After picking up a faulty Timesplitters2 disc from the video store, I got a credit for a free game rental. Against all odds I grabbed Virtua Fighter 4. Now, I owned Virtua Fighter 1 on Sega Saturn (and eventually Virtua Fighter 2, but I’ll get to that later) and I played the crap out of it. The graphics were shitty by today’s standards, but it was the first 3d fighting game, and also the first in a long time to involve no “magic” attacks. Yep, no fireballs or flying, just hard hitting, realistically portrayed martial arts moves. Fun freakin’ times. Later, I picked up Virtua Fighter 2 and never played the first one again. Same gameplay, MUCH improved graphics and the addition of Shun-di (an old drunken-style kung fu master, funny shit) and Lion, a cocky-as-hell French Praying Mantis style… guy, who rapidly became my new favourite.
Anyway.
New one. Graphics are Tekken-level, each character has several “stances” where the same combinations produce different attacks, and I am loving it. My thumb is hurting already and it’s only been a day. Plus they’ve added a Shaolin monk guy who doesn’t attack much. He lets you attack, then deflects it and hurts you. A lot. Although there is a downside. The graphics got better, but the bottom dropped out on the vocal work. Lion sounds like Wheelie for Transformers, or Igner, Mom’s youngest son from Futurama. Did you lot learn nothing from SSX Tricky? At least bring in Bif Naked, David Arquette and Billy Zane to record!
But I can put up with it to watch Lion leap onto someone’s back, strike their eyes, throat, and break their neck.
What?!? I’m portraying my geek status for all to see!
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Friday, June 10, 2005
Reposted from a comment in Caz's blog, and inspired by Tanja's The-Models-inspired rambling...
"I'm going to buck the trend... and talk not about evil people, but about my an-again-off-again love affair with Green Day. Yeah.
The first album I ever bought with my own money was Dookie, by Green Day. And as you do at thirteen, you memorize every track. I recall attempting to drum along to Burnout, and tiring the crap out of my weedy little arms (call Tre Cool unfancy if you like, but for a non-metal and non-Neal Pert-drummer, the bastard isquick.) I had taped tapes of my friends' Kerplunk and 1033 Smoothed Out Slappy Hours. I snapped up Insomniac right away, and did likewise (Brain Stew-Jaded forshadowing my love of songs that switch styles smoothly). Unfortunately, I hit a poor streak shortly before Nimrod came out, so couldn't buy it. My flatmate in the twelfth grade had it, so I didn't stress, but I had broken my Green Day buying streak. I watched Warning go by, though I heard the singles on the radio, and scoffed at International Superhits as a money-grab (I hate greatest hits compilations with no new material, except "poprocks and coke" and "maria"), until American Idiot came out. I had downloaded the title track, and thought it not bad, and then badgered Tanja to get it with her staff discount. Of course, Borders being bastards who raise prices, it was still too much, discount included, for a casual buy. Spotted it at Fish Records, snapped it up, and loved it immediately. Stand-out tracks: Boulevard of Broken Dreams (I know it's been played to death, but I like it, damnit), and especially Jesus of Suburbia and Homecoming (I have a weakness for Broadway-musical-type style changes. I blame Mom forcing me to listen to Les Miserables when I was young). This album actually makes me wish I could still sing along with Billie Joe (stupid hormones) without my voice breaking.
Now, I know Green Day aren't considered cool anymore (I don't buy all this "yer-a-sell-out-i-you-can-sing-AND-afford-a-meal" garbage), but I likes them. I actually snagged Nimrod for $9.95 at JB two days ago while buying the new Flogging Molly album (which Borders said wasn't distributed in Australia. HA! Gout la lime!).
The second week I was at Borders, a harried looking Westie Mom type came bustling in holding a little girl and a giant Boost Juice and corralled me while shelving and asked for the new Good Charlotte album. I pointed her in the right direction, and returned to shelving. She found it, came back to me, holding Green Day's Insomniac album and asking "Is this the new one?" I chuckled and said, "Well, no. The new one is American Idiot, although this is a decent one. Who's it for? Are they after a certain track, or anything by this band." She looked offended (sorry, honey, you don't look like the Berkeley Punk type with your stretch pants and puffa jacket), and said "It's for my thirteen-year-old son." I found her American Idiot, though sent her off with a strong recommendation for the band.
It was only after she left that it hit me that the first CD I'd just recommended to a thirteen-year-old a CD by the band who made the first CD I'd ever bought as a thirteen-year-old. I felt ancient. Old. But also kind of cool that the cycle of rock was rolling on. Heh. Ok, that last line was a bit cheesy.
Whew. Didn't mean to write this much. Actually, I may put this into my Blog as a new entry. Hooray for lazy!"
And I did! I am Lazy-Man! Fear my wrath!
The first album I ever bought with my own money was Dookie, by Green Day. And as you do at thirteen, you memorize every track. I recall attempting to drum along to Burnout, and tiring the crap out of my weedy little arms (call Tre Cool unfancy if you like, but for a non-metal and non-Neal Pert-drummer, the bastard isquick.) I had taped tapes of my friends' Kerplunk and 1033 Smoothed Out Slappy Hours. I snapped up Insomniac right away, and did likewise (Brain Stew-Jaded forshadowing my love of songs that switch styles smoothly). Unfortunately, I hit a poor streak shortly before Nimrod came out, so couldn't buy it. My flatmate in the twelfth grade had it, so I didn't stress, but I had broken my Green Day buying streak. I watched Warning go by, though I heard the singles on the radio, and scoffed at International Superhits as a money-grab (I hate greatest hits compilations with no new material, except "poprocks and coke" and "maria"), until American Idiot came out. I had downloaded the title track, and thought it not bad, and then badgered Tanja to get it with her staff discount. Of course, Borders being bastards who raise prices, it was still too much, discount included, for a casual buy. Spotted it at Fish Records, snapped it up, and loved it immediately. Stand-out tracks: Boulevard of Broken Dreams (I know it's been played to death, but I like it, damnit), and especially Jesus of Suburbia and Homecoming (I have a weakness for Broadway-musical-type style changes. I blame Mom forcing me to listen to Les Miserables when I was young). This album actually makes me wish I could still sing along with Billie Joe (stupid hormones) without my voice breaking.
Now, I know Green Day aren't considered cool anymore (I don't buy all this "yer-a-sell-out-i-you-can-sing-AND-afford-a-meal" garbage), but I likes them. I actually snagged Nimrod for $9.95 at JB two days ago while buying the new Flogging Molly album (which Borders said wasn't distributed in Australia. HA! Gout la lime!).
The second week I was at Borders, a harried looking Westie Mom type came bustling in holding a little girl and a giant Boost Juice and corralled me while shelving and asked for the new Good Charlotte album. I pointed her in the right direction, and returned to shelving. She found it, came back to me, holding Green Day's Insomniac album and asking "Is this the new one?" I chuckled and said, "Well, no. The new one is American Idiot, although this is a decent one. Who's it for? Are they after a certain track, or anything by this band." She looked offended (sorry, honey, you don't look like the Berkeley Punk type with your stretch pants and puffa jacket), and said "It's for my thirteen-year-old son." I found her American Idiot, though sent her off with a strong recommendation for the band.
It was only after she left that it hit me that the first CD I'd just recommended to a thirteen-year-old a CD by the band who made the first CD I'd ever bought as a thirteen-year-old. I felt ancient. Old. But also kind of cool that the cycle of rock was rolling on. Heh. Ok, that last line was a bit cheesy.
Whew. Didn't mean to write this much. Actually, I may put this into my Blog as a new entry. Hooray for lazy!"
And I did! I am Lazy-Man! Fear my wrath!
Sunday, June 05, 2005
Guh. Ogg Tired.
Stocktake last night. 6 pm to 4:15 am. Lots of looking at small numbers on stickers, much Red Bull and Pepsi to stayy awake. Finished off night by lifting boxes of CDs. Ouch. Came home just ten minutes before Tanja was to get up to go to work. Fell asleep. Slept til 12:35. Still tired. Guh.
Monday, May 23, 2005
Frustration
Damn it. Why do good movies always get released JUST after I buy something. Last Samurai, 28 Days Later, Army of Darkness, Undercover Blues, Fight Club, Shawshank Redeption, all the Crow sequels.... They're all under 20 bucks. Then they've released the El Mariachi-Desperado-Once Upon A Time In Mexico box set for 35 dollars. Dagnabbit! Don't these people WANT me to have money?
I'm drowning my sorrows in Shaun of the Dead.
"Aren't you gonna thank me?"
"What for?"
"Tidying up."
"It doesn't look that tidy."
"Well, I had a few beers when I finished."
Also, Blogger seems to be playing up and not letting me post new entries. It freezes when I try to load the update screen. And of course, now that I say it's doing so, it works. Typical.
I'm drowning my sorrows in Shaun of the Dead.
"Aren't you gonna thank me?"
"What for?"
"Tidying up."
"It doesn't look that tidy."
"Well, I had a few beers when I finished."
Also, Blogger seems to be playing up and not letting me post new entries. It freezes when I try to load the update screen. And of course, now that I say it's doing so, it works. Typical.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Naughty Laughter
Tanja and I were watching the Melbourne Comedy Festival Debate last night. The topic was "Does God have a sense of humour?" and it was bloody wonderful.
Anyway, one of the guys went up and mentioned that his proof that God DID have a sense of humour was all the religious memorobilia sold in Jerusalem, like Pens and hats of Jesus. He said he tested them by going into a stall and asking for a giant Jesus head that you can use to squeeze orange juice, and the crown of thorns spin to harvest the juice, and the juice comes out the mouth. (I was already chuckling at this point) The vendor pauses, then says "No... we don't have those... but it's a bloody good idea!"
Wait for it...
"We can call it the King of the Juice!"
I nearly died.
I'm going to hell. Me, Martin Scorcese and Denis Leary are catching the express bus.
Oh, and two new comics.
Anyway, one of the guys went up and mentioned that his proof that God DID have a sense of humour was all the religious memorobilia sold in Jerusalem, like Pens and hats of Jesus. He said he tested them by going into a stall and asking for a giant Jesus head that you can use to squeeze orange juice, and the crown of thorns spin to harvest the juice, and the juice comes out the mouth. (I was already chuckling at this point) The vendor pauses, then says "No... we don't have those... but it's a bloody good idea!"
Wait for it...
"We can call it the King of the Juice!"
I nearly died.
I'm going to hell. Me, Martin Scorcese and Denis Leary are catching the express bus.
Oh, and two new comics.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
The Old Military Prayer...
So I was at work Monday the 18th, right? I had got a single, not a return train ticket, because the day before my manager had given me a lift home. She apparantly hadn't brought her car Monday, so I was forced to take the train.
Now, as I ran down to the station at 11:30, the gates were open (as they often are late at night), and my train was leaving in under a minute. I figure, bugger it, I don't have time to grab a ticket, they hardly ever check. I hopped onto the train, went to Redfern, switched platforms (noticing the gates were open here too), and caught the train to Newtown.
I get off the train and walk down the platform, playing Craig's gameboy advance (a boon to the commuter). As I reach the bottom of the stairs and look up, I stop dead. There are two train guards at the top, checking tickets.
I freeze, about-face, and start walking back up the platform, muttering "ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck..." and other such intellectual expressions. My brain is whirring a mile a minute. I walk up to the timetable and see that in 20 minutes, at 12:15, there's train back to Redfern. I can always walk back. I also check my wallet. Might there be an old ticket I could bluff with? Nope. All I find is a Newtown to Hornsby return from the 13th. Oh weel, I'll be ok, as long as they don't come down onto the platform, right?
Oh shit, they're coming down to the platform. They must have noticed my ever-so-stealthy deer-in-the-headlights pose at the bottom of the stairs. I don't look up and pretend to be engrossed in Final Fantasy Tactics.
Guard: "'Scuse me, mate, but could we see your ticket?"
Me: "Umm, yeah sure." *hand them the Hornsby return from the 13th with a straight face*
*pause*
Guard: "Oh, ok. Here you go. *hands ticket back* There's one last train from here, isn't there?"
Me: "Ummm... yeah, the 12:15."
Guard: "You must have just missed the last one."
Me: "Must have. Heh. Heh."
Guard: "Ok, thanks. Have a good night." *returns to his post at the top of the stairs*
Me: *dies*
So I wait the 20 minutes, calling Tanja and letting her know I'll be a bit late (and waking her up, poor thing). I get the train to Redfern, step off, and there are guards there too. I walk up, hand the the Hornsby ticket, which they hand right back, I walk up the stairs and out the open gates. Homefree.
So, that military prayer in the title? It's an old one, but a good one.
"Thank the Lord for people stupider than me."
Now, as I ran down to the station at 11:30, the gates were open (as they often are late at night), and my train was leaving in under a minute. I figure, bugger it, I don't have time to grab a ticket, they hardly ever check. I hopped onto the train, went to Redfern, switched platforms (noticing the gates were open here too), and caught the train to Newtown.
I get off the train and walk down the platform, playing Craig's gameboy advance (a boon to the commuter). As I reach the bottom of the stairs and look up, I stop dead. There are two train guards at the top, checking tickets.
I freeze, about-face, and start walking back up the platform, muttering "ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck..." and other such intellectual expressions. My brain is whirring a mile a minute. I walk up to the timetable and see that in 20 minutes, at 12:15, there's train back to Redfern. I can always walk back. I also check my wallet. Might there be an old ticket I could bluff with? Nope. All I find is a Newtown to Hornsby return from the 13th. Oh weel, I'll be ok, as long as they don't come down onto the platform, right?
Oh shit, they're coming down to the platform. They must have noticed my ever-so-stealthy deer-in-the-headlights pose at the bottom of the stairs. I don't look up and pretend to be engrossed in Final Fantasy Tactics.
Guard: "'Scuse me, mate, but could we see your ticket?"
Me: "Umm, yeah sure." *hand them the Hornsby return from the 13th with a straight face*
*pause*
Guard: "Oh, ok. Here you go. *hands ticket back* There's one last train from here, isn't there?"
Me: "Ummm... yeah, the 12:15."
Guard: "You must have just missed the last one."
Me: "Must have. Heh. Heh."
Guard: "Ok, thanks. Have a good night." *returns to his post at the top of the stairs*
Me: *dies*
So I wait the 20 minutes, calling Tanja and letting her know I'll be a bit late (and waking her up, poor thing). I get the train to Redfern, step off, and there are guards there too. I walk up, hand the the Hornsby ticket, which they hand right back, I walk up the stairs and out the open gates. Homefree.
So, that military prayer in the title? It's an old one, but a good one.
"Thank the Lord for people stupider than me."
Saturday, April 02, 2005
"My God, you're a beard with an idiot attached."
Whew. While since I updated.
Really fast recap: Tanja and me. Noosa. Lovely weather, got a tan, shopped a lot, went to the beach, met Steve Irwin. Drank in swim-up bar.
After I got back, I “quit” the CCA-regime and the field of telemarketing (the quotation marks are because I haven’t actually told them yet) and joined the ragtag motley crew at Borders Bondi as part of the music team. It’s not bad, actually.
Things I’ve learned since starting at Borders:
:: Black Books is wonderful (the boxed set of all three seasons selling at $41 actually wooed me away from buying Shaun of the Dead… at least until next pay), and Dylan Moran is my hero.
:: Shelving books and organizing things is strangely calming. It’s kinda Zen. It’s “Ze”.
:: I am the only one in the store who cares about the graphic novel section. You can’t put American Splendour next to Ultimate X-Men. It’s not RIGHT!
:: Sometimes managers (with names beginning with W) are not the knowledge centres of their sections, and you’ll learn more from a part-timer who started 4 weeks before you.
:: When people change the display, you can get free posters!
:: The film “Hero” is about saying three phrases, then flying at people with swords. Repeat, later, rinse,stab.
:: Little French guys in camouflage will get upset when you tell them that electronica is in the Dance section. “Bhut, electah-roh-in-CAH izznot dance! Then they’ll spent an hour and a half looking at the whole section, and then ask to listen to seven different CDs for ten minutes each (during which, I’m not allowed to leave information) and then get angry when I won’t take an import CD out of its cellophane, and then buy that one import, and leave all the ones he listened to.
:: If your microwave gets broken, a sandwich-maker will appear like magic within a day.
:: Sushi is only good when it has chicken in it.
:: I need more money, as there are many fancy and expensive things I wish to purchase.
Really fast recap: Tanja and me. Noosa. Lovely weather, got a tan, shopped a lot, went to the beach, met Steve Irwin. Drank in swim-up bar.
After I got back, I “quit” the CCA-regime and the field of telemarketing (the quotation marks are because I haven’t actually told them yet) and joined the ragtag motley crew at Borders Bondi as part of the music team. It’s not bad, actually.
Things I’ve learned since starting at Borders:
:: Black Books is wonderful (the boxed set of all three seasons selling at $41 actually wooed me away from buying Shaun of the Dead… at least until next pay), and Dylan Moran is my hero.
:: Shelving books and organizing things is strangely calming. It’s kinda Zen. It’s “Ze”.
:: I am the only one in the store who cares about the graphic novel section. You can’t put American Splendour next to Ultimate X-Men. It’s not RIGHT!
:: Sometimes managers (with names beginning with W) are not the knowledge centres of their sections, and you’ll learn more from a part-timer who started 4 weeks before you.
:: When people change the display, you can get free posters!
:: The film “Hero” is about saying three phrases, then flying at people with swords. Repeat, later, rinse,stab.
:: Little French guys in camouflage will get upset when you tell them that electronica is in the Dance section. “Bhut, electah-roh-in-CAH izznot dance! Then they’ll spent an hour and a half looking at the whole section, and then ask to listen to seven different CDs for ten minutes each (during which, I’m not allowed to leave information) and then get angry when I won’t take an import CD out of its cellophane, and then buy that one import, and leave all the ones he listened to.
:: If your microwave gets broken, a sandwich-maker will appear like magic within a day.
:: Sushi is only good when it has chicken in it.
:: I need more money, as there are many fancy and expensive things I wish to purchase.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Warning!
simulcast from Marathon Men:
"T-Minus 12.5 hours until Lord of the Rings Special Edition Marathon Begins. Aw fucken' yeah. that' going to be 11.5 hours of Peter-Jackson-y goodness. And it'll be the best kind of Peter Jackson-y goodness. The kind where we don't see Peter-Jackson."
Yes! Tis true! Der Marathon begins tomorrow morning! Fear us! Fear for us!
"T-Minus 12.5 hours until Lord of the Rings Special Edition Marathon Begins. Aw fucken' yeah. that' going to be 11.5 hours of Peter-Jackson-y goodness. And it'll be the best kind of Peter Jackson-y goodness. The kind where we don't see Peter-Jackson."
Yes! Tis true! Der Marathon begins tomorrow morning! Fear us! Fear for us!
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Hmmm...
| Captian Carrot You scored 84 intelligence, 67 morality, and 75 physical strengenth! |
| You are an intriguing character. Good hearted, incredibly strong, and a headful of information that makes that Jeopardy guy look like a bar trivia hack. No one knows what to make of a six-foot tall dwarf who dates a werewolf, and may be the true heir to the throne of Ankh-Morpork. But you can make everyone get along, and are a born leader. |
My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
|
| Link: The Which Discworld Character Am I Test written by smirkette on Ok Cupid |
Not my first choice... I figured I'd be more Vimes-y. But I can deal.
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