Tuesday, September 22, 2009

paradise: lost

I never wrote about my honeymoon I think.

I'm just going to share a picture from the hotel we stayed at right now, and maybe post a write-up later this week.
Could be the project my wife wants me to do. (apparently freeing Mars isn't a big enough project for her. Fascist.)

Monday, September 21, 2009

odds and ends

Red Faction: Guerrilla is awesome.
You're essentially the Taliban of Mars. The goal isn't suicide bombing, but I'm so miserable at this game I'd be better off if I COULD blow myself up on purpose. As it is, the tank shells are doing that job for me.

The single player game plays (and has been called) Grand Theft Auto: Mars.
The major difference is (and I guess it's actually the Red Faction franchise's "signature") everything can be blown up, sledgehammered, or run over.
Buildings on stilts that may as well be in Malibu - remote charge on each strut, run to a safe distance, detonate and watch the whole god-damn thing slide down the mountain. (then if you're me, try holding off the response force until they hit me in the face with a tank round)

I'd recommend taking it for a spin, lots of fun.

In non-video gaming news, I accepted a position at a company TEN MINUTES from my house, that has an average start time around 9:30 AM. I'm not mentioning names or anything since this is not supposed to relate AT ALL to my professional computer side, but I'm very excited.
My commute is moving from 2.5 hours a day (normal traffic) to .5 hours (bad traffic).
I'm looking for a bike this week so I can start biking to work like I was in high school again. (maybe get my fat IT ass into shape)
So yay me, I'm very excited.

Not much else going on. MSU Spartans disappointed me sorely from South Bend this weekend, but I got to see friends I haven't seen since the wedding. Mixed bag, that. Great friends, team so shitty I'm embarassed to wear the gear.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Getting Old

Everybody ages. Few do it gracefully, it seems.
I just saw a show air a whole piece on the plastic surgery Sylvester Stallone's bought for his mug. It troubled me on a couple levels:
  1. Why was Stallone's face considered newsworthy on ANY show? Stallone was like the bad Ahnold copycat.Rambo was Stallone's Commando, Demolition Man was his Total Recall, and Rocky was his Kindergarten Cop. (just kidding. The abortion "Stop or My Mom Will Shoot" was K Cop's doppelganger) Maybe I guess we're talking about him because of some oblique connection to America's Health Care - if rationing is imposed, who will fix Rocky's face for Rocky: Seniors Tour?
  2. I was struck by the saying, "Kill your idols" - the piece not only considered Stallone's work newsworthy, but did n the style you would expect for war crimes. Guilt was implicit, his condemnation preordained. It was one of those, "Jesus, I don't think I want to be famous" moments. Let me fall apart due to aging in private indignity.
Because I've been aging. I turned 34 this year. I'm not suffering crippling bone marrow loss or liver spots all over my body. My degradation is subtle. It's the clock in your car that stops holding onto the time, and only flashes 12:00. Your car runs fine, you can play music, nothing's really broken . . . nothing that matters anyway.
I fear what starts to go early lends insight to the kind of old person you'll become. If you start retelling stories. . . you'll end up as Abe Simpson.
I've started forgetting about my fly. I've gone sometimes half the day with it not only open, but wide open. I've been alerted to the fact more than once by a stiff breeze hitting me just right, and shame floods my soul.
Just this morning, I walked around with it down half the morning. My wife doesn't even tell me anymore (I suspect foul play).
This foreshadowing is ominous; it doesn't indicate I'll be the grandpa who hands out candies to his grandchildren, or tells boring stories that lend insight to the wacky times we live in.
This foreshadows me on the porch, paunchy and half crazed, wearing boxers and a robe with no shame at all. Yelling at cars to slow down and watch out for cats.

Admittedly, the signs could be much worse. I've only defecated as an adult when drinking has been involved.
So there's always that.

Friday, September 4, 2009

back in the saddle . . .

So I've been performing the last couple of weeks. Not much (still have a wife!) but a number greater than zero performances a week.

And I'm running into the same god damn problem I've run into every single time:
the things that make my comedy great is its subversive nature.
Truth-telling.

These ideals are orthogonal to Job Hunts and Corporate Employment.
It's neo-Orwellian these days, particularly with the tight employment market.

Here's an excerpt from a fun interview I had earlier this week:
*in the midst of salary discussions*
Them: "This position is contract to hire."
Me: "So W-2, or do you mean 1099?" (for the uninitiated, these are two tax classifications)
Them: "1099"
1099 means completely independent contractor and therefore certain "tests" apply to determine the legal status. The primary test is this: 1099s get to come and go as they please. If you're legally a 1099, you can show up when the fuck ever.
Naturally, this is my follow-up question.
Me: "So they don't mind if I set my own hours? I'm going to work 11 am to 7 pm for them."
Them: "Oh you can't do that, they'd want you starting at a specific time."
Me: "Then this isn't very legal, now, is it? Sounds to me like they're trying to save 7.5% on social security taxes."
Them: "I think this interview is over."

No shit, you fucking rapacious vultures.
Speaking of vultures - Them Crooked Vultures is a new supergroup you should check into. The best part is their new tour they said "fuck you" to New York City and skipped them entirely.
<nelson>ha ha!</nelson>

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

ever since instituting a draft policy

I instituted a draft policy recently, where I survey posts prior to putting them on the internets.
This is mainly to reduce the use of Yet Another Public Apology as a tag.

The problem is I'm not publishing a fair amount of things.
It's amazing what you do when thinking of career.

I guess I'm a sell-out to the man.