Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Confession #201: I'm a Gaming Addict

"You're a gaming addict," I was told somberly today.

"I'm not!" I protested mightily even though I had just spent over ten minutes gushing excitedly over the arrival of my newest shiny object, the new Batman: Arkham Asylum game.

Truthfully, I don't have time to be playing video games. I'm close to moving, and what little time I have at home should be spent putting stuff in boxes, not in front of my 360. But I couldn't help it. I had been waiting for this game forever, and thus far, Batman does not disappoint.

Outstanding graphics, a solid storyline (the lunatics have taken over the asylum) and hidden treasures throughout the maze of crazy give this game that kind of addiction that just does NOT allow you to stop playing. Plus, it's just FUN. You get to punch and kick guys, and you get to hang out on gargoyles and swing and crawl through grates, and protect your car when the bad guys are pounding on it.

It's like your inner 13 year old boys best fantasy come to life! ...

Okay if your fantasy was to crawl through grates in a maze full of psychotic lunatics and stuff.

But really, there are some games that are just so engaging in story and dialogue and pure interaction, it's better put together than three quarters of the movies you see out there.

And if loving that is silly, let it be so. I haven't been so in love with a game since the original Max Payne.

I still maintain that I'm not a true gaming addict. I didn't stay up all night playing, though the reason why I stopped wasn't because I felt like I should.

Honestly, I just got scared. Scarecrow boss fight. Dead parents. Late at night. In a morgue.

And Batman had just been drugged with the fear potion thingy.

No thank you, I'd rather sleep.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

This is what you call a Support System!?

My bra broke.

Seriously. It burst open while I was at work. And it happened just as I was settling down to work. And I'm wearing a low-cut dress today that can just skirt by as appropriate office attire if I safety pin the top closer together. If I don't I look like I'm going to a strip club for a wet t-shirt contest.

But now my safety pin has been upgraded to bra-fixer, which means i have had to go all MacGuyver and use a binder clip to try to keep the girls from spilling out.

In my distress I emailed the story to a few friends. One yelled at me because apparently the subject line : OMG MY BOOBS BURST OUT OF MY BRA isn't exactly appropriate to send to a work email from a conservative Christian organization, and my other friend apparently was in the middle of a conference call when her laptop (Projected on the screen with 25 doctors in the room) screen also showed up with that as that newest subject line.

Okay that was funny. But still. My boobs and I are officially at war.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Welcome to the '30s!

It's not all that different from the '20s. Then again, I've only been 30 for about four days, so I don't have that much basis for comparison.

There are always goals, but this is the first time that I feel infinitely closer to actually accomplishing. The maturity is hitting me, albeit slowly, but really, how can you really ever truly mature when you get such a gleeful delight over things like a 'ROCKBAND' cake?

Rockband Cake!

I sincerely take that as license to occassionately embrace the Peter Pan in me.