Well, good news, all you have to do is decide to do guest strips! You all know what I'm talking about, right? You have an awesome webcomic, then if you decide to take a vacation or something, rather than simply taking a break, you get other artists to write the comic for you, using your carefully created characters, settings, and plot points. My new favorite comic (www.questionablecontent.net) is the reason I bring this up. It is basically a 100% continuity strip with incredibly well thought out characters, snappy dialogue, and fantastic plot lines. This, however, makes for a not fun time when the continuity is broken. The artist (Jeph Jacques) occasionally does panels at cons and the like and rather than taking a week long break, institutes "QC guest week". These are the bane of my existence. I hate them about as much as I hate genocide.
When you have characters that have as dynamic personalities as the cast of QC it is dangerous to ever relinquish control (even though the guest strips don't have any bearing on the current plot line) because the bottom line is that no one but the creator will be able to write them well. Instead they are demoted to 2 dimensional caricatures of what some other hack seems to think the characters should be. The strips simply devolve into nonsense as everything familiar that we know and love about it is burned to a charred husk right before our eyes and the individual comics start to look like the schlock that appears all over the internet. The vast graveyard of shitty comics that nobody reads anyway. Real Life Comics is also guilty of this from time to time, and what's worse is that the artist (Greg Dean) decides that, in an effort to reach out to his readers, he will take their submissions. This seems like a fun and inclusive idea, but ignores the crucial fact that lots of people have an IQ with a shoe size to match and no real sense of how to write, particularly anything funny. I love webcomics, but have no desire to start my own until I feel that my writing is at a good level and I have a concept that will work and grab readers. Most people recognize this, that's why we read comics instead of make them: We rely on other, better people, to be funny FOR us.
Mr. Jacques and Mr. Dean, if this ever comes to your attention I beg of you: PLEASE stop letting 2-bit "artists" mangle your creation that so many people have come to love. Penny Arcade, Least I Could Do, Control Alt Delete, and Nothing Nice To Say (as well as a host of other comics) don't do guest strips and simply choose to let the strip lie dormant until they can man the helm once more. I certainly wouldn't care if the strips had to take a week or two hiatus while your batteries recharged or you reached out to your fanbases. Nothing saddens me more than these pitiful wastes of space. If I may steal a line from Penny Arcade (originally used to describe the games Sega has released in the last decade, but just as applicable here), Guest Strips "are like the videos terrorists release. The characters you love draped in rags and humiliated." Need something shorter? "[Guest Strips] are MURDER PORN. Their legendary properties are getting fucked and murdered."
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Monday, July 23, 2007
At Least You'll Know That Warranty Was Worth It...
So now that I have finished the 7th Harry Potter book, I can finally get back to letting my life get slowly sapped away by the evil force that is my television. Specifically, my television in conjunction with video game systems of some sort. I have recently added to my somewhat sizable collection an Xbox 360. Now let me say that as far as game libraries go, the 360 has the market cornered. Hell, Gears of War and Dead Rising alone make your purchase worth it, not to mention titles like Crackdown, Call of Juarez, and the aforementioned The Darkness. Why then, with this library, am I ready to tear my damned hair out?
Well, it seems that the infinite entrepreneurial spirit at microsoft has led them to design sub-par systems (insert spooky music here). Most gamers have probably at least read about, if not experienced the 3 red lights of death. This is when three red lights around your power button light up, signaling that your CPU has just been fried beyond repair. This has been happening to approximately one in every four 360's. Why is this happening? Microsoft decided not to spend the extra 50 cents to use cooling gel that didn't harden into a heat conducting crust. No problem though, I've bought an external cooling unit, so hopefully that at least prolongs the damn thing's life span.
My gripes however, much like my balls, are twofold. Apparently, the skimping has not stopped with cooling gel. The disc trays being used are faulty as well. How do I know this? Well after owning the game for less than a week, my copy of Gears of War ceased to work, saying the disc was "unreadable". The game had been precisely two places: in its case (where it was purchased brand new), and in the system. Suddenly, after playing the game for about 10 hours in total over the span of about 5 days, it will no longer play. When the games cost up to 70$ apiece, this is about as pleasing as waking up to find my kidneys gone. Lucky me I can get the disc replaced for $20 If I send it to Microsoft. God forbid they do something like own up to their shitty workmanship and not nickel and dime me to death for something that I have absolutely no control over.
I Like my 360, really I do. It lets me play some fantastic games. But so help me god, I just know that once my warranty is up, I'll have like 6 months before I am left with a 400 dollar paperweight. Oh well, they've been having to extend the warranties so long to avoid lawsuits, maybe that day will never come. Oh right, it's Microsoft I'm dealing with...never mind.
Well, it seems that the infinite entrepreneurial spirit at microsoft has led them to design sub-par systems (insert spooky music here). Most gamers have probably at least read about, if not experienced the 3 red lights of death. This is when three red lights around your power button light up, signaling that your CPU has just been fried beyond repair. This has been happening to approximately one in every four 360's. Why is this happening? Microsoft decided not to spend the extra 50 cents to use cooling gel that didn't harden into a heat conducting crust. No problem though, I've bought an external cooling unit, so hopefully that at least prolongs the damn thing's life span.
My gripes however, much like my balls, are twofold. Apparently, the skimping has not stopped with cooling gel. The disc trays being used are faulty as well. How do I know this? Well after owning the game for less than a week, my copy of Gears of War ceased to work, saying the disc was "unreadable". The game had been precisely two places: in its case (where it was purchased brand new), and in the system. Suddenly, after playing the game for about 10 hours in total over the span of about 5 days, it will no longer play. When the games cost up to 70$ apiece, this is about as pleasing as waking up to find my kidneys gone. Lucky me I can get the disc replaced for $20 If I send it to Microsoft. God forbid they do something like own up to their shitty workmanship and not nickel and dime me to death for something that I have absolutely no control over.
I Like my 360, really I do. It lets me play some fantastic games. But so help me god, I just know that once my warranty is up, I'll have like 6 months before I am left with a 400 dollar paperweight. Oh well, they've been having to extend the warranties so long to avoid lawsuits, maybe that day will never come. Oh right, it's Microsoft I'm dealing with...never mind.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
My Thoughts on "The Darkness"
So, thanks to the people at gamestop, I've been a subscriber to Game Informer for the last year (their discount card used to be 5$, now it's 20 with a mandatory G.I. subscription). This means, however, that I'm actually paying attention to games that come out. For some reason, I've never been able to get hooked on checking out joystiq or IGN or any of those sites. Too much pointless garbage with actual news hidden in the cracks. Anyway, this magazine is how I heard of The Darkness, a game I probably wouldn't have taken much note of otherwise. While I was out a couple nights ago, I decided to indulge myself and pick it up, figuring that it got awesome reviews and looked sick as hell from the screenshots. Although I must say, now that I have acquired a 360, impulse buying games is just getting more and more expensive. Soon I will have to file for credit checks before I can make these kinds of purchases.
Anyway, the game is pretty fucking awesome. You're a mobster named Jackie who gets double crossed and starts on a quest for revenge. Sounds pretty standard really, nothing the grand theft auto franchise hasn't done before. The twist is that you get taken over by a force called the darkness and granted the ability to rip off people's faces and eat their hearts. I have yet to get sick of simply doing that over and over. I mean, they give you guns, but I just don't understand why anyone would ever want to use some lame ass pistols when they can just as easily summon a demon from the ground to maul the motherfuckers shooting at you. Man, imagine if you could do THAT in the grand theft auto series...
Anyway, the game plays pretty nicely, but there are some flaws. Your HUD is confusing and nigh uninterpretable at times. You have no idea what your health is, ever. You have a store of "dark energy" but no way of seeing how much of it you have because there is no meter. You can get a vague sense of how much ammo you have, but for some reason they could not bother to give you an exact count. The other main flaw is the circumstances under how you use your powers. You can activate them at anytime, provided you are standing in the dark. Given that you are inside or on city streets the majority of the game, this means that you spend a goodly amount of time CREATING darkness so you can commence with the face ripping/heart eating. The game should have been titled The Darkness: We hope you like shooting out lights. I think the only reason guns are even IN the game is so that you have something to shoot out the millions of lights in each environment.
Still though, in spite of these annoyances, the plot is great, the darkness abilities are imaginative, and the characters (though poorly voiced at times) are pretty gritty and make for fun vessels through which the story is conveyed. Also, there's a fun bit for any music nerds because the voice of "the darkness" (the evil force running through your character) is none other than Mike Patton of Mr. Bungle, Faith No More, Fantomas, and one collaboration with The Dillinger Escape Plan. I really want the demonic voice to tell me that something is "so groovy it's out of sight" or that I want it all, but in fact, cannot have it. If I had to quantify my enjoyment here, I would say 7/10. Worth the 65$ impulse buy? Hard to say. It might have been nice if the price had dropped a little, but hey, you can't always get what you want. I'm gonna go devour some hearts now.
Anyway, the game is pretty fucking awesome. You're a mobster named Jackie who gets double crossed and starts on a quest for revenge. Sounds pretty standard really, nothing the grand theft auto franchise hasn't done before. The twist is that you get taken over by a force called the darkness and granted the ability to rip off people's faces and eat their hearts. I have yet to get sick of simply doing that over and over. I mean, they give you guns, but I just don't understand why anyone would ever want to use some lame ass pistols when they can just as easily summon a demon from the ground to maul the motherfuckers shooting at you. Man, imagine if you could do THAT in the grand theft auto series...
Anyway, the game plays pretty nicely, but there are some flaws. Your HUD is confusing and nigh uninterpretable at times. You have no idea what your health is, ever. You have a store of "dark energy" but no way of seeing how much of it you have because there is no meter. You can get a vague sense of how much ammo you have, but for some reason they could not bother to give you an exact count. The other main flaw is the circumstances under how you use your powers. You can activate them at anytime, provided you are standing in the dark. Given that you are inside or on city streets the majority of the game, this means that you spend a goodly amount of time CREATING darkness so you can commence with the face ripping/heart eating. The game should have been titled The Darkness: We hope you like shooting out lights. I think the only reason guns are even IN the game is so that you have something to shoot out the millions of lights in each environment.
Still though, in spite of these annoyances, the plot is great, the darkness abilities are imaginative, and the characters (though poorly voiced at times) are pretty gritty and make for fun vessels through which the story is conveyed. Also, there's a fun bit for any music nerds because the voice of "the darkness" (the evil force running through your character) is none other than Mike Patton of Mr. Bungle, Faith No More, Fantomas, and one collaboration with The Dillinger Escape Plan. I really want the demonic voice to tell me that something is "so groovy it's out of sight" or that I want it all, but in fact, cannot have it. If I had to quantify my enjoyment here, I would say 7/10. Worth the 65$ impulse buy? Hard to say. It might have been nice if the price had dropped a little, but hey, you can't always get what you want. I'm gonna go devour some hearts now.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
The Beginning of the End
So, I've come to a genuinely terrifying realization: The metal scene has been in a state of horrible stagnation for years, and I have simply failed to notice. It all makes a horrifying kind of sense though, like this illusion spanning many years has just come crashing down like Michael Jackson dropping a baby off a balcony (too soon?). My realization has been cued by a few key events, which I shall lay out thusly:
1) Press. I doubt too many people read that many metal rags like Revolver or Hit Parader, but I've read them for a few years now. I picked one up for trashy airplane reading the other day and about halfway through it hit me: every interview is exactly the same. Regardless of the artist, they always have some new album coming out and they talk about how amazing it is and how they really poured a lot of themselves into it and it's the most personal thing they've done to date. Think about it. Isn't that EVERY interview with a musician you've ever read? Then you actually listen to the album and realize it sounds like everything else they've released. Look at Lamb of God's "Sacrament" or Shadows Falls' "Threads of Life". They sound almost exactly like the albums before them, yet somehow right now they are "unique". I just downloaded Devildriver's new album, "The Last Kind Words" and while I find it quite enjoyable, it basically sounds like "The Fury of our Maker's Hand" (its predecessor). The fact that these artists seem to view this as change is frightening though, because it means that the scene isn't going to evolve. And what happens to things that don't evolve (with the exception of the troglodyte that became president)? THEY DIE!
2) Artists that try to change just fuck everything up. I had some prime examples this summer when Marilyn Manson and Linkin Park both released new albums (yes, I liked Linkin Park back in the day, and I still like most of Manson's old stuff even if he is just trying too hard). Like other artists on the scene, they said that their stuff was "radically different". I wasn't too worried, I'd heard that line before and usually I was a fan of the results. Manson's new one had one good song. ONE. LP have an album that has some ok tracks, but after about any given 3, I get bored and change albums. So when the artists are trying to evolve, they're not even picking up on which traits to take with them, they just do artsy bullshit without realizing that metal is not an artsy crowd. And yes, i know calling Linking Park metal is like calling Slayer soft rock, but bear with me here. After all, nu-metal still has "metal" in it.
3) Bottom line, I just haven't been listening to newer metal that much. My latest acquisitions tend to be garage rock from Allison or Japanese Rock from Mike and Ryan. Hell, my favorite CD's I've gotten all summer were Bad Religion and Smashing Pumpkins (the latter is kinda metal, but kinda moreso grunge, so I don't count it fully). I figure I've got a hefty collection of awesome metal, but why keep paying for the same damned album over and over again? What's distressing is that this really only seems to be happening in the metal scene. SoCal punk has taken a really favorable turn lately, the more indie rock I listen to, the more diverse it seems, and what with having gotten into J-Rock last year, I now have an entire other country's scene and evolution to explore.
I really don't want to be the guy on the street corner trumpeting that the end is near, calling out the harlots, blaming the guv'ment for lack or morality etc....and say that metal is dying, but look at it rationally: Do we have a Led Zeppelin or Iron Maiden from our generation? Fuck, we don't even have a Poison or a Warrant. In 20 years, is anyone even going to remember this scene?
1) Press. I doubt too many people read that many metal rags like Revolver or Hit Parader, but I've read them for a few years now. I picked one up for trashy airplane reading the other day and about halfway through it hit me: every interview is exactly the same. Regardless of the artist, they always have some new album coming out and they talk about how amazing it is and how they really poured a lot of themselves into it and it's the most personal thing they've done to date. Think about it. Isn't that EVERY interview with a musician you've ever read? Then you actually listen to the album and realize it sounds like everything else they've released. Look at Lamb of God's "Sacrament" or Shadows Falls' "Threads of Life". They sound almost exactly like the albums before them, yet somehow right now they are "unique". I just downloaded Devildriver's new album, "The Last Kind Words" and while I find it quite enjoyable, it basically sounds like "The Fury of our Maker's Hand" (its predecessor). The fact that these artists seem to view this as change is frightening though, because it means that the scene isn't going to evolve. And what happens to things that don't evolve (with the exception of the troglodyte that became president)? THEY DIE!
2) Artists that try to change just fuck everything up. I had some prime examples this summer when Marilyn Manson and Linkin Park both released new albums (yes, I liked Linkin Park back in the day, and I still like most of Manson's old stuff even if he is just trying too hard). Like other artists on the scene, they said that their stuff was "radically different". I wasn't too worried, I'd heard that line before and usually I was a fan of the results. Manson's new one had one good song. ONE. LP have an album that has some ok tracks, but after about any given 3, I get bored and change albums. So when the artists are trying to evolve, they're not even picking up on which traits to take with them, they just do artsy bullshit without realizing that metal is not an artsy crowd. And yes, i know calling Linking Park metal is like calling Slayer soft rock, but bear with me here. After all, nu-metal still has "metal" in it.
3) Bottom line, I just haven't been listening to newer metal that much. My latest acquisitions tend to be garage rock from Allison or Japanese Rock from Mike and Ryan. Hell, my favorite CD's I've gotten all summer were Bad Religion and Smashing Pumpkins (the latter is kinda metal, but kinda moreso grunge, so I don't count it fully). I figure I've got a hefty collection of awesome metal, but why keep paying for the same damned album over and over again? What's distressing is that this really only seems to be happening in the metal scene. SoCal punk has taken a really favorable turn lately, the more indie rock I listen to, the more diverse it seems, and what with having gotten into J-Rock last year, I now have an entire other country's scene and evolution to explore.
I really don't want to be the guy on the street corner trumpeting that the end is near, calling out the harlots, blaming the guv'ment for lack or morality etc....and say that metal is dying, but look at it rationally: Do we have a Led Zeppelin or Iron Maiden from our generation? Fuck, we don't even have a Poison or a Warrant. In 20 years, is anyone even going to remember this scene?
Monday, July 16, 2007
The Maryland Chronicles
So I decided that this whole thing needs more than a paltry introduction. To the meat of the matter, say I! So recently (as in a few hours ago) I returned from a trip to Maryland. The purpose of this visit: see my friends Megan, Ryan, and Beast, visit the lovely ms. Allison Levin (the woman not ashamed to be associated with me for the time being), meet said lovely girl's parents, avoid castration by her father. So, without further ado, here is the breakdown:
Monday (7/9): I get in to Maryland at like 2 in the afternoon. Several empires both rise and fall while I wait for my bag. I rue that not all airports are as efficient as DIA. Seriously, as much as Colorado sucks a major dick, DIA is far and away the best airport I've ever gone to, in spite of its lack of a starbucks. Anyway, my buddy Ryan is waiting for me in a jeep covered in bat shit, and we head off to his house. Allison meets us at Ryan's house, we watch Ryan teach kids how to jump into water with style for a couple hours, then convene with Megan and Mike and get some of the most spectacular pizza I have ever imbibed. Like an angel coming in my mouth. Anyway, we go back to Ryan's and get his HD projection tv going and get our guitar hero on. I quickly realize how long it has been since I have played this game. The fact that I have recently helped kill a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of vodka probably isn't helping. Anyway, we all turn in eventually, Allison and I crash in what might be the hottest room in Ryan's house for a night of questionable sleep.
Tuesday (7/10): Allison and I awake to an empty house. Taking pity on me, she takes me to her house a day earlier than anticipated. We catch up on sleep (Ryan's house, while a nice house, did not have the greatest sleeping arrangements), then spend pretty much the rest of the day running errands for her family. I meet the parents, her mom is a very nice woman, and her dad is a frightening man. As the boyfriend, it's always good to have a healthy fear of the father. It doesn't help when his first experience of you is the time you accidentally called their house line drunk at 3 in the morning thinking it was his daughter's cell phone. Still, I think I managed to at least reset the man to "neutral" towards me, so that's a plus... We get gelato with some of her friends later that night, they are very nice people. Megan's friend Colleen spends over an hour talking about her boyfriend. Allison and I listen patiently and leave as soon as we get an opportunity. I can only listen to stories about how huge some dude i don't know's dick is for so long.
Wednesday (7/11): Allison managed to score me a gig helping her merch a show for Nickelback, Staind, and Daughtry. I hate all of them (well, there are a few staind songs I like, but other than that, hatred), but basically I get paid to hang out with my girlfriend all day. Anyway, I could merch shows as a damn profession. You're under no obligation to be friendly or treat people well, so if they're dicks, you can be a dick right back. Prime example: A guy walks up to me, asks me to throw away a crumpled bag he has in his pocket. There is a trashcan 10 feet to my left easily accessible to all patrons. I looked at the bag, looked at him and said "I'm not your trash service sir". He's pissed, but his kids want to buy shirts and the other merch folk are busy, so he's stuck with me. I sell him the shirts and as he hands me his card he goes "real helpful with the trash there. great customer service". I smiled, took his card and said "your trash disposal is not my fucking job." I've never seen a man sign a receipt so angrily. POWER TRIP!!! Anyway, idiots listen to Nickelback. Over 50% of the people I sold to did not know their t-shirt sizes. WHO THE FUCK DOES NOT KNOW THEIR T-SHIRT SIZE? Other people would look at the display, which consisted of nothing but t-shirts and sweatshirts and ask "do y'all have tank tops?" Do you fucking SEE any tank tops, asshole? No, we have a secret stash only available to shrewd individuals such as yourself. Idiots. Anyway, show ended, went back to Allison's to crash.
Thursday (7/12): Allison had work most of the day, so I spent the day in Towson with Megan perusing shops and such. We went to see the new Harry Potter movie that night once Allison was off work. Kind of disappointing, but I didn't shit myself with rage or anything. We try to make plans for later that night, but nothing works out. Allison, Megan, and I return to Allison's house and make delicious lava cakes (chocolate cakes with liquid chocolate centers). I O.D. on cake batter. In spite of the sugar high, eventually Allison and I crash.
Friday (7/13): Friday the 13th- OOOOOOO! Allison tries an experiment where I wear her pants as we had originally intended to go to some indie dance club. The plans fell through, and there is no evidence of me in the pants, but they fit disturbingly well. More room for my junk than I would have thought... Anyway, the plan to go to the club falls through, but we go to an Orioles game with some of Allison's friends, followed by a visit to a dive bar with the most erratic pricing ever. I got taxed for not having boobs as well as probably being very obviously under age (let's face it, I'm 19 and goddamn look it). Still, my liver had been getting complacent since I got back from NYU and I needed to make that fucker earn his keep.
Saturday (7/14): Same routine as most of the beginnings of the days. Lounge around at Allison's, go out at night. We go to Georgetown with Megan to meet Beast and go to a hookah bar. This place was probably the hottest location in Georgetown. Not stylistically. I mean that this is a place full of burning and smoking hookahs and NO AIR CONDITIONING. And terrible service. We tipped like 8%.
Sunday (7/15): Same morning routine as usual. That night we go with Megan, Molly, and Rachel Ellis to a roller derby bout. This is basically a mosh pit on roller skates with a scoring system. Fun for a while, but it kind of turns into a nascar event after a certain point: people turning left ad nauseum. We then go to an artsy diner called paper moon, which must be a hipster's paradise. Lots of kitchy shit on the walls and a vaguely pretentious air to all of the staff. Still, they make a fine grilled cheese.
Monday (7/16): I meet Allison at her internship at city paper (she's a fact checker there) and head to the airport. Leaving sucks. I miss everyone again. Still, good times, and I go back to New York in a little over a month. This was a lengthy post for a first real one. Kudos if you made it all the way through... I'll update if I have something relevant to say.
Monday (7/9): I get in to Maryland at like 2 in the afternoon. Several empires both rise and fall while I wait for my bag. I rue that not all airports are as efficient as DIA. Seriously, as much as Colorado sucks a major dick, DIA is far and away the best airport I've ever gone to, in spite of its lack of a starbucks. Anyway, my buddy Ryan is waiting for me in a jeep covered in bat shit, and we head off to his house. Allison meets us at Ryan's house, we watch Ryan teach kids how to jump into water with style for a couple hours, then convene with Megan and Mike and get some of the most spectacular pizza I have ever imbibed. Like an angel coming in my mouth. Anyway, we go back to Ryan's and get his HD projection tv going and get our guitar hero on. I quickly realize how long it has been since I have played this game. The fact that I have recently helped kill a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of vodka probably isn't helping. Anyway, we all turn in eventually, Allison and I crash in what might be the hottest room in Ryan's house for a night of questionable sleep.
Tuesday (7/10): Allison and I awake to an empty house. Taking pity on me, she takes me to her house a day earlier than anticipated. We catch up on sleep (Ryan's house, while a nice house, did not have the greatest sleeping arrangements), then spend pretty much the rest of the day running errands for her family. I meet the parents, her mom is a very nice woman, and her dad is a frightening man. As the boyfriend, it's always good to have a healthy fear of the father. It doesn't help when his first experience of you is the time you accidentally called their house line drunk at 3 in the morning thinking it was his daughter's cell phone. Still, I think I managed to at least reset the man to "neutral" towards me, so that's a plus... We get gelato with some of her friends later that night, they are very nice people. Megan's friend Colleen spends over an hour talking about her boyfriend. Allison and I listen patiently and leave as soon as we get an opportunity. I can only listen to stories about how huge some dude i don't know's dick is for so long.
Wednesday (7/11): Allison managed to score me a gig helping her merch a show for Nickelback, Staind, and Daughtry. I hate all of them (well, there are a few staind songs I like, but other than that, hatred), but basically I get paid to hang out with my girlfriend all day. Anyway, I could merch shows as a damn profession. You're under no obligation to be friendly or treat people well, so if they're dicks, you can be a dick right back. Prime example: A guy walks up to me, asks me to throw away a crumpled bag he has in his pocket. There is a trashcan 10 feet to my left easily accessible to all patrons. I looked at the bag, looked at him and said "I'm not your trash service sir". He's pissed, but his kids want to buy shirts and the other merch folk are busy, so he's stuck with me. I sell him the shirts and as he hands me his card he goes "real helpful with the trash there. great customer service". I smiled, took his card and said "your trash disposal is not my fucking job." I've never seen a man sign a receipt so angrily. POWER TRIP!!! Anyway, idiots listen to Nickelback. Over 50% of the people I sold to did not know their t-shirt sizes. WHO THE FUCK DOES NOT KNOW THEIR T-SHIRT SIZE? Other people would look at the display, which consisted of nothing but t-shirts and sweatshirts and ask "do y'all have tank tops?" Do you fucking SEE any tank tops, asshole? No, we have a secret stash only available to shrewd individuals such as yourself. Idiots. Anyway, show ended, went back to Allison's to crash.
Thursday (7/12): Allison had work most of the day, so I spent the day in Towson with Megan perusing shops and such. We went to see the new Harry Potter movie that night once Allison was off work. Kind of disappointing, but I didn't shit myself with rage or anything. We try to make plans for later that night, but nothing works out. Allison, Megan, and I return to Allison's house and make delicious lava cakes (chocolate cakes with liquid chocolate centers). I O.D. on cake batter. In spite of the sugar high, eventually Allison and I crash.
Friday (7/13): Friday the 13th- OOOOOOO! Allison tries an experiment where I wear her pants as we had originally intended to go to some indie dance club. The plans fell through, and there is no evidence of me in the pants, but they fit disturbingly well. More room for my junk than I would have thought... Anyway, the plan to go to the club falls through, but we go to an Orioles game with some of Allison's friends, followed by a visit to a dive bar with the most erratic pricing ever. I got taxed for not having boobs as well as probably being very obviously under age (let's face it, I'm 19 and goddamn look it). Still, my liver had been getting complacent since I got back from NYU and I needed to make that fucker earn his keep.
Saturday (7/14): Same routine as most of the beginnings of the days. Lounge around at Allison's, go out at night. We go to Georgetown with Megan to meet Beast and go to a hookah bar. This place was probably the hottest location in Georgetown. Not stylistically. I mean that this is a place full of burning and smoking hookahs and NO AIR CONDITIONING. And terrible service. We tipped like 8%.
Sunday (7/15): Same morning routine as usual. That night we go with Megan, Molly, and Rachel Ellis to a roller derby bout. This is basically a mosh pit on roller skates with a scoring system. Fun for a while, but it kind of turns into a nascar event after a certain point: people turning left ad nauseum. We then go to an artsy diner called paper moon, which must be a hipster's paradise. Lots of kitchy shit on the walls and a vaguely pretentious air to all of the staff. Still, they make a fine grilled cheese.
Monday (7/16): I meet Allison at her internship at city paper (she's a fact checker there) and head to the airport. Leaving sucks. I miss everyone again. Still, good times, and I go back to New York in a little over a month. This was a lengthy post for a first real one. Kudos if you made it all the way through... I'll update if I have something relevant to say.
The Reason For My Being (here), As It Were...
OK, so anyone who has read my shit knows that for like the last 2 years I had a blog on my myspace account. However, I will be 20 soon and simply do not want to be one of those over 20 year olds who still frequently uses myspace. As a social network, facebook is far superior anyway, so I kind of had to wonder why I was still on myspace in the first place. The only thing really tying me down was my blog, so I thought, "well fuck man, just start a new one". And hey, now I can regulate a bit more carefully who reads this shit so I can be much more candid. Updates will come whenever I damn well feel like it and/or get bored.
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