world's worst car names
prod test: pretzel m&ms
the dominican republic
titus andronicus @ maxwell's
miles kurosky @ mercury lounge
dinosaur jr. @ bowery ballroom
be your own dj
big apple circus
greatest actor of his gen.
why sirius/xm will fail
the 2nd worst block in nyc
prod. tes: dentyne blast
tokyo police club
the antichrist goes home
bubba's secret campaign
celeb sighting 8: steve schirripa
the police @ msg
celeb sighting 7: andrew mccarthy
puerto vallarta, mexico
kurt vonnegut: r.i.p.
worst boss ever
best purchase ever
montclair: hipster central
the cali roadtrip
celeb sighting 6: rupaul
product 1: diet coke w/ splenda
cell phone headsets
casualties of war
celeb sighting 5: max kellerman
deus ex: invisible war
the weakest fortune ever
celeb sighting 4: christina aguilera
the six flags guy
celeb sighting 3: len berman
celeb sighting 2: christena pyle
max payne 2
celeb sighting 1: amber valletta
st. thomas, usvi
mr. hipster goes domestic
the danger of googling
why i love whitney matheson
joe strummer tribute show
london part deux
new jersey state fair
lake george, ny
ford motor company
look kids, parliament
tuesdays with morrie
the blogger bash
the geniuses at fox
the blvd of porn & trinkets
the ugly bar
fat loss miracle
the free gift
5: max kellerman
ex: invisible war
weakest fortune ever
sighting 4: christina aguilera
Now I'm starting to recognize celebs I don't even
recognize. I know that makes about as much sense as me even mentioning
this hump, but when I saw him on his cell phone outside the port authority,
I couldn't help but think: "now this guy must be someone!"
Yeah, the little guy with the boyband beard and the wiseguy smirk
actually has an interesting story. He apparently had his
own boxing public access show when he was a teenager, which he
somehow parlayed into a show on ESPN 2 and a career in boxing commentary.
Okay, it's not that interesting--and he seems to have had the longevity
of that Squirt
TV kid's show--but his annoying voice will resonate forever. I'm
not sure what this greasy monkey is up to now, but I'm sure he's somewhere
Holyfield a washed up old hack.
So I decided to be a smartass and order a Makers
Mark Manhattan at Dylan Prime. I love the city, after all, so
how bad can the drink be? As it turns out, it can be pretty fucking
horrendous. Who knew a martini made entirely of Maker's
Mark bourbon would be disgusting? Never has a booze experiment
gone so wrong--that is since the great gin
rickey placemat debacle of 1998. The thing kinda tasted how I
would imagine a glass full of cool Windex would taste. I'm glad for
the shiny esophagus and stomach, but how or why anyone would find
this concoction tasty is beyond me. Granted, I'm not a 93-year-old
man, but shouldn't booze, and the Manhattan in particular, be accessible
to all? Why does William Faulkner get to enjoy the sweet, sweet nectar,
when it turns to vinegar in my mouth?
I'm done experimenting with booze. I'm going to stick to my Kettle
Ones and soda. I'm sticking to beer. Maybe I'll hit the Jack occasionally.
But, Lord, I'm done ordering anything named after a city, a person
or an animal.
I have very little allegiance to video games. In
fact, back in the day, I was the little kid watching Ricky
Schroder play Red
Baron at the Sherman Oaks Galleria because I was too cheap to
throw down a quarter to play another game of Tempest
Dug. I mean, a quarter's a lot for three minutes of entertainment
and a possible thumb blister. The best thing that ever happened to
me was the U.S.
vs. U.S.S.R. Bubble Hockey Game. That thing lasted forever, provided
serious competition, and didn't deteriorate your brain or make you
want to shoot up your junior high. You want to waste your time playing
Lair or Star
Wars? Be my guest. I'm going to stick to self-contained games
that don't take my entire allowance to get through. And so starts
my adventure with home computer games. Think about it; there's one
flat fee for the things, you can save your progress whenever you want,
and there isn't some asshole kid with sticky shit all over his face
asking you when you're going to be done.
And so begins my video gaming in the post Intellivision,
SE era. I don't do it a lot, and was just rewarded with an Xbox
late last year for being a good son-in-law, but I did start as a PC
game guy. And my favorite game I ever played was the original Deus
Ex. Unlike those basic games I wrote in fourth grade, one didn't
have to follow a distinct pattern in order to accomplish goals and
finish the game. I had free will! Well, sort of. In any case, the
thing was fun, different and really passed the time when the girlfriend
was out of town on business.
And as nerdy as it sounds, I was looking forward to the new Deus Ex
coming out. I mean, not the same way I was looking forward to sleeping
with a woman prior to actually doing it, or the way I look forward
to Saturdays, but more in the way I look forward to buying a new book
I read good things about in some snobby article somewhere. So I got
my Xbox all warmed up and ready to go. Not having to hit keyboard
keys in order to reload and move and whatnot would be a welcome thing,
as I'm about as dexterous with that as waitress in the grips of drug
withdrawal. I fired the thing up, picked up the awkward Microsoft
controller and went to work.
There were the usual gang of aliens, freaks, bums,
and dudes who just want to put a million holes in you. Basically you
are a modified human trying to solve the world's problems. There are
several factions vying for your allegiance, including a religious
sect, the Templars, the Illuminati, a multi-national organization,
and even the dude you played as in the first Deus Ex. The cool thing
is that you get to choose who you want to support and do jobs for.
You can play all the angles, and do favors to receive money and preferred
treatment from all sorts of folks. All your decisions have repercussions,
though, as screwing over one faction may really piss them off and
have them gunning for you down the road. Being an only child, I chose
to go rogue and just kill everyone who asked for my help. I figured
they were all evil and had ulterior motives. I can't say that lead
to the best result, but let's just say that real estate is probably
really cheap just about everywhere now.
what the hell are you looking
The graphics were pretty damn cool, and the gameplay was relatively
smooth, but the AI--as the kids call it--was the worst since Berzerk.
I know you're supposed to be able to hide in the shadows or make yourself
harder to see if you're crouched, but I would literally be five feet
from some guard and he's sitting there asking, "Who's there?"
Uh, it's me, the guy sitting right in front of you with the giant
gun aimed at your head. The guard then stands there and gives up and
says something like, "Huh, I guess it was my imagination"
and continues on his way. I then shoot him in the back, spit on his
corpse and take whatever ammo he has. I did manage to die about 8,000
times, so the AI couldn't have been completely horrible, but it certainly
could have been a lot smarter.
Regardless of its shortcomings, the game has a really cool feel to
it, and creates a pretty awesome world that allows you to follow your
own course and determine your own future. In other words, somebody
actually put some effort into the storyline, even if it does become
a bit convoluted and overly-cerebral at times. There are some changes
from the first game in terms of gameplay, but due to my terrible ADD
and lack if a short-term memory, the only thing I noticed was that
the ammo you pick up can be used by any weapon. Again, kind of unrealistic,
but whatever. All in all, I enjoyed the game very much and can't wait
to see how they bring back all these elements for the third installment
after I pretty much blew up the world.
i'm still waiting for that callback
from the x-files folks
I don't generally take my cues from fortune cookies,
or believe they impart wonderful dollops of wisdom, but this has to
be the weakest "fortune" of all time.
The odd part is that the thing is exactly right! I do love
Chinese food! I hereby change my opinion about the extra-sensory powers
of the mighty fortune cookie. I mean, how could they possibly know
that I love the tasty MSG-tinged nuggets of chicken and veggies that
are so cheap for lunch and so easy for dinner? They must have seen
my application to the JCC,
or rummaged through my garbage for that Tay-Sachs
test I took way back when. There are probably pictures of me from
third grade gnawing on a Peking duck leg on Christmas Eve (right after
for the fifth time). In other words, my people are genetically predisposed
to loving the grub from the East, just as Republicans
are predisposed to bouts of evil-based stupidity and a complete lack
of compassion and common sense. (Yes, I'm talking about you, Dick!)
Anyway, whoever this poor five-year-old child is who is sitting in
some straw hut in the Qinghai Province penning these pearls in her
own blood, I want her to know that she has touched me with her intuition
and cute, little smiley faces. Oh, and I hit on those lottery numbers,
so I'll be buying two first-class tickets to China to buy a few crates
of really good Rolex
fakes. See you there, little Zhang!
So, I've finally beaten the jinx of the weak-ass
celebrity sightings! Or have I? What kind of props do I get for spotting
one slightly worn-out, slutty diva? What do I get for spotting her
at a meat market like Houston's?
Does it mean as much if a friend actually saw her first and pointed
her out? Does it diminish the coolness if I craned my neck and exclaimed,
"Are you out of your fuckin' mind? That chick is in her fifties and
completely bizarre looking?"
This is basically what I saw sitting in the booth, but way more orange.
She had the same exact blonde, curly mess going on, but her skin was
an odd orange color that I can only associate with fake baking--although
this looked more like she took a trip to the Cheetos
factory and made out with Chester Cheetah. The Betty
Boop look was also very, um, strange, and I couldn't help but
think that the thing on her head had to be a wig.
I obviously haven't kept up with my Christina
news in the past five years, as I was still under the impression
she looked like a blonde version of Jennifer Aniston. What the hell
happened to her? Look at most of your teenage celebs out there. They
generally start off cute and fuzzy and then transition into cute and
sexy. Then, maybe they start shaking some ass or appear in a pillow-fight
scene in their underwear (or in a wet t-shirt kissing an upside-down
Spiderman). Then they realize the error of their ways, and want to
be taken as a serious artist, so they start wearing sweater-sets,
go to India to pet some starving children (with Entertainment
Tonight in tow), or get arrested protesting an animal testing
lab with PETA.
It's not until much later, when several of their albums and/or movies
tank that they start entertaining the offers from Playboy (which by
that point doesn't want them), and they end up living out their days
as the spurned lover in late night Cinemax
movies with Marc
Roberts and Jeff
Fahey. Apparently Aguilera skipped that whole process and went
directly to weird, Dracula sextoy.
"Why can I still see my reflection?"