Monday, June 06, 2005
He's got the whole world in his palm.
Yo yo yo!! Wazza wazza wazza!!? Hehe. That makes so much more sense if you say it out loud. So, wazzup my nizzles? Fo Rizzles. Oh yeah. I be pimpin'. Down in the hood wit' my euboniks, homedog. Word.
Just got back from spending most of the day at Alex's house. Sweet. Watched him play a little bit of Star Wars Galactic Battlegrounds, which he let me borrow when I left. Looks OK, sorta like a copy of every other RTS ever made. Attack of the Clones, indeed. But it's Star Wars, and that's what counts. Being of the Star Wars brand 'ups' a game around 3 pts on the coolness factor for me. Unfortunately, with a lot of the star wars games that have come out, that only rises their score to about minus nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-seven on a coolness scale from 1 to 10. No kidding. And so I withhold judgment upon the Battlegrounds of Galacticness until a further date. After I have had a chance to behold it's glory. And stuff.
Man, Alex can talk up a storm. I mean, I'm cool with that, it's not like I usually have anything worth while to say, and it's kinda nice to be able to just sit and listen, but dude!, when I got dropped off back home everything just sounded so quiet and empty of sound, and I found that I was expecting my family to talk to me like Alex, and I was unusually quiet with them, just going around and listening. I guess I'm a good listener, cause thats what I like to do when I have the chance. It just strikes me as awfully strange somehow to be thinking about all this stuff without knowing Alex's opinion about it, now! Darn it. Now I have to figure out what to think about stuff all by myself. Pesky personal opinions. Such a bother. Really. You know, I don't know if I'm lazy or what, but sometimes I think it would be so much easier if you had someone who told you how you should think, what you should wear, what you should do, how you should feel, etc.. It would eliminate so many uncertainties in life. But, now that I think about it, you do, really. I mean, there are all sorts of self-help books telling you how act to have strong relationships, there are critics telling you what to think about movies or games, fashion magazines to tell you how to look good. And all of a sudden, almost before the words stopped spraying asunder from John's fingertips, it sounded really, really, not so much like a good idea anymore. At all.
I'm getting verry sleeepy... but I consider myself honor bound to tell you about my poor innocent Palm's horrifying state, bound by the Blogger's creed, that says yes, Yes, no matter how insignificant, no matter how petty, no matter how much even the author doesn't care, it can, and it shall be blogged! Only the persistent will survive! Onward! As I take these words into my very heart, I shall tell you the tale of an adventurous car ride over rocky brown soil and through overflowing rivers, testing the limits of our four wheel drive, the afternoon sky dark as if night with a wild rainstorm, rain pounding against the car's window like it wants to get in and it means to, no matter how long it must beat away. As I gazed out onto this dreary scene, my Palm Tungsten E, snuggled as usual in the warm confines of my cargo shorts' right front pocket chose this moment to slip out unnoticed and benefit from the scenery provided by the floor, a muddy view as well, thanks to the dirty footprints made by my mud caked shoes. Luckily for my Palm, it landed face-up on all that filth. No, the unlucky part was yet to come, as I unwittingly opened the car door, pushing against the strong wind and shielding my eyes from the rain that rode it, opening the umbrella, trying to keep it from collapsing, and holding it up so the other passengers could get out slightly less soaked than I was at that point. While I waited for everyone to get out, I noticed my Palm down on the floor of the car, illuminated in a bright flash of lightning, getting pelted by buckets of evil, evil rain. I picked it up, wiped it on my shirt, drying my shirt off and getting the Palm more wet as I did so, and thought little of it as I walked to the house struggling to hold the umbrella open against wind that could have easily been responsible making me just like Mary Popins who was able to fly around with her talking one. I finally reached refuge inside the building, the only light being provided by lightning strikes, coming with loud booms of thunder, until someone could find the light switch. I turned my Palm on. Oh good! It still worked! What a relief. I went to dry it on some handy surface that didn't look like it had just been swimming in a pool like I did, and decided to check what time it was, using the Palm because I forgot my watch. I clicked the time button. Nothing happened. I did it again. Ditto. I clicked the main menu button. Nada. I poked the screen madly like a woodpecker jackhammering a tree. Nuthin. Good lord! My screen wouldn't work!
NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Lightning struck and people were frightened to see me on my knees screaming to the heavens between sobs: "Why Lord, wwhhyyyy!? Why couldn't it have been me!? Take me instead!! WWHHHHHYYYYYY???" The horendifying truth is that everything on my Palm works, save the screen, which doesn't accept my gentle caresses with the stylus anymore. Oh the inhumanity! Well, that is the sorry story of my life for today, soon to be followed by the much more tear-inducing story of how I failed my BAC because I wasn't studying anymore. THE END.
Just got back from spending most of the day at Alex's house. Sweet. Watched him play a little bit of Star Wars Galactic Battlegrounds, which he let me borrow when I left. Looks OK, sorta like a copy of every other RTS ever made. Attack of the Clones, indeed. But it's Star Wars, and that's what counts. Being of the Star Wars brand 'ups' a game around 3 pts on the coolness factor for me. Unfortunately, with a lot of the star wars games that have come out, that only rises their score to about minus nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-seven on a coolness scale from 1 to 10. No kidding. And so I withhold judgment upon the Battlegrounds of Galacticness until a further date. After I have had a chance to behold it's glory. And stuff.
Man, Alex can talk up a storm. I mean, I'm cool with that, it's not like I usually have anything worth while to say, and it's kinda nice to be able to just sit and listen, but dude!, when I got dropped off back home everything just sounded so quiet and empty of sound, and I found that I was expecting my family to talk to me like Alex, and I was unusually quiet with them, just going around and listening. I guess I'm a good listener, cause thats what I like to do when I have the chance. It just strikes me as awfully strange somehow to be thinking about all this stuff without knowing Alex's opinion about it, now! Darn it. Now I have to figure out what to think about stuff all by myself. Pesky personal opinions. Such a bother. Really. You know, I don't know if I'm lazy or what, but sometimes I think it would be so much easier if you had someone who told you how you should think, what you should wear, what you should do, how you should feel, etc.. It would eliminate so many uncertainties in life. But, now that I think about it, you do, really. I mean, there are all sorts of self-help books telling you how act to have strong relationships, there are critics telling you what to think about movies or games, fashion magazines to tell you how to look good. And all of a sudden, almost before the words stopped spraying asunder from John's fingertips, it sounded really, really, not so much like a good idea anymore. At all.
I'm getting verry sleeepy... but I consider myself honor bound to tell you about my poor innocent Palm's horrifying state, bound by the Blogger's creed, that says yes, Yes, no matter how insignificant, no matter how petty, no matter how much even the author doesn't care, it can, and it shall be blogged! Only the persistent will survive! Onward! As I take these words into my very heart, I shall tell you the tale of an adventurous car ride over rocky brown soil and through overflowing rivers, testing the limits of our four wheel drive, the afternoon sky dark as if night with a wild rainstorm, rain pounding against the car's window like it wants to get in and it means to, no matter how long it must beat away. As I gazed out onto this dreary scene, my Palm Tungsten E, snuggled as usual in the warm confines of my cargo shorts' right front pocket chose this moment to slip out unnoticed and benefit from the scenery provided by the floor, a muddy view as well, thanks to the dirty footprints made by my mud caked shoes. Luckily for my Palm, it landed face-up on all that filth. No, the unlucky part was yet to come, as I unwittingly opened the car door, pushing against the strong wind and shielding my eyes from the rain that rode it, opening the umbrella, trying to keep it from collapsing, and holding it up so the other passengers could get out slightly less soaked than I was at that point. While I waited for everyone to get out, I noticed my Palm down on the floor of the car, illuminated in a bright flash of lightning, getting pelted by buckets of evil, evil rain. I picked it up, wiped it on my shirt, drying my shirt off and getting the Palm more wet as I did so, and thought little of it as I walked to the house struggling to hold the umbrella open against wind that could have easily been responsible making me just like Mary Popins who was able to fly around with her talking one. I finally reached refuge inside the building, the only light being provided by lightning strikes, coming with loud booms of thunder, until someone could find the light switch. I turned my Palm on. Oh good! It still worked! What a relief. I went to dry it on some handy surface that didn't look like it had just been swimming in a pool like I did, and decided to check what time it was, using the Palm because I forgot my watch. I clicked the time button. Nothing happened. I did it again. Ditto. I clicked the main menu button. Nada. I poked the screen madly like a woodpecker jackhammering a tree. Nuthin. Good lord! My screen wouldn't work!
NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Lightning struck and people were frightened to see me on my knees screaming to the heavens between sobs: "Why Lord, wwhhyyyy!? Why couldn't it have been me!? Take me instead!! WWHHHHHYYYYYY???" The horendifying truth is that everything on my Palm works, save the screen, which doesn't accept my gentle caresses with the stylus anymore. Oh the inhumanity! Well, that is the sorry story of my life for today, soon to be followed by the much more tear-inducing story of how I failed my BAC because I wasn't studying anymore. THE END.
// posted by John @ 10:47 AM 
