I'm A Creep

And a weirdo, too. As if that were some sort of surprise.

 I'm kind of in love with the empty world in the dark hours. I can also imagine that the cops aren't in love with me, when my morbid curiosity takes me past the multi-million dollar mansions on the white-collar side of town at 3 a.m.. The black hoodie and backpack really sell the I'm-Not-Into-Trouble look, I'm sure. I've been wandering more than usual at the wee hours of the morning these last few weeks. Chalk it up to mild guilt over plunking down the equivalent of a new laptop on a new bicycle, and really comfortable sneakers that beg for walking

Last weekend provided me with a real gem, after I'd wandered for the better part of seven hours and stopped for a moment by the lake:

Melancholy morning, for the win.

O Perilous World

August and I clearly aren't seeing eye to eye on things. A flat can of Coke greeted my Wednesday morning, Thursday brought forth a flooded bathroom and a botched pipe, Friday kicked a football into the hood of my brand new vehicle, and now the worst offense of the lot:

Is that pink ink covering my hand (and not-pictured leg)? Absolutely. Is that pink ink coming off? Absolutely not.

Let this be a lesson learned: don't mess with the printer at 3 o'clock in the morning and expect to emerge unscathed. The only thing that makes me feel modestly better is looking at the kewlest Xbox evah.

I feel kind of bad that I sold my soul for that PS2 all those years ago, cause I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to hawk something in order to afford such ridiculous glory.

My Soul For A Rez

It hasn't really been ten months, has it?

It has?!

Oh my.

Just after The Great Move, a myriad of dramatic and unfortunate things happened, most of which I'll leave off these digital spaces for reasons of both discretion and respect for the privacy of others. As such, I was left a little unsure of what to say about much of anything after all that, so I fell back to the maxim. "Silence is golden".

In any case, I stand (or rather, lounge lazily on the couch) here, ready to make my triumphant return to the outer reaches of the interwebs, content to bleat my nerd ramblings out to an empty room. Be prepared, nonexistant readers:

The nerd is back.

(Insert Dr. Vortex maniacal laugh here)

Dead Space(s)

Moving week!

Friday heralds the relocation to Dungeon 2.0. In the interim, whilst most of my crap is sitting in little coffins of recycled cardboard, I've been occupying the hours with Dead Space. It's one of the several games that have been sitting on the Unplayed Shelf because of my broken EliteBox. Kinslayer has been humming along like a green-cyclop'd dream, and I've found that I rather enjoy the dismembering of alien monsters. I didn't dig the control scheme much at first-it deviates from the shooters I'm used to, but it's grown on me. Like Postulio from Invader Zim.

POSTUUUUULIO!!!

(Nerd reference can be found here.)

On the topic of nerd references, and the lingering thought of my relocation, I've found a few things that would go perfectly in the new place. Some are more likely to actually find themselves there than others:

* A Computer Board coffee table. Really, a perfect accent to the home of any T-1000.

* Best. Pizza. Cutter. Ever. Make it so!

* Biker couch. Or, seating-for-expensive-bastards.

* l337 NES bedspread.

* Voodoo knife holder. (I actually bought this. Resistance was futile. O_o )

Ah, to be a nerd.

Until later, non-existent readers. Live long and prosper. Or something.

Buzz Kill

I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm totally ready for the zombie apocalypse:

I swear I'm not a redneck.

In other news, I got an apartment (holy crap?!?)! I won't lie, I'm pretty stoked, but more on that another day. For now, let us all just gaze lovingly at the Jonsered riding shotgun, and wait for the undead to rise.

My Soul For A Shotgun

I'm plagiarizing myself and ripping a small bit of this from a forum post I made earlier. Potentially, that's lame of me. Potentially, I'm a lazy wench, and don't care. *smirk*

Because zombies seem to be a theme with me lately, I've just finished the first volume/trade of The Walking Dead by Robert Kirkman. I really can't say enough about this book. It was fantastic, and works as a standalone if you don't want to read the other 12 + volumes in the series. It follows a cop named Rick, who wakes up from a coma in a hospital, alone, only to discover that zombies are afoot. The story focuses on his struggle to find survivors, and the psychological toll taken in the midst of losing everything.

You should also give this a serious look for the art. The artist, Tony Moore, really went to town here. Each panel is mesmerizing to look at, and his knack for conveying subtle emotion right along with the innards of a decaying corpse is impressive. I spent several minutes looking at each page, trying to catch all of the small details. Really, it's that good.

I also partly blame The Walking Dead for the awesome dream I had the other day. The zombie apocalypse happened, and the dream followed Jill Valentine in the midst of some conspiracy, and two really annoying guys that I'd seen at George Webb's the night before somewhere else in the world. There was a quest for shotguns, and a really dismal outlook on life in general. I wasn't anywhere in the dream, though, which was weird. Dreams like that make me wish we could DVR our brains.

Someday......

Avast, Punching Bag!

Ahoy, all.

The last three weeks have been a Hellish spiral of increasing disaster, which left me shell shocked enough to swear of most of the world (and Internet) for awhile. Having pulled myself from that abyss of Whatever just in time to have the car break down at five in the morning yesterday, I can't help but to snicker a bit at Life's wicked sense of humor. Fuck you too, Fates.

Enough of that, though.

I just finished reading "Red Seas Under Red Skies," by Scott Lynch. It's a sequel to "The Lies of Locke Lamora", and it's absolutely one of the best books I've read in a long while. It's a bit Oceans Eleven meets Pirates of the Caribbean, with a little twist of Lord of the Rings thrown in. I entirely enthralled by Lynch's ability to write witty dialogue, and seriously, I'd hawk a few souls to have a similar talent. Consider that my glowing recommendation. You know, as much as anything in my world can "glow."

Speaking of talents and my world glowing, epic kudos to Jason David Frank (originally the Green Ranger from Mighty Morphin Power Rangers) for absolutely owning his first Pro MMA match against Jose Vasquez this week. Remind me never to get on his bad side. Yikes.