In Which I Talk About Star Trek and This Becomes the Dorkiest Blog Ever

In preparation for what is likely to be the best movie of the summer, I thought we’d discuss a little Star Trek. Doesn’t that sound like fun?

It seems to me that Star Trek is the most absolutely divisive form of geek pop culture entertainment ever, if that makes any sense at all. It is the definition of dorky. People are willing to give a pass to anything, and accept the quirks of most any random geeky thing. For example, no one really hates Star Wars (or am I just being optimistic?). Even if you don’t necessarily care for the goings on in our favorite galaxy far, far away, your mouth doesn’t fill with bile at the very mention of its name.

Not poor Star Trek. People HATE Star Trek. It’s not cool. It’s never been cool. It was the original, weirdo, outcast, fan convention-y, dork show by which all others are based and it has never escaped that stigma. For some reason, people find it absolutely impossible to accept that there is such a thing as a causal Star Trek fan. When I say, “Oh, that new Star Trek movie. That looks good. I think I’ll go see that,” people are like, “OMFG, are you some sort of weirdo looser dork? Are you lining up at midnight? Are you going to dress up? Do you speak Klingon? Have you gotten laid? Were they wearing Vulcan ears when you did it? Or was it just a Vulcan blow up doll? Why are you such a fucking dork, you dorky fuck?” This is what people say.

I consider myself… wait for it… a causal Star Trek fan. Such a thing exists. It is possible. Now, people know I am a dork and just assume that I am head over heels in love with Gene Roddenberry’s vision of life in the 23rd century. I admit that it would be an accurate assumption to make. But let me just make one thing ABSOLUTELY clear before we get any further into our discussion: Star Trek and Star Wars are two absolutely, completely distinct and separate things. While there is a ton of overlap, liking one does not mean you will like the other, and they are in fact two COMPLETELY different approaches to COMPLETELY different stories. I am a huge and unapologetic Star Wars enthusiast. I love the hell out of that stupid thing. If you want to make fun of me for something, make fun of me for that. I have a Yoda poster and a Han Solo painting both hanging in my apartment. I DO NOT have a Star Trek anything hanging anywhere in my apartment. So there.

…

No, I’m not done with that yet, I’ve decided. I mean, it’s like saying Nintendo and Sega are the same thing. I mean, Christ! I once read something a long time ago that said Star Wars was the ultimate Republican view of the future (even though it takes place a long time ago, bitches) and Star Trek was the Democratic view. I can kinda see that. Star Wars is about a huge bureaucracy that fails and requires a small revolution to overthrow and install a, theoretically, smaller government body. Star Trek is about a quasi-utopian federation that completely rules all the star systems. They don’t even have money! So there. Star Wars and Star Trek are as completely incompatible as Republicans and Democrats. I trust I’ve proven my point.

So, I consider myself a casual Star Trek fan. I’ve watched some of the TV episodes. I’ve seen all of the movies multiple times. I know the difference between a Vulcan and a Romulan. But I have not seen every episode. Hell, I haven’t even seen complete episodes of Deep Space Nine and Enterprise. I have never read one of the books. I do not speak Klingon. I have never had a sexual fantasy involving any of the characters. I like to keep things casual.

I think the reason I’m not more of a Star Trek fan is that there is simply too much crap to keep up with. I mean, we are talking about six television series, hundreds of books and comics, ten (soon to be eleven) movies, and so on. I mean, who seriously has time to sort through all that? And a lot of it is not all that good. Star Trek is primarily a series of TV, um, series, and a lot of the episodes I’ve were pretty terrible. Not just from the original series but from the recent ones, like The Next Generation, as well.

My admiration of Star Trek comes primarily from the movies. Instead of watching 100+ hours of a TV show with bad special effects, all the good stuff about Star Trek is boiled down to just under two hours in a movie with slightly better effects. I actually like all the movies for different reasons, but the quality on those things are absolutely all over the place. Some are awesome and some are considered the worst movies ever made. The general rule of thumb is that the even numbered Treks are the ones worth watching, and anything with an odd number should  be thrown in the garbage. This rule actually holds up really well, except part VII (Generations), which is one of my personal favorites.

So just a quick go over of the movies since you care (and really, it’s my blog so I can do this). Part One, The Motion Picture, is pretty freaking boring. Wrath of Khan is pretty freaking good. The Search for Spock is alright. The Voyage Home is the one with the whales and really funny. The Final Frontier is not as bad as everyone makes it out to be. The Undiscovered Country is my favorite. Generations is cool cause it has The Next Generation cast, finally. First Contact is fantastic. Insurrection is the worst of the worst. Nemesis ain’t much better. It’s a shame that the movies with The Next Generation cast aren’t better, since I like that show better than the original, as I think most people my age do since it was the series airing when we were growing up. I mean, come on, Worf and Data and Jordi LaForge/Reading Rainbow guy? And Captain Picard? They are cool.

So I think the new movie looks really fun. There’s already a big stink about it cause it changes a lot of the timeline and isn’t completely true to the original series. But, you see, that’s the point. One of the big reasons Star Trek fans are so shat upon is because they refuse to accept anything that isn’t absolutely true to the characters or stories. I mean, I was reading an interview with the guy who plays Sulu and he talked about how he had to punch the buttons on his computer on the bridge just right so fans would not have a moderate to serious stroke.

Don’t you think this is taking it too far? But then I think, “Hey, Austin? What if they did this to Star Wars? What if, twenty years down the line someone remade the first Star Wars movie and changed a whole bunch and stuff? What would you think then? Why do you even have this inner voice that asks the stupidest hypothetical questions?” I honestly wouldn’t care. I mean, George Lucas has already remade the movie like three times anyway, so who gives a shit, right?

Point is, it seems this movie is kinda really its own little thing, almost completely independent of the other Star Trek stuff. It’s made for people who haven’t seen a single episode and for people who have translated the Bible into Klingon. There’s a balance that has to be struck. In the end, I really don’t think it will matter to most people. There is one thing that both Star Trek fans and people who have never heard want out of it: a good movie. And I think it looks like such. And it doesn’t hurt that it’s made by J.J. Abrams, who wrote and directed some kick-ass episodes of Lost.

But a warning before I end. I remember writing a similar post like this before the Indiana Jones movie came out last summer. I told people to calm the fuck down an not worry that they were changing stuff. And then I saw The Crystal Skull. And it just… wasn’t… Indy. The stuff they changed wasn’t that bad. But they delivered a movie that kinda stripped away what made Indiana Jones Indiana Jones. I’m sorry, I love aliens to death, but there is a time and a place for them and an Indiana Jones movie is neither the time nor the place. And no movie should EVER feature Shia LaBeouf swinging from trees (badly CGIed, I might add). At least Star Trek won’t feature that, right? RIGHT?!? It also can’t be any worse that that Wolverine movie. Jeeze. Co-starring Ryan Reynolds MY ASS.

One Year

Exactly one year ago today, Morgan and I were bored and said, “Hey, blogging, that could be fun!” And it just so happens that I was almost run over by some douche as I walked to my garage after work. Thus, Just Like the City was born, and it’s been a hell of a ride.

I really don’t need to expand from there, cause you know the rest of the story. Just Like the City went on to become one of the most popular blogs in America, a bastion of truth and humor in these turbulent times we call the… um… have we still not come up with any name for this decade besides “the aughts?” America needed a voice for the little people, to stand up against hipster douches, killer roofing, and militant Mormans, and by God, the blog delivered! It’s been hard to update lately, what with the book deal and talk show appearances, but rest assured I have not forgotten. When I have something to bitch about, you’ll hear it hear first. Unless you hear it from me personally first. But really, is there a difference?

Okay, so maybe I haven’t set the world on fire, but it has been fun! When people ask me when I’m ever going to post again, it kinda makes me feel good. It’s almost like they are saying, “You just don’t work for me in real life. But the blog! It’s hilarious!” So, hey, at least someone’s getting something out of it, right?

I really don’t know what to say beyond things that are self serving right now. I just wanted you to know that I know it’s been one year. I just wanted you to know that I know it’s been yet another month since I updated. I just wanted you to know that I know that you don’t care. I want you to know I WANT you to know (Quiz Time: name that movie! Unless your name is Billy. Hint: you can’t like this movie AND believe in God, candlestickers).

And because you care, my most popular post so far has been the Glow in the Dark concert review, followed by my Indiana Jones review, followed by my original hipster douche screed, followed by my favorite post about how my favorite book ended up in the trash (though, not literally. I sold it for drug money).

Anyway, moving on, the reason I haven’t posted in so long is cause A) I’ve been hella busy at work, which is when I do all my blogging and B) cause I’m cooking up a pretty good post as we speak. The thing is, I accidently erased it like I was a sixty-year old woman using the interwebs for the first time. So I had to construct it from scratch, cause it was a long one. But I hope you like it. How’s that for antici…. pation? (Quiz Time: name that movie! Unless your name is Billy. Hint: fishnet stockings).

And now… cake!

SXSW: A Local’s Perspective

I knew on Saturday, when it took me approximately eight hours to travel from 183 to 38th Street on I-35, that it was that special time of year again. The internet is sluggish, cell phone service has crashed, streets are blocked, the air is heavy with every type of smoke imaginable, and everyone looks like mannequins from Buffalo Exchange.

SXSW 2009 is here.

I bet you think you know where this is going but, for the record, I do not hate SXSW, nor do I begrudge the legions of hipster and techy douches descending on our city. I am fully aware of the amount of money this thing brings into the local economy, a fact even more important this year. I am also incredibly proud that so many people would spend their spring breaks going to this thing, making Austin an actual tourist destination. Seriously, people LOVE this city. And for a week it becomes their playground. And that is totally fine with me. I love it when people love Austin (in every way imaginable).

But I came to the conclusion last year that SXSW simply isn’t for people that already live here, unless you happen to be hardcore into the music, film, or interactive scene. I mean, think about it. A typical SXSW-goer spends their nights drinking unfathomable amounts of alcohol, wandering the streets in a drunken swagger, and listening to some shitty band that you’ve never heard of play in a venue that has the acoustics of a Styrofoam cup filled with a hobo’s change. I ask you, resident of Austin, how is this any different from any other weekend?

Ya see, as far as the whole live music and drinking thing is concerned, I’d say we are a little spoiled in Austin. So SXSW is just a typical Austin weekend, except it’s extended to a week and there’s a shit ton more yankees than usual. And the other thing to think about is this: it’s probably like this all the time in places like New York (and I’m basing this assumption ENTIRELY on the movie Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist. It was cute). They just get to do it in a different locale. And Austin, as big and as cool as we think we are (and we are pretty fucking awesome), does not really have the capacity to handle this type of thing and these types of crowds. I mean, supposedly EVERY FLIGHT into the city was booked solid yesterday. This is amazing.

Then, there’s actual access to the shows to consider. Now, I’ve never had an actual SXSW pass or wristband. Last year, I did borrow a wristband for a day just to see what all of the fuss was about, but I came to the same conclusion I did earlier in this piece: this is just a Saturday night, there’s just MORE of it. And it’s not like I could have gotten into one of the BIG shows with my wristband. Oh no, you need a pass and credentials for that. So if SXSW is not for locals, it certainly isn’t catered to the average fan. Like most things, it’s just a big trade show or convention where people in a similar industry get together and enjoy (or in the case of hipster douches, not enjoy) the thing they love. There is so much press coverage on the thing cause there is SO MUCH PRESS here. I mean, what else are they going to talk about? What else am I going to talk about?

Now, these are certainly not ground breaking conclusions. But I think it’s important to keep these kind of things in perspective. And for all the Salvation Army Thrift Store rejects (also the name of a band playing at The Parish, incidentally) running about, some of them are actually kinda hot. So, for the most part, I think I’ve finally made peace with SXSW.

However.

Were some of these fucking people raised in a fucking barn? I know that’s the stereotype for us goat-fucking Texans, but come on! I’m working downtown (across the street from The Paramount, the SXSW Mecca no less!), and I have to see and put up with these people all day long! It’s like they have no concept of laws and rules and society and traffic flow or smoking ordinances or any of that type of stuff! I don’t know what kind of magical land yall come from where there simply are no rules and no structure to society, but people actually LIVE in Austin. It’s not  Disneyland!

Take the worst offenders: street crossers. Apparently, in Hipster Douche Land, it is perfectly acceptable to cross the street whenever the fuck you please, regardless if traffic is barreling towards you and people have to ruin their break pads just to make sure they don’t run into you and spill your Parliaments all over the goddammed ground. I’m going to let you festival goers in on a secret: PEOPLE IN AUSTIN CANNOT DRIVE. We simply cannot master this skill. So you are probably going to get run over. Just use common fucking sense and cross where there is not a car right in front of you.

Lesson number two: ordering at a fast food restaurant. You order here the same way you do everywhere else. This is not a completely foreign country! I swear, you’d think some of these people had never seen the inside of a Wendy’s before. They’re all, “Oh…yeah…um…what’s this hamburger thing?” They don’t have a concept of a line (which they should, since they will be waiting outside so many clubs). And no concept of monetary exchange. When it comes time to pay, they’re like “Oh…yeah…ummm…I forgot about money.” And then they have to maneuver past eighty press badges hanging around their necks to get to their wallets.

Back to traffic. It is perfectly UNACCEPTABLE to stand in the middle of the street and take pictures. Yes, the capitol building is gorgeous, and the largest one in the country for you trivia buffs. Yup, even larger than our nation’s capitol. But stopping traffic so you can take a snap of it with your iPhone is A) going to get you a crappy picture, and B) is going to get you run over by yours truly. Going back to something I said in a post almost a year ago, we live in a SOCIETY with RULES. And yes, even a place as fucking deranged as the ATX has them!

And just so you know, there are other BBQ places not called “Stubb’s.” And if you think their ribs suck it does not mean ALL ribs suck. In fact, their ribs do suck. Come on, you like indie bands! Why not try another restaurant as well? This also applies to Tex Mex/Chuy’s.

And all together now: it’s I-35, not THE 35. 183, not THE 183. Streets around here have enough names as it is. Don’t confuse us anymore than we already are.

So this weekend I will officially brave the SXSW and become one with the masses, only because Explosions in the Sky is playing a free show at Auditorium Shores.  Hopefully, the hipster douches will decide Explosions are not cool anymore and avoid the show. But whatever happens, it’s going to be a gorgeous weekend. And I’m glad everyone is here to see how nice the weather in Austin can actually be before summer (and ACL) sets in.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to navigate around a mass of people in front of the Paramount just to get to my car. These are the same people I will probably be running over in a few seconds. So it goes.

Sega Isn’t All That Great, In Retrospect. There. I Said It.

Sorry for another post about video games. For some reason, they have been consuming my thoughts lately. Maybe because I’m not entirely happy with everything and reflecting on my glorious childhood is the only thing that gets me through the day? Or maybe I really am just that big a dork. Whatever the reason. I’m warning you to stop reading now. 

As a “grownup,” I’ve never really had all that big a problem with Sega games. Yes, I will always be a Nintendo boy (4 life!), but I’ve always been kinda respectful of the Big N’s big rival (and don’t give me that Sony or Microsoft shit). I’ve enjoyed their games. I effing LOVED the Dreamcast. I even count Shenmue as one of my favorite games. 

This wasn’t always the case. The world is always split into dichotomies. As adults, it’s stuff like Democrats vs. Republicans, America vs. The World, Poor vs. Rich, etc. etc. You know, important stuff. And we prepared for these showdowns on the playground as kids. There were a lot of arguments at my school. Some of the biggest ones: G.I. Joe vs. Ninja Turtles (Ninja Turtles), Longhorns vs. Aggies (Longhorns), Kelly Kapowski vs. the girl on California Dreams (Zack Morris), Street Fighter vs. Mortal Kombat (this was a particularly vicious one at Old Town Elementary, but Street Fighter, doy!), Marvel vs. DC (Marvel back in the day, although I wasn’t that into comic books), etc. etc. You know, important stuff. 

The biggest showdown was always Nintendo vs. Sega. Both companies were at the height of the console wars during my days on the playscape, and we carried this fight from our rooms to the monkey bars. I was, and will always be, a complete, biased, and unequivocal Nintendo apologist. The fucking Genesis didn’t have shit on the Super Nintendo, “blast processing” be damned. 

I always thought it was weird that kids fell solely along one of these parties. It was like parents absolutely refused to buy their children another system (”why do you need another one, Timmy? Don’t you already have one of those Mario machines? Why would you want another one?”). So we were stuck with what our parents bought us and we defended it like we were defending The Alamo (as in, poorly but with lots of enthusiasm). 

And weren’t those Sega kids weird? It was like their parents didn’t really love them. They knew they were on the losing side of this battle, but being the little brats that they were, they simply could not admit defeat and had to go on and on about how much better Golden Axe was than Zelda. Seriously. You have got to be shitting me. They just had this superior attitude about them, like they were better than us or something. And it was at its worst when they would pull those stupid Game Gears out. Even the most diehard Nintendo fan can admit that the Game Boy didn’t have the best graphics ever, but at least it had the games. And the friggin’ battery life. What good was full color graphics if A) the thing ran out of batteries every hour(ish), 2) it was so bulky it felt like holding a frozen fish, and 3) the games all kinda sucked? 

Now, eventually I kinda caved and asked my parents for a Sega Genesis. I figured I could split the difference and at least be a fan of both and thereby cement my status as the coolest kid in school (which I wasn’t and never was). So mom calls one day and says she found a Sega at a garage sale and I’m like, “oh, you gotta get it!” She brings it home. It was a Sega Master System, not the Genesis. If you thought the Genesis was iffy, did you ever try to play a Master System game? Sheesh. God evidently did not want me to be a Sega fan, so I gave up. No need to tempt fate, right? Stupid Master System. 

When the Dreamcast came out, years later, I was determined not to get one. I already had an N64 and a Playstation, and they were both great, and Sega was basically dead in the water, so why would I need one. Screw Sega, I hope they die and rot in hell! But then I saw Soul Caliber in action. It was like watching real life! Who could have thought graphics could look this good?!? And my dad saw one of the football games and swore he was watching a live NFL broadcast. And since I didn’t have anything better to ask for for Christmas, I got a Dreamcast. 

And I loved it. Still love it to this day. And I became, for that year and a half, a Sega fan. 

So recently, they release this huge Genesis game collection for the Xbox 360. I’m talking 40 something of the “best” Genesis games all in one collection. Sure, I could just emulate them. But that’s too much trouble. And I want the experience of playing some Sega games on a TV with an actual video game controller. And since I was all like, “Sega’s the shit!” I got it in an attempt to uncover an entire treasure trove of games from an era I missed. 

My excitement quickly turned to horror when I found that most of these games, to put it as nicely and maturely as I possibly can, sucked ass balls. I don’t really know who ever thought this shit was better than the Big N, but they should be in therapy cause these aren’t necessarily video games. They are attempts at simply making a game. And the attempts, for the most part, seemed to have failed. 

I think my big problem with Sega games is that they are typically ports of arcade games, since they were really big on the arcade scene and Nintendo really wasnt (apart from like Donkey Kong and the original Mario Bros.). And what works in an arcade, where games are specifically designed to steal all your money, doesn’t really work as well at home. If I pay a quarter (as it was back in the day, before the Great Recession), and get my ass handed to me, but have mildly distracting fun for five minutes, that’s one thing. But to plop in excess of $50 on one of these things only to have the gameplay remain largely unchanged? And be stuck with it cause my parents won’t buy me anything else? That’s not good. 

And I really don’t know how to put it, but Sega games just feel clunky. When you tell Mario to move somewhere, he pretty much does it precisely. If you die in one of the 2D Mario games, chances are it was probably your fault. When you tell Sonic to move somewhere, he kinda chugs along at first before getting up to speed, gets stuck on a hill, and takes a freaking runway to stop. And it’s not just limited to Sonic. ALL the Sega games control like this. They just don’t respond well. Maybe they controlled better with an actual Genesis controller, but even old Nintendo games play alright today on analog sticks. Add to that graphics that are a little too big and a little too muddy and you got a bit of a problem. 

Then, there’s the fact that a lot of their games are rip offs of Nintendo games that are simply not as good. Golden Axe Warrior, a Master System game, is pretty much a complete Zelda clone. The layout of the game is EXACTLY the same. The dungeons are EXACTLY the same. But it really has none of the charm, just slightly better graphics. Phantasy Star tries to do Final Fantasy and Dragon Quest, and it’s actually not all that bad (especially IV), but it is so needlessly complicated. And simply not as fun. And could someone please tell me what I am supposed to do in Ecco? I can’t even get past the first screen. 

Now, Sonic is kinda alright. Not as great as people remember it I’m sure, but kinda alright. But one of the big Sega classics, Altered Beast, is without a doubt one of the worst games I have ever played. And I’ve played some crap. Can someone tell me why Sega fans hold this game in such high regard, cause I’ve obviously spilled the proverbial Kool Aid all over myself on this one. The game controls just about as well as if you were playing with a turd, and the gameplay is so repetitive and boring that I can’t even will myself past the first level. No, not even to unlock an achievement point! And this was a game that came with the system, so it was pretty freaking high profile. If I had played this as a kid, I probably would have ended up a serial killer (albeit one that wears the skins of animals). Since I had Mario, I am a wonderful human being. 

The Streets of Rage series is an exception. Ignoring the fact that it’s a rip off of Final Fight, the three games are a hell of a lot of fun and probably the only things really stopping me from snapping the disc in half. I think it’s because they control like Nintendo games, as in good. They move fast, they are fun to play, and the music stands on the same level as Nintendo music, maybe even better (don’t get me started on Genesis music in general). 

So this is the best that Sega put out during the Genesis days? Seriously? This is what all the fuss is about? Can you even IMAGINE what a Nintendo disc like this would be like? Say Nintendo came out with a compilation of all their Super Nintendo first-party games, as Sega did here. Oh my Lord. Super Mario World, The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past, Super Metroid, Donkey Kong Country (technically second-party, but it passes), F-Zero, Star Fox, and so on. Just those six games right there are better than any of the forty put forth by Sega. And I didn’t even mention the original Super Mario Kart or the Mario All-Stars collection. But now I did. So there. 

Look, long story short. If you were as privileged as I to grow up a Nintendo kid, consider yourself truly blessed from above. You are probably smarter, better looking, your parents took an active interest in your well-being, and are probably just an all around better person than your Sega peers. After seeing all that I have typed on this subject, I am considering not posting it. I feel dorkier than I ever have in my entire life. Yes, even more so than any of the Star Wars conventions I have attended (but I’ve met Chewbacca and Carrie Fisher and you haven’t, so there). But I am clearly passionate about this subject. Thank you for letting me vent. And now, commercials from the early ’90s. Ah, to have been a marketing director at that time…

First, Sega: 

 

(Blast Processing my ass)

 

 

And now, Nintendo:

(Was that not the most 90s commercial you have ever seen? I mean, they used the Butthole Surfers)

Odds and Ends: Search Engine Edition

-For my blind readers who can’t see and are instead having this blog read to them (maybe by one of those cool automated computer voices), I got totally bored and decided to experiment with a layout change. Just for shits. I really liked the old one, but it bugged the heck out of me that the titles of posts were green when my scheme was trying to be bluish. WordPress would not let me change this. I like this one, apart from the frilly flowery things above the links and whatnot. Flowers don’t really say “Austin” (me or the city). But at least they aren’t fraking green.

-The Oscars!…. were a little boring this year. I only saw one of the best picture nominees, and it did not win. And while my two favroite movies from last year, Milk and The Dark Knight, did get a lot of love, I’m starting to wonder why I even care about this stupid show anymore. Every year I think, “Oh, this ceremony is gonna be off da hook!” By the time 3:30 CST rolls around (the average time the show ends), I’m mad, bleary-eyed, and reflecting on my wasted life not making movies. Such is the lot of a commie homo-loving son of a gun.

-I’ve been working on my Spanish. “Escoba” means “broom,” according to my Spanish Mac Dashboard Widget (or SMDW for short, which sounds like a sex act). Thus, what I should have said last week was “tenga escoba?” Yes? Si?

-So, running was going well for a while. I made it up to SIX MILES the other day, further than I have ever probably even WALKED in a single sitting (walking?) in my life. Maybe I pushed myself a little to hard, cause my knee hurts like a somabitch. It’s usually fine during the day, but the second I start running… disaster. I only made it 15 minutes today because of the knee, not even enough time to reach Lady GaGa on my “Rerning” playlist. Sigh. Something tells me a Knee Storm ‘09 is in my future, and a Chris Redfield is not.

-Chris Redfield.

-I’ve seen this done on other blogs, and I thought it was fun, and since I have nothing else to say right now, I’ll do this. Below is a list of some of the various terms people have used in search engines to get to this here blog. Some are quite funny. In the interest of public service, I will address a few of these queues with some helpful advice. Remember, these were all terms used to get here. Some make sense. Some prove the internet is weird.

1. Rihanna Austin review

By far my most popular search, along with Kanye. If you look around you can find it, but long story short: it was good and she was cute. And it was, like, a year ago so get over it. But we do all need to stay strong for our beloved Rihanna. This whole Chris Brown thing is kinda sick, and the only thing that comforts me is Rihanna has Jay-Z on her side. Double your pleasure, Chis Brown, double your PAIN!

2. Wearing an arm cast

Wear it on your arm. How fucking hard is that?

3. How to be a hipster elitist

Attend SXSW. Hate everyone else’s band. Yadda yadda yadda.

4. Men dicks/Big dick men

Okay, hey now! This is a G-rated blog, for fuck’s sake! I imagine these searchers where disappointed when they came here but, the internet being what it is, probably eventually found gratification somewhere else. But seriously, I don’t think I’ve mentioned a single dick on this site? Or have I? Was I posting in my sleep again?

5. Sling cast

I have a picture somewhere on here that explains this.

6. I’m melting!

I’m so sorry to hear that. Try jumping into water or, you know, not standing by the microwave with the door open.

7. Review chesney concert

I didn’t even go to this one. I imagine he wore a hat and sang.

8. I want to wear skinny jeans

You poor, poor thing.

9. My blue arm cast

Mine was probably prettier than yours AND probably had more signatures AND probably smelled worse. Advantage: me.

10. ^fullfuck

Seriously, huh? “You know, I’m really tired of those semifucks,” search engine guy says one day. “I need to find me one of those real, bona-fied fullfucks! Hmmm, Just Like the City? Maybe there’s a fullfuck in here!”

Two hours later… “Why did I need to read that much about a wedding? And E.T. shopping at American Apparel? WHERE THE HELL IS MY FULLFUCK!”

And scene.

11. family reunions

Fun fun fun! I hope this person wasn’t scared off from family reunions forever, though…

12. gymnastics 2008 pictures pictures/cut olympic gymnasts

I got a lot of these and their variations, and they are something I think I actually helped with! You are welcome! With that new search bar in the corner, see if you can find the picture again!

13. rain cloud wii mario cart

You misspelled “cart,” you wii-tard. No wonder it’s always raining around you.

14. men and big dicks/big men with big dicks

Honestly, this has gotten out of hand. Or has it gotten… in hand? Mwa ha ha!

15. hipster douche

Hipster douche! Go ahead… go outside and scream it! I promise you will feel better. I think that was the answer you were looking for.

16. shirts to wear with skinny jeans

None.

17. how to wear skinny jeans

Don’t.

18. orson scott card

Now let’s talk about a douche. I didn’t literally throw his books away, but I did pack them up and turn them into Half Price for 12 big ones. It was quite emotional. There were like twenty of them, ask Morgan. With the twelve bucks, I purchased The New Joy of Gay Sex. Okay, not really, I bought a Michael Crichton (RIP) book. But wouldn’t that have been funny? I kind of thought it was wrong, potentially placing these books in other people’s hands. But I am no censor, people can read and say what they want. And 12 bucks!

19. nerd; all the ladies stranded in the lin

The ladies standing in the “lin” for the nerd show did not get in. Sorry to break it to you.

-And just as I go to post this, I see another search: “pictures of men with big dicks.” I suppose I’ve found this site’s calling…

-And in honor of my blog’s new “dark blue” look…

Gringo Loco, or Where Three Years of Spanish Got Me

This was an especially shitty week, and it could have had a shitty end except that a really funny story came out of it. 

Allow me to set the scene. It’s six ‘o clock Friday evening and I am leaving work. I have to run to the building next door to drop of two FedEx packages and one Lone Star package (a small regional delivery service). This is my job cause everyone I work with is too fucking lazy and too fucking fat to waddle their fat fucking asses over there when it takes no fucking effort at all (I said it was a bad week). But I don’t particularly care, it’s not like it’s a hard thing to do. 

So I enter the building next door and go to the mail room on the second floor. I’m tired and trying to think of all the adventures I am going to go onto that night. I have the FedEx things in one hand and the Lone Star in the other. And what do I do? Not paying any attention, I place the FedEx packages in the Lone Star box. 

Well, shit. The packages fall in slow motion, I yell out “NOOOOOOOO!” in slow motion, and the FedEx envelopes crash to the bottom of the Lone Star bin, far, far from arms length. I stick my hand in there to fish them out. They might as well be a mile away. There is no was I am getting to them. Have you ever had to fish something out of a standup mail box before? It’s kinda sorta impossible. 

I take heavy breaths and try to regain my composure. These packages HAVE to be in California by nine the next morning (this morning as I type this), or one of our pain-in-the-ass clients isn’t going to have their stupid little spot run at EXACTLY the right time. So I can’t just say, “Oh, well, cest la vie!” I have to get the packages out. 

I’m not MacGyver. I’m not even MacGruber. I can’t look around the room and try to put something together that will make this whole operation a piece of cake. The only way I can usually take care of things is with some sort of force. Like, if something is wrong with my computer. I don’t try to calmly restart it or force quit things. I just slap it a few times. If that doesn’t work, I kick it. 

I decide the best option is to turn this thing over to where the packages will fall out. No problem, right? Except that it’s really, really heavy. And it’s jammed up against a corner, scraping the edges of a UPS drop box and the wall. But I don’t think about these things. So I’m trying to tip this thing over and it’s not going well. It keeps getting stuck on the wall and threatening to topple over on top of me. Which technically is what I want it to do, but I don’t want to get stuck or anything. Imagine if I got pinned under a Lone Star mailbox? And no one came in cause it was the weekend? And I starved to death or my pinned leg got gangrene or rats came out of the walls and nibbled my face away? No, I couldn’t take those chances. I shoved the mail box back to the wall. 

Dammit, think, Austin, think! Rational plan one is to go to a bar, get a drink, and come back at eight when the pick up occurs and explain the situation. But I kinda want to go home and nap. Rational plan two is to leave a note. But then I figure the note might get lost, and the Lone Star guy and the FedEx guy probably hate each other and would not go out of their way to make sure a rival company gets a package. 

I go over to the supply table on the wall and get a huge roll of Priority Mail tape. This is my big plan. I’m going to fish the tape down in there, attach it to a package, and reel it up. ‘Cause that’s fucking gonna’ fucking work. But I’m desperate. I unspool a line of tape and drop it into the abyss of the mail slot. And of course it attaches to everything BUT the package. It goes to other letters. It gets stuck on the wall. And the tape can’t get a good enough grip of the packages in the first place for me to hoist it up. So I’m screwed. This was my last big plan. 

Unless…

Unless I can find a broom to stick in there, or a vacuum cleaner pole or something. 

And wouldn’t you know it? At that point, a cleaning lady came in, only to find me with my head and hands stuck down the mail chute screaming, “Why, God, why?!?” 

I jerk to attention and smile at her. I don’t want her to think that I’m stealing mail, cause I’m sure she cares. “Hi!” I say. Maybe a little to friendly. She smiles back. 

I point at the mail box. “I got a package stuck in here and I was wondering if you have a broom or a large pole or anything I can use to fish it out?” 

She’s just staring at me like I’m speaking jibberish and I’m like, oh shit. I’m really going to have to do this, am I? I’m really going to have to try… Spanish?!?

I gather my composure. She hasn’t responded to anything, Maybe she’s just deaf? Very shyly, and with seemingly mounds more hick accent then I normally use, I ask her, “Habla Ingles?” God, I hope that was the right conjugation. 

I get a reaction. She shakes her head and says, “No, no.” 

So I say, “Um… I… uh… quiero… no, that’s not right… tenga…. tenga… how the fuck do I say broom… tenga big stick?” I shit you not. This is what I say. Cause it doesn’t matter if it’s a broom. I just need a big stick! And I make a motion with my arms, like when you are describing how big the fish you just caught was. This could not get anymore white. 

Another cleaning guy shows up. I ask him, “Habla Ingles?” He nods, “Si.” Well, if you speak English, why did you say “si”?!? I don’t tell him this and instead try to explain my predicament to him. More cleaning crew is coming into the room. And this other guy just looks at me. Something tells me that his English is probably about as good as my Spanish, and that this isn’t going to work. 

So I’ve exhausted my Spanish repertoire. How, HOW do I know so little Spanish? I mean, I know more and I guess I was just on the spot, but I literally COULD NOT FUNCTION. And I had even made a Spanish joke earlier in the day (a coworker told me that her kid was doing bad in Spanish class, and I was like “Don’t you mean muy malo?” Ha ha, fucking brilliant, Austin). And I order Mexican food all the time! And I have friends that are fluent in it! And I live in Texas! How, how am I this bad? Why did I think taking Japanese was a good idea? It’s not like there’s going to be a Japanese cleaning crew that I can converse with some day. That language is fucking USELESS! 

In that moment, I regret every decision I’ve ever made. 

But there’s hope! I see a duster on the side of one of their trash cans, one that’s kinda long. And I point at it. And I say, “Can I borrow this… uno momento?” Blank stares again. So I just grab it and say “Uno momento” and hold up one finger cause, you know, don’t want to confuse anyone. 

Okay, now they’re on board. They smile and nod and agree and I take this FUCKING DUSTER back to the mail box and start fishing the packages out again. It’s not quite long enough, but I managed to hit the packages up against the wall of the mail box and then slide them up and, just like that, they are in my hands again. 

I turn back to the cleaning crew. There’s like four of them now and they are just staring at me. I place the duster back in its holster and say, “Um.. muchos, muchos gracias!” I put all the packages in their respective bins. I high tail it out of there. I hear a little bit of laughter. I’m listening for the words “gringo loco,” but I don’t hear it. I sheepishly walk to my parking garage. I need that nap. 

Moral of the story: learn Spanish, not Japanese. And don’t be stupid.

The Killers Kill Austin

(This picture is not from last night’s show, nor did I take it. It was hijacked from the internet. His face looks funny.)

Last night, I returned to the Frank Erwin Center in beautiful Austin, Texas, to see one of my faves, The Killers, in concert. You’ve heard of them. Tickets were graciously provided by the vivacious Mprint, and I cannot thank her enough.

In short, the glamorous indy rock and roll show was amazing and we were on top of the world. Somebody told me that The Killers were no good live. Well, this show would change your mind. For reasons unknown, we smiled like we meant it. We went to the place where the white boys dance. And we danced like humans and like we used to when we were young. (see what I did there? Mr. Brightside.)

The seats were up in the mezzanine (which is just a fancy arena word for “if this were the Titanic you would die”), but it was still a decent vantage point. While I would have liked to have gotten closer to Brandon Flowers (cause, you know, his jacket is nice? And he finally shaved off that creep-ass mustache?), I certainly ain’t gonna complain. The opening act was M83, which is a band I always pretend to know but really have no idea. Apparently they are French. Anyway, I confess I didn’t pay much attention to them. I have this habit of being completely catatonic during opening acts. And late. But they were pleasant, something I might have to download someday if I can stop my current habit of listening to The Killers 24/7.

So anyway, The Killers! I will say up front that the set list relied a little too heavily on the new CD, Day and Age. Of the ten songs on it, eight were played (and “A Dustland Fairytale” was not one of them… le sigh). While I understand that this was the “Day and Age Tour,” and that the CD is new, come on. You could have gotten rid of “The World That We Live In,” to make room for something else (say… “On Top”? Pretty please?).

But this is a minor complaint, cause the rest of the show was hit after hit and the songs from Day and Age are, you know, good. I’m kinda constructing the set list from memory here, but they opened with “Spaceman” and “Losing Touch.” Good opener. This went into “Somebody Told Me,” which is a song people apparently like. You can probably guess the songs from there. No, they did not forget “Mr. Brightside.”

There were a few surprises, I thought. They played “Shadowplay,” the Joy Division cover, with footage from the Joy Division movie, Control, in the back. Travis provided a nice backing synth line to this. Also, they played “Bling” from Sam’s Town, which is a song I’ve always liked. Sadly, no “On Top.”

On to highlights from the concert! I thought “Human” was really good. Yes, I know, you are sick of the song. But when everyone is singing along (cause it’s the one song everyone knows the words to right now), it’s pretty cool. And they played my favorite, “Read My Mind,” which was beautiful. Then they “closed” with “All These Things That I’ve Done,” the song that made me really like The Killers in the first place (ya know, back in the day).

I say “closed” cause of course there was an encore. (Little side rant real quick: what’s the deal with encores? You know you are going to come back out. We know you are going to come back out. I’ve already blown my voice out singing “Smile Like You Mean It” at the top of my lungs. Please, just get back on stage! Quick! It’s all dark in here! Someone is touching me! Someone’s calling my name from the back of the restaurant! I think encores should not be a given. They should be earned). Anyway. The encore started with “Bones,” which is not my favorite song by them but whatev. However, they did finish it off with “Jenny Was A Friend of Mine.” It’s kinda creepy, everyone in the arena singing about strangling a girl at the top of their lungs. And finally, “When You Were Young.” You might have heard this one too.

So, fantastic show, and this was my first Killers concert. I’ve always liked them cause their songs are over the top, and they certainly sounded that way live. Stage design was good too, with lots of neon lights and pretty colors. This was complimented with occasional bursts of confetti, bubbles, tiger skin backdrops, and fireworks. Yay, fireworks!

No celebrity sitings this time. I guess they don’t buy nosebleed seats. At at the Erwin Center, they’re not really nosebleeds. More like a light sniffle. And how do people get drunk off of $7 beer? I mean, I thought we were in a recession. You probably had to mortgage your children just to afford tickets! How are you getting drunk on beer that’s that expensive? Seriously. Priorities, people!

Now I gotta work on those Bruce Springsteen tickets…

Also too, one of my dream trips: going to Japan with The Killers.

A Sunset for the Sunfire

I’ve had two cars in my lifetime. When I was gifted my license at the tender age of 16, I was gifted too with the family’s green Jeep Cherokee. In retrospect this was a hell of a car and I would love to have it now but I hated it at the time. The radio didn’t work. All I could get was the AM band, thus deepening my appreciation for classic country and talk radio. Most of the gages failed to work either. The speedometer needle started getting shaky after 50 mph, so I usually had to guess how fast I was going. And the fuel gage always registered half a tank so I had to use the Force to sense when I thought gas was running low. And yet is still passed inspection. All this on top of the fact that we had this car when we were kids and already trashed it.

Eventually, I managed to spill gasoline all over the back seat while mowing lawns one summer and I couldn’t get the smell out. This was “Straw That Broke the Camel’s Back” One. Then, the driver’s side door started to come unhinged. It wouldn’t shut all the way, and the “door ajar” buzzer never shut off unless I placed the latch in just the right spot. One day, the buzzing got so incessant that, as I was pulling into the Gatesville United Methodist Church parking lot (on my way to some fantastic adventure in Jesusland, I’m sure), I shoved my hand towards the door and attempted to slam it as best I could. Well, the door came off in my arm. And then I dropped it. And then I ran over it. All as friends watched.

My parents decided it was time that I have a new car. Now, they didn’t get rid of the Jeep. They actually kept it and gave it to my brother, who proceeded to trash it like the victim of domestic abuse. I have no idea where the car is now. I assume it’s at the bottom of Lake Belton (the Lake Travis of the Waco-Temple-Killeen area).

But onto the new car. One summer day, as I returned from band camp in the school van, there, sitting in my driveway, was a brand new 2001 white Pontiac Sunfire. Now, I know it’s not the best car in the world. And why my parents got me white instead of, you know, BLUE like everything else I own, I don’t know. I wasn’t about to go all My Super Sweet 16 on them. Truth be told, I could not have been happier. After the Jeep, this was like a Roles Royce. As it was my high school graduation present, I thanked them profusely.

So began a seven-year, love-hate life together. And, to be honest, it was mostly love. The thing got hella-great gas milage. And while it had a few problems, it never flat out broke down on me (but more on that in a sec). The car and I have been through a lot together. High school. 9/11. College. Ice Storm ‘07. Arm Storm ‘08. Actual Storm ‘08 (still has dents on the roof). Smell Storm ‘08. And all sorts of adventures up and down I-35 (seriously, I like never travel further than 40 miles from the interstate, and have never lived more than 40 miles from it. What’s wrong?).

Last week, my completely smart sister Jill got into a car accident. I’ll spare you, and her, the details, but she’s okay. However, she managed to total her Pontiac Vibe going 30 mph on Bridge Street in Gatesville (Bridge Street is to Gatesville as Lamar is to Austin; the road connects you to just about everything but isn’t THE road. Actually, it’s probably more like Burnet. This aside has gone on for too long). My parents decide that they are getting a new car, they want to give me my dad’s old car, and that Jill will get the Sunfire. By the way, my parents purchased a Buick Lucerne, the same car my grandparents drive. They are now officially “olds.” When I confronted my mom about “one foot being in the grave,” she told me, “I don’t care! It’s comfortable!”

And just like that, suddenly, I no longer drive the car that I have driven for almost eight years and 75,000 miles (remember my driving radius). I am now the proud owner (?) of a Pontiac G6 (are you seeing the theme for my family?). Like the Jeep before it, I kinda don’t know what speed I’m going. With the Sunfire, I had to practically floor it so it would get to 60. Plus, it started shaking uncontrollably when it got to 70 and screamed like a cheap whore somewhere around 80. Point is, I had a pretty good idea what my speed was. With the G6 (the 6 stands for 6-cylinder), I can’t tell if I’m going 30 or 90. 90 was what I was going as I drove back to Austin this weekend. I had no idea. The car wasn’t shaking. It wasn’t talking back to me. And it doesn’t smell like rotten egg salad (which, sorry to say Ashley, is not a pheromone).

It was a little bittersweet cleaning out the Sunfire on Saturday. I mean, I was kinda happy to be rid of it. But I came across all sorts of things in the glove compartment, which apparently I had NEVER bothered to clean. I found old parking tickets from UT (ahhh, the Jester “loading” zone).  Numerous “C” parking permits. I found mix CDs that I had made all the way back in high school. There was my first (and only) speeding ticket, followed by about 40 warnings of various sorts. No gloves (I think there’s a Death Cab lyric that applies to this maybe kinda sorta?). I won’t say I got emotional, since the drugs that turned me into a woman have long since gone and I am back to being my crabby, cynical self. But I did pause to think.

Overall, I’d say a pretty good trade? And how did Jill fare? Well, she wasn’t initially excited about getting the car (did I mention the smell?), but she warmed up to it. I think she was just excited to get something to drive after being wheel-less for an entire week. When she returned to San Marcos, a hose burst and the engine overheated. She had to take it into the shop where it will cost her (and by her I mean my parents) $500. I got rid of that thing just in time! Oh, that Sunfire! Always acting the fool!

And now that I have a brand new shiny car, maybe I can get around to getting some of that ass everyone’s been talking about.

And a lot (like, 5) people searched for Chris Redfield. So here’s a Photoshopped picture of Chris Redfield and a Sunfire I did on my lunch break. Chris Redfield.

That’s not my car. And I do not yet look like that…

On Running: Seriously, Why Do This to Yourself?

New year, new resolutions to break. I told myself I wasn’t going to make any, cause they are cliched and get broken way too easily, or if I did, I would wait until the Chinese New Year or something. You know, just to make it interesting. Now that I have the XBox 360, my natural instinct is to stay home, play games all day and, you know, shun society and the sun and all that stuff. So screw resolutions, unless that resolution is to play more games.

But I went to the doctor today, saw what I had done to myself over the holidays, and immediately made plans to start running again. I mean, seriously. He told me that the weight gain was a good thing, that it meant that some problems I was having earlier were nothing serious and that I was still at a good, healthy level. And that it was all holiday weight and would probably go away on its won. But what the hell does he know? That quack! He told me I should just walk, that running might be going overboard, but he obviously never went to med school! Doesn’t he know I’m 25 now and that every calorie I eat goes straight to my mancakes (what the hell is this term, btw)? I was actually impressed when I came in under-weight, cause I got to eat whatever I wanted (and before anyone says I’m anorexic, two questions: have you seen me and have you seen me eat?). He also told me that I wore the weight well. This flattered me, considering we had got to third base or something the last time I visited him.

Anyway.

And in case anyone was wondering/cares, I don’t have cancer. Or the herp. Or rosacea. I’m apparently just a hypochondriac.

So, it’s back to running. Some people hate it, but I actually kinda like it. It saves me wasting money on a gym membership I probably won’t use, and I get to explore! Now, I’m not exactly one of those people who can rip off like eight miles in the morning. Those people are douches. I take my time, slow down when I want to, walk around a bit, pet dogs, pick flowers, and the like. And when I feel like it, I start running again, even if it’s only for a couple of blocks.

And I get a lot of good thinking in when I run. It’s kinda like when you go to bed and you have all these great ideas for what you are going to do the next day or for the rest of your life. In those few moments before sleep, you have it all figured out. You’ve solved the Middle East crisis, the meaning of life, the existence of a higher being, figured out how to get a new job (insert oxford comma) and plotted out that novel. When you wake up in the morning, it’s like you’re a child again. You just want to sleep. You’re thinking, “Like hell I’m gonna do that thing! And fuck the Middle East! And that book is going to be stupid! I don’t want to bathe today… just sleep.”

Well, when you run, you have all those before-sleep thoughts but, instead of falling asleep right after, you have the day/evening ahead of you. So those great plans you have, you can actually do something about them. Running today, I resolved to blog. And now look at me!

Now, I’m also a bit hesitant to start running. First off, I can’t just come home and pass out like I usually do. Second, it’s still cold and dark when I get home. The dark I don’t mind so much, but the cold? Fuck that. And lastly, the last few times I went through a running kick, I stopped not cause I “fell off the wagon,” but because tragedy struck. A few years ago a family member died and I couldn’t bring myself to run. And last time, I “fell off the roof” as opposed to the wagon and didn’t want to run in my cast. And when the cast was off, I was just lazy.

Despite the fact that I’m kinda sick, that weight measurement just did not sit well with me, and I came home and ran. And I did a pretty good job for being off the roof for so long. I almost made it to the hospital! And that’s “hospital” as in a physical location, not cause I had a heart attack. And if I did have a heart attack, I would not go to THAT hospital. St. David’s. Just let me die instead! I managed to run/walk for over an hour, even without my iPod (you see, the earbuds would not stay in my ears, that’s how fat I am).

And do you notice that hot people run? And fat-asses that are supposedly getting into shape but will quit in about a week when they open the freezer and see that ice cream and then proceed to eat the whole thing while crying and listening to “Fix You.” But hot people too! Trust me, you say you can’t run or don’t like to run? Get behind a nice ass. Yeah.

Anyway.

If there’s anything I would like this blog to do, it would be to encourage you, the reader, to become a better person. So I invite you to run. Just try it out. You don’t have to go all out, I certainly don’t. You get to explore your neighborhood, feel good about yourself, and look at hot people (extra bonus if you live next to UT as I do). And if you don’t like it, there’s always that Blue Bell in the fridge.

And my Chinese New Year’s resolution is not just to run, but to get fit as well. This might take me some time. I’m gonna run first, deal with the weight thing, and then see what I can do about sculpting my body into a timeless work of art. I might have some trouble with the weights, seeing as how I can’t even lift a can of Diet Coke with my left hand without screaming “Mein Leiben!”, but we’ll see. At least I made the resolution, what did you do? And in twelve months, when I look AMAZING, you can say you knew me when. Or in twelve months, when I’ve grown two pant sizes, broken my other arm, and gotten cast in the John Goodman biopic (as John Goodman. Or maybe Rosanne Barr), you can pity me and my optimism. My goal is to look like Chris Redfield from the upcoming Resident Evil 5:

Who says I have unrealistic expectations? I want trees for arms! And how would you like to run behind that?

Anyway.

I’ll probably stop running when Resident Evil 5 comes out.

My 11 Favorite Video Games of All Time (Because I Have ABSOLUTELY Nothing Better to Do and Nothing Is Going On At Work)

 

This is the time of year when people, such as bloggers, do end of year lists. They tell you their favorite movie of the year (The Dark Knight), their favorite music (Viva La Vida and “Single Ladies”), their favorite University of Texas quarterback (Oh My God, yall!), and all that stuff. Well, I don’t want to do that. I would like to take this opportunity to do something else.

Word on the street is, we’re in a recession. Every industry is doing pretty much terribly. Except video games, which are apparently recession proof. Taken to its logical conclusion, this means that in several years the only thing left to do will be to play video games (can I get a what, what?). So you had better brush up on your knowledge, right? Allow me to help!

Now, I don’t want to go crazy here and start making a lot of lists on this blog cause A) they’re stupid, B) it’s a cheap way to provide content and C) I think many people have the same favorite movies/books/marsupials/whatevers that the lists don’t create enough controversy. But I’ve been playing A LOT of video games lately, for whatever reason. And, since I have absolutely nothing else to post about, I’m going to tell you about my 11 favorite video games of all time. You’re still reading so you really can’t complain.

A few things about the list before I start. First, it’s not the world’s most groundbreaking list. There should not be too many surprises here for anyone who has more than a passing knowledge of the world’s most fascinating art medium (yeah, I said art! I’ll get to that later). Second, there are 11. Top 10 lists are boring. Third, I limited myself to one pick per franchise so the list would not be overrun with Mario games. HOWEVER, in the case of my top two, there is no way I can decide on which game in this certain franchise (can you guess which one?!?) I liked best. So I put both on here. And that’s another reason there are 11. Finally, I realized that there are no NES games on here. At first, I thought “WTF mate?” Without the franchise rule, several would have made it. But the closest NES game that would make the list without containing the words “Mario” or “Zelda” in the title is Contra, and I can’t even beat that without the Konami Code. So I didn’t include it.

And yes, I am this big a dork. The following list confirms it.