first level runaround of goblins and kobolds.
Spent the weekend reading up on the adventure, and reacquainting myself with Eberron. Watched The Big Lebowski while reading about necromancers and evil statuary. Good times.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Katie and Time
Okay, I've reached the retching point where it comes to Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. No, wait. I mean the Fucking Creeped Out point.
Must think sweeter thoughts. Must think of....what? Finishing Star Wars: Battle Surgeons before I wither and die? Of returning and actually finishing up Fable? Of weaning myself off American comics and only reading Shonen Jump? Of being all excited because Doctor Who has been greenlit for a third season? Such sweet, sweet thoughts.
It's late. I will not game this day. And I am sad.
Weep for me. But not too hard, because I won a trophy in Burnout last night. And you can't touch it because it's mine all mine....
Hope to see Batman Begins this weekend. Let the morons take their brain dead girlfriends Friday--I'll go Sunday when the true fans go.
Must think sweeter thoughts. Must think of....what? Finishing Star Wars: Battle Surgeons before I wither and die? Of returning and actually finishing up Fable? Of weaning myself off American comics and only reading Shonen Jump? Of being all excited because Doctor Who has been greenlit for a third season? Such sweet, sweet thoughts.
It's late. I will not game this day. And I am sad.
Weep for me. But not too hard, because I won a trophy in Burnout last night. And you can't touch it because it's mine all mine....
Hope to see Batman Begins this weekend. Let the morons take their brain dead girlfriends Friday--I'll go Sunday when the true fans go.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Why Oh Why?
Why oh why did I order the Dungeon Master's Guide II? I have more gaming manuals, magazines and crap that I haven't made my way through yet-and I order more? No wonder I'm so fucking broke.
Argh. It keeps hitting me I'll never read everything I want, let alone all the books on my shelves. I'm like the lonely woman who lives alone and keeps buying stuffed bears. Soon, her house is filled with them, and she has to make paths between piles of little bears wearing firemen outfits, or golfing hats, or pretending to fish into imaginary ponds. Then she sits alone, and cries.
That's me. Except it's comics and books. They'll find my dessicated corpse resting on a pile of Lensmen novels, clutching the Player's Manual to my sunken chest.
Just place my d20s on my eyes, and bury me with my reading glasses.
Argh. It keeps hitting me I'll never read everything I want, let alone all the books on my shelves. I'm like the lonely woman who lives alone and keeps buying stuffed bears. Soon, her house is filled with them, and she has to make paths between piles of little bears wearing firemen outfits, or golfing hats, or pretending to fish into imaginary ponds. Then she sits alone, and cries.
That's me. Except it's comics and books. They'll find my dessicated corpse resting on a pile of Lensmen novels, clutching the Player's Manual to my sunken chest.
Just place my d20s on my eyes, and bury me with my reading glasses.
Saturday, June 11, 2005
I Really Should Be Writing....
...I'm going to be forty soon, with no novel written. I'm going to end up one of those miserable men who wander around bookstores, shouting at hardcovers, screaming that my ideas were stolen and that I never got a chance to be a coddled Canadian writer because I goddamn well worked for a living, ya bastards, no gumment grant for me! While you sunzabitches laid around, listenin' to the CBC and writin' yer fuckin' stories about incestous Maritimers and unhappy wives confronting the fact they shoulda nailed the milkman fifty years ago soze they coulda known true love, I was earnin' a living wage, comin' home tired as fuck with only enough strength to play Mario Sunshine. It ain't fucking fair, ya bastiches. Argh....
And then I'll piss myself before staggering out to the parking lot. Where I'll be hit by a SUV driven by a real estate agent on a cellphone.
I do have notes for the novel. I will write it, and will proudly see it placed on a remainder table. These are my dreams.
Read New Scientist this morning. Am I the only one who wants to ride a skateboard down a particle acclerator? No, I think not. And I love reading how the British think it might be a good idea to burn some of the graphite surrounding their nuclear reactors, instead of burying it instead. Yeah, clouds of carbon 14 radiation floating in the atmosphere can only be a good thing.
I remember taking a train up to York, and seeing this gray, ghastly reactor leering on the horizon. And it was so depressingly British: bleak landscape, everyone sullen on the train, and this hulking ticking radioactive bomb passing by outside the window. And I thought: This is the true England. It isn't Enid Blyton, or Tolkien. It's this quiet moment of despair, with brutal ugliness all around.
But then I got to York, and fell in love with the place. Saw my friend Anne Marie drink absinthe, walked the walls, got drunk myself in the Evil Eye. I adored York.
And in those few days, I adored England again.
Right. Must write.
And then I'll piss myself before staggering out to the parking lot. Where I'll be hit by a SUV driven by a real estate agent on a cellphone.
I do have notes for the novel. I will write it, and will proudly see it placed on a remainder table. These are my dreams.
Read New Scientist this morning. Am I the only one who wants to ride a skateboard down a particle acclerator? No, I think not. And I love reading how the British think it might be a good idea to burn some of the graphite surrounding their nuclear reactors, instead of burying it instead. Yeah, clouds of carbon 14 radiation floating in the atmosphere can only be a good thing.
I remember taking a train up to York, and seeing this gray, ghastly reactor leering on the horizon. And it was so depressingly British: bleak landscape, everyone sullen on the train, and this hulking ticking radioactive bomb passing by outside the window. And I thought: This is the true England. It isn't Enid Blyton, or Tolkien. It's this quiet moment of despair, with brutal ugliness all around.
But then I got to York, and fell in love with the place. Saw my friend Anne Marie drink absinthe, walked the walls, got drunk myself in the Evil Eye. I adored York.
And in those few days, I adored England again.
Right. Must write.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Comics, Beetles, and Terzo
Catharsis, thine name is Burnout Three.
Just finished reading Countdown To Infinite Crisis, and I'm of two minds. I really liked the character of Blue Beetle. And while I generally prefer DC Comics over Marvel these days (primarily because Marvel to me seems very seat of the pants, with next to no real editorial planning, and no real sense of direction other than accumulating as much profit as quickly as possible, whereas DC does seem to sit down and plan events out, they are not as late with books as much as Marvel is, and there just seems to be a higher degree of professionalism on display), I do take some issue with their decisions:
Example: why does every single major event at DC have to have a bodycount?
It's a cheap road to drama. It gives an illusory weight to story, but usually at the cost of a character. Back with Crisis on Infinite Earths, the major loss there was Supergirl. In last year's Identity Crisis, we lost Captain Boomerang, Jack Drake, and Sue Dibny. In War Games, we lost Spoiler--still one of DC's stupidest decisions.
It just gets old. Whenever DC announces the NEXT BIG THING, break out the body bags. Still, having said that, I did enjoy Countdown. The Omac Project also was a half decent read, even if the first issue read a bit too quickly. What can I say? I've been reading DC Comics since I was four. I'll always show up for anything they do, but damned if I won't bitch.
And Venus Terzo should play Wonder Woman, because she's hot. So there.
Just finished reading Countdown To Infinite Crisis, and I'm of two minds. I really liked the character of Blue Beetle. And while I generally prefer DC Comics over Marvel these days (primarily because Marvel to me seems very seat of the pants, with next to no real editorial planning, and no real sense of direction other than accumulating as much profit as quickly as possible, whereas DC does seem to sit down and plan events out, they are not as late with books as much as Marvel is, and there just seems to be a higher degree of professionalism on display), I do take some issue with their decisions:
Example: why does every single major event at DC have to have a bodycount?
It's a cheap road to drama. It gives an illusory weight to story, but usually at the cost of a character. Back with Crisis on Infinite Earths, the major loss there was Supergirl. In last year's Identity Crisis, we lost Captain Boomerang, Jack Drake, and Sue Dibny. In War Games, we lost Spoiler--still one of DC's stupidest decisions.
It just gets old. Whenever DC announces the NEXT BIG THING, break out the body bags. Still, having said that, I did enjoy Countdown. The Omac Project also was a half decent read, even if the first issue read a bit too quickly. What can I say? I've been reading DC Comics since I was four. I'll always show up for anything they do, but damned if I won't bitch.
And Venus Terzo should play Wonder Woman, because she's hot. So there.
Monday, June 06, 2005
Krypton Creek
Everyone I know assumes that I love Smallville. I assume it's because I am a Superman fan, and have statues, mounted paintings, and more comics than anyone needs about my favourite Kryptonian. But I'm still very undecided about Smallville.
I've watched a handful of episodes. Sometimes, I think the writing is very clever, but then there'll be six or seven scenes that I assume could have only been written by monkeys. The show seems to be cross between Dawson's Creek and a very gentle version of Twin Peaks. Like Buffy The Vampire Slayer, no one seems terribly concerned about the high bodycount that seems to spring up in a very small town. The nods towards what we know of Superman's mythology seem forced. And since we all know that Clark ends up with Lois, the romance with Lana is just a creative dead end.
The best I can say about Smallville is that it is smarter than I expected it to be, and the actors are all very good, especially Michael Rosenbaum as Luthor. There are much worse shows on television. Which isn't the faint praise it sounds like.
I am very happy with Justice League Unlimited, though. Any show that has Booster Gold on it will always have my heart.
I've watched a handful of episodes. Sometimes, I think the writing is very clever, but then there'll be six or seven scenes that I assume could have only been written by monkeys. The show seems to be cross between Dawson's Creek and a very gentle version of Twin Peaks. Like Buffy The Vampire Slayer, no one seems terribly concerned about the high bodycount that seems to spring up in a very small town. The nods towards what we know of Superman's mythology seem forced. And since we all know that Clark ends up with Lois, the romance with Lana is just a creative dead end.
The best I can say about Smallville is that it is smarter than I expected it to be, and the actors are all very good, especially Michael Rosenbaum as Luthor. There are much worse shows on television. Which isn't the faint praise it sounds like.
I am very happy with Justice League Unlimited, though. Any show that has Booster Gold on it will always have my heart.
Saturday, June 04, 2005
Am I Losing It?
I used to think I had it. Now I'm not so sure.
I thought I was the man when I beat Resident Evil 4. I thought the world would fall at my feet when I lay down my guns, victorious, in HALO 2.
But I was wrong. You see, I was playing those games on the Normal setting. I'm currently trying to play HALO 2 on 'Heroic', and can't get off the bloody ship without getting fried by those Covenant assholes. I mean, those fuckers! Don't they know who they're dealing with? And I'm also going through Res again, all decked out in the Raccoon City threads, looking forward to seeing Ashley in that Dallas Cowgirls outfit--but I can't get past the first village. The potato sack wearing cocksucker with the chainsaw is either popping out of the ether beside me to relieve me of my head, or those unshaven self abusers are filling me with axes or pitchforks. My frustration level peaked last night when I unloaded almost two shotguns worth of Rightful Justice into above mentioned Chainsaw C-sucker--and he still got up.
Fucksakes, as my grandmother used to say.
Still, I did level up in Morrowind. The big Level 2, ladies and gentlemen. Yep, I knew one day I'd do it. Highlights thus far include racing upstairs of a merchant's house, emptying his wine cellar and his dinner plates, racing past the guard downstairs and then selling everything to his merchant buddy next door. Imagine when he walks in the next day: "Hey, there Joe, whatcha got for sale today? Eh? Hey! Those are my fucking dinner plates! And that--that! That's my wine I've been saving since that dragon took that shit on my mother in law! "
And then there will be chaos. And then I will know that my work is done.
I also escorted some woman with a face like a Buick radiator to some field. I tried to get it on with her, you know, out of pity, because she probably doesn't get a lot of hot Dunmer loving, but she accused me of being self serving. So that was that. Still, I'm Second Level now. She may put me on her Buddy list now.
I thought I was the man when I beat Resident Evil 4. I thought the world would fall at my feet when I lay down my guns, victorious, in HALO 2.
But I was wrong. You see, I was playing those games on the Normal setting. I'm currently trying to play HALO 2 on 'Heroic', and can't get off the bloody ship without getting fried by those Covenant assholes. I mean, those fuckers! Don't they know who they're dealing with? And I'm also going through Res again, all decked out in the Raccoon City threads, looking forward to seeing Ashley in that Dallas Cowgirls outfit--but I can't get past the first village. The potato sack wearing cocksucker with the chainsaw is either popping out of the ether beside me to relieve me of my head, or those unshaven self abusers are filling me with axes or pitchforks. My frustration level peaked last night when I unloaded almost two shotguns worth of Rightful Justice into above mentioned Chainsaw C-sucker--and he still got up.
Fucksakes, as my grandmother used to say.
Still, I did level up in Morrowind. The big Level 2, ladies and gentlemen. Yep, I knew one day I'd do it. Highlights thus far include racing upstairs of a merchant's house, emptying his wine cellar and his dinner plates, racing past the guard downstairs and then selling everything to his merchant buddy next door. Imagine when he walks in the next day: "Hey, there Joe, whatcha got for sale today? Eh? Hey! Those are my fucking dinner plates! And that--that! That's my wine I've been saving since that dragon took that shit on my mother in law! "
And then there will be chaos. And then I will know that my work is done.
I also escorted some woman with a face like a Buick radiator to some field. I tried to get it on with her, you know, out of pity, because she probably doesn't get a lot of hot Dunmer loving, but she accused me of being self serving. So that was that. Still, I'm Second Level now. She may put me on her Buddy list now.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Ooh, So That's Why...
...I've been finding Neverwinter Nights so difficult. I'm supposed to have henchmen.
I did make it to the third level of the prison, kicking ass and taking names, but when I ran into SPOILER and I had my own sweet elven ass handed to me on a shining platter. Well, now that I got's me some orc homies, we see who be taking the fall now, bee-yotch. And why am I speaking this way about a medieval fantasy game? Must take coffee off the I.V.
Watched The Empty Child.
Creeped the hell out of me last night. This was easily the first Doctor Who I've ever seen that seriously game me chills. No, really, it did. It was wonderfully, joyfully disturbed. The fact that we only have four more episodes fills me with the same sort of deep sadness I feel when I realize I'll never share a coffee with Carrie Fisher after a night playing Halo together. Sniff.
Cher proved once again why she is the Jedi Wife she has always been by bringing me home a copy of Warren Ellis' Desolation Jones to peruse tonight over candlelight and caffienated beverages. It is beside me as I write. There is yellow, and there are gas masks. Just like...The Empty Child!
NEEEEEEEEEEAR DUM DE DUM DE DUM DUM DUM!DUM!DUM! DUM! DUMMY DEE DUM...etc.
I did make it to the third level of the prison, kicking ass and taking names, but when I ran into SPOILER and I had my own sweet elven ass handed to me on a shining platter. Well, now that I got's me some orc homies, we see who be taking the fall now, bee-yotch. And why am I speaking this way about a medieval fantasy game? Must take coffee off the I.V.
Watched The Empty Child.
Creeped the hell out of me last night. This was easily the first Doctor Who I've ever seen that seriously game me chills. No, really, it did. It was wonderfully, joyfully disturbed. The fact that we only have four more episodes fills me with the same sort of deep sadness I feel when I realize I'll never share a coffee with Carrie Fisher after a night playing Halo together. Sniff.
Cher proved once again why she is the Jedi Wife she has always been by bringing me home a copy of Warren Ellis' Desolation Jones to peruse tonight over candlelight and caffienated beverages. It is beside me as I write. There is yellow, and there are gas masks. Just like...The Empty Child!
NEEEEEEEEEEAR DUM DE DUM DE DUM DUM DUM!DUM!DUM! DUM! DUMMY DEE DUM...etc.
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