"200" people?

There's 3 kids in there. Im sure I saw a mother drop off 2 kids like its
a bowling alley.

More MW2 shennigans...

I just plunked down the remaining $30 for my pre-order. It took longer
than expected because a clueless mom was struggling to comprehend how to
pick up the pre order for her kid. "So I just paid in full...can I have
it now?" "No, we can not give the game to anyone before 12" "But its
paid for, when can I get it?" "12 midnight, just present this receipt
and we will hand you the game, easy as that" "I can't stay here for
another 6 hours" "Well, we anticipate a long line so the earlier you can
show up the quicker you can get your copy" "Im the first one here right
now, can I have it its paid for"
Repeat this exchange with variant questions and points including "this
is for the ps3 right?" "yes, that is what you asked for. When you
present your receipt at midnight we will hang you a copy for PS3,its all
set" and "So when you open at 12,I can walk in? Should I show up at
12:45 after lines have died?" "We aren't closing, we do anticipate long
lines and people getting in line at 9 or 10.." "But you said no one
would get a copy before 12!" "Those people will be waiting until then"
for 3 minutes. The second Gamestop employee finally showed up, logged
on to his register, took my $30 and told me about what's going on. I
saved him the trouble of explaining by saying "I'll be back in a couple
hours" When I left the lady was still talking. Hopefully she doesn't
hold the line up.

Video Game Geekdom: Modern Warfare 2

My copy of MW2 is probably in the stock room of my local Gamestop. I am extremely excited and have an iron clad game plan for the midnight release festivities. A majority of my "PSN Friends" are picking the game up sometime this week. One of my co-workers will be joining me at the midnight launch. I will be in full geek mode, bringing my already broken in controller with me so I can play in the store. Ill get comfortable with my own controller so when I get home I can buckle down and get my first prestige by dawn. I'll be chatting with the "200" close friends of the Gamestop, partying up, talking shop with gamers , winning give aways , wearing freebie shirts and being excited for the 10 second count down at 11:59:50.

Actually, I will be working until 9:30 across the plaza from said Gamestop. As will my co-worker. We also will be with in walking distance of a hand full of chain restaurants. Our plan is to hang at the bar, get some kicking appetizers Guy Fieri style. Maybe purchasing some dessert for some hot and single ladies, just like the commercials would want us to do. They would invite us over to sit, have a drink, and chat us up. We would be so close to going home with them, until they ask us what we are doing in the area. Something tells me spilling the beans we are waiting for a midnight video game release, and killing time drinking at T.G.I. Fridays would not appeal to a couple of women looking for a good time. At least I could get some use out of my So-Cal, free wheelin', rock 'n rollin', club shirt with flames, my sweat bands, my Vans off the Walls,my wallet chain, my Oakley shades and 1990s era ska band frosted tips! At 11:45 we plan on strolling leisurely over to the game store to pick up our copies. I might be 6 or 7 deep and full of deep fried green beans by the time I arrive to Gamestop. In all honesty, I expect the store to be fairly empty. People may trickle in and out to make their purchase. With any luck I'll be standing around long enough to get a free T-shirt. I will take photo evidence of anyone that sports the NVG's. I can see my co-worker popping his on and driving home with no headlights. Ill be finding my way home to play for about an hour. I have to work Tuesday so I won't be able to get any quality time in shooting terrorists. Wednesday and Thursday will be a different story. The fridge is stocked with Monster energy drinks and Coors Light. I also stocked up on Celeste pizza, ramen and pop tarts.

To mentally prepare gamingwise, I have been playing Pain (out of necessity) to cleanse my pallete of war time shooting games. I do not want to keep any subconscious habits from games like the previous Call of Duty games, Socom, Metal Gear, Red Faction and the Orange Box. I have high expectations for MW2's single player and multiplayer games. I also am looking forward to having a game most of my PS3 buddies have that we can all play together. Stay tuned for more MW2 hype and excitement as I get closer to acquiring the biggest game of the year.

Video Game Geekdom: M.A.G.

I've been excited for M.A.G. since I heard about it. A Massive Action Game of up to 256 players,simultaneous,first person,team death match, objective squad based combat. I am a fan of all these. I loved the intensity of Team Fortress Classic and Halo 2 multiplayer games. I recently got a code to beta test MAG before the full release in January 2010. I'm well aware that the game I have been playing is not the final version but I got a few things to say for sure. The graphics are ok. They are somewhere between Ps2 and Ps3, I figure they have to dumb it down to handle everything that is happening in the massive environments.

One of the big focal points of this game is the massive teams, and breaking teams down into 16 man squads, with a squad leader, an 4 squads with a platoon leader.squad leaders can call in mustard gas and another feature I have not seen yet, platoon leaders can set mission objective map markers and some other stuff. The key of all of this is communication, so plug in your headset. If you or your squad need support to blow up an AA gun, or enemy barracks you need to call out on your mic to your squad leader, who will call the platoon leader who will direct other squads to focus attacks on the objective. Right now in the beta you can qualify as a leader after x amount of experience points. If you are designated as a leader and have no mic you are no where as near effective. There is no text chat, and preset commands only ask for back up, medics, vehicle pick ups etc,This is communicated by a pre recorded voice over. If your team mates hear it, there is no indication other than a small icon on your HUD, which is clustered with other on screen icons and doesn't give you a distance, just a general direction. I would like to see the implement of a smart squad leader selection where it allows only qualified players with mics to take leadership roles for easy communication of direction, and a distance measurement below help request icons so you know if it is worth running to revive a downed teammate or not. If these features are improved, we will see in the final build hopefully.

Another issue I am having trouble with is the credit system for weapons and equipment. Each player has 3200 credits you can spend on any combo of armor, weapons,grenades and support equipment. You unlock upgrades for each weapon but there is no way to acquire more funds.Not sure if this is beta exclusive, but it really limits all classes to maybe one of any 8 combinations .

For the most part any programming errors do not seem to be effecting game play. I haven't experienced any frame rates dropping in the middle of a big fire fight with smoke, explosions, fires, vehicles etc. I also have not seen any clipping issues. One of the smallest snags seems to be waiting to spawn you have a camera shot of an area of the field and you can sweep the view left and right, only in one area the camera is under a bridge and you sweep left and right and only see the top of the bridge, hindering any view of the action and the ability to call out enemy positions to your team mates.

Game play is pretty frantic. It seems a lot of people are fresh to the game and spend a good 10 minutes of their first game learning the map, weapon functions and controls. Coupled with a 15-30 second respawn time there is the chance that an opposing team with experienced players will steam roll you and your team of "n00bs" leaving you in respawn limbo, only to get 5 seconds of game play before you suffer an expertly executed head shot from across the map from a level 40 player. If you survive you are racing for cover, vehicles, turrets and a good vantage point to pick off enemies. With 63 players behind you, and 64 across from you with grenades, gunfire, in game voices yelling for medics, players with microphones calling for support, giving directions and calling out enemy snipers you feel like you are in the middle of an all out war.

So far I would recommend the beta if you get a code, how ever with final releases of Uncharted 2 and Brutal Legend's multiplayer already running, Borderlands in the next week or so, and Modern Warfare 2 in a month, the multiplayer scene will be focused on those final versions,Beta testers may leave for a final mupliplayer title and a community with depth. After the release hype of Uncharted and Borderlands dies down and the anticipation of MW2 ruling the scene for a while, I can see January still being a big month for all games. Revisit the MAG community after the gift giving season and winter break ends to see if other established title's online communities die down and see if MAG can start a strong community in late January. I have seen almost no MAG press coverage other than an odd preview article after E3 , some chatter on podcasts and the blogs. Out of the 2 Gamestops I've been to in the last week, they told me they are seeing no buzz, low preorders , and almost 0 interest in MAG. Hang on to $60... see what is coming out in January (Bioshock 2) or after and make a decision.

Fuckin FPS players ruining my reputation....

(The First, Best and Definitive First Person Shooter)

I'm a big video game fan and player. I'm modest in my abilities because I realize I am awful. I play casually and often am harassed and teased by others for being a "gamer". I am going to try to set the record straight and clear my name. Yes, I enjoy video games, but I am not one of the people worth mocking. I enjoy First Person Shooter games, which by nature are looked down upon as the most pathetic, over indulgent, violent, and simple game that any neanderthal could pick up besides anything in the Madden series, Ya Dood. I have plenty of experience in PC and console multiplayer online FPS games: Halo 1 and 2, Rainbow Six games, Quake, Team Fortress Classic, The Orange Box, Call of Duty, Unreal Tournament, and the list could go on, I think I can say that I have the knowledge and authority to speak about games and other gamers. If you disagree, tough nuggets. Sign into your account, challenge me to a game, join my party, sit next to me on my couch and witness who I end up getting matched against in various games and then dispute my statement. N00b

The Redneck FPS'er is some one we all have played against. Usually its a male with a Southern Accent who takes great offense to people from other countries. Usually late night games involve people in Europe that are 6 or more hours ahead of U.S. time so late night games are usually flooded with people speaking a foreign language and angry Rednecks screaming at them to speak English. Rednecks also get very very upset when some one takes their weapon or vehicle of choice. They assume every player in the world knows that they are the best with a Sniper rifle, or Tank and will make it clear to not disrespect them by picking up a weapon at a spawn point. The Redneck also is an internet tough guy and calls everyone a bitch or a faggot or uses the ever relevant and funny "Your mother..." jokes to verbally beat down any one who challenges them. One of the most obnoxious ways you realize you have a shitty Redneck FPS'er is the constant background noise on their mic's. Barking dogs, nagging wives, neglected children crying the whole match. I can only imagine a big fat wife with a mumu on and rollers in her hair, one child hanging off each tit, standing in the corner of the trailer while Mr. Cool FPS'er is kicks the dog for walking in front of the TV ruining a perfect no scope headshot and blowing the match. These people are the scum that give Gamers and FPS players a bad image.

The Trench Coat Mobster is too much of a time bomb with mental issues that is rejected by the military. The Trench Coat Mobster is notorious for long gaming sessions. During these long gaming sessions with his "clan" he often will use military lingo and try to employ military strategies. If you stray from his plan, or fail to cover this head case, or lose the match he will explode, get out of control because he takes the game personally. Life or death. Over the top does not decribe this guys attitude. He's preparing for war. Against the football players, the science teacher and even the cops. Watch your back after you play, he will be holding the Alpha team in position ready to breach your door, plant a C4 device, and fire on command. Take no prisoners, give no mercy.

The Juggalo Homie 420 Hip Hop crew are obnoxious, often similar to the Redneck. Most of these players have 420 in their player names ex: Juggalo420 , xXBurnin420Xx , 420BongRippa and so on. They also call everyone bitch. Even if they loose the Juggalo Homies will talk shit after the match like they won, often citing your mother as an insult. They also announce from time to time what they are smoking or drinking and if their girlfriend is next door, and every player playing is a virgin and cant get laid. Audio channels are also drowned out by today's blazin' new hip hop. Kotton Mouth Kings, ICP, Lil Wayne, or any other stuff that is suppose to be intimidating to crank for 30 minutes at a time. These skinny brats wearing basket ball jerseys, side ways hats and big gold pendants on chains purchased at the silver pagoda in the middle of the mall have no idea how much they embarass themselves when they open their mouth, and cause so much negative attention to other video game players.

7 year olds are my personal top perpentraters of giving the idea of playing games a negative connotation. They camp out, use the same cheap tactics and strategies, "own noobs", have obnoxious prepubescent high voices, are on late at night when any logical parents would tell little Ryder,Tucker, Hunter, or Shiloh to be in bed early on a school night. If there are a few of them in a game or party they probably are friends in real life and party up to play, and often talk nonsense shit about school to each other. Sorry Ryder, no one has any desire to hear about how you had a Pee fight with Jacob after 4th period. These players make everyone feel like a shithead when they lose to children. And makes you feel like a shithead for beating children. Its a children's game if they play. The world thinks you enjoy childrens games and playing with children. I enjoy playing video games.

The last problematic player of FPS games that is most detremental to reputation is the Super Fan Uber Gamer. This guy has 10000 hrs logged in, has every video game and is an expert at all of them. His user name is usually some Japanese Anime character or Final Fantasy character's name "SepirothSushimi" The Uber Gamer enjoys using glitches to show off skills. He is everywhere at one time killing you and your teammates with out giving you a fucking second to get your bearings of here you are on the map. This asshole also keeps his mic on the whole match and just breathes in a labored fashion because the weight of his chest is crushing his lungs. Between swigs of mountain dew and mixed handfuls of skittles and cheetos, this guy will keep his Kill/Death ratio above 2.0. This guy is the the ruler of his clan. He ruins gaming for every one else because he is the supreme winner, chancellor of excellence, and knows every trick in the book to maintain his virtual superiority. His dedication and fear of day light keep him gaming long hours and give the misconception that all gamers are extreme oddities and antisocial unclean condescending savants.

To put things in perspective, I like to consider myself a casual gamer. I enjoy gaming, I like FPS games, I keep my mouth shut during matches, I don't have strategies. I play to play, win or lose. Of course I enjoy winning, but if I dont so be it. Its just a game, and I dont need to call people a bitch because of it. I how ever get more annoyed and worked up being lumped in with the assholes that play games and give regular Joe everyday working members of society a bad wrap.

Journey into Mystery

I had a hard time falling asleep last night. I was up late reading about Snuggi, Shamwow and other As Seen on TV cult favorites. I ended up calling it a night around 5:00 am. I had to be at work at 12:45. I figured if I slept until 11 or so I would be able to function. That wasn't the case. My lovely neighbors seem to be obsessed with shovels. It was in the mid 50's today and of course they were out there breaking up ice patches and scooping them. It has not snowed lately, yet they are almost always out there. I did not get to sleep as much as I was planning on and stayed awake. I played through a few levels of Dig Dug 2 then got ready for work. I was over tired and already feeling sick and queasy. I can't drink coffee any more so I was thinking of alternatives. Monster Energy. 24 oz can. 240 mg of caffeine. I would need to drink an estimated 47 cans at 24oz each for it to kill me. Or so http://www.energyfiend.com/death-by-caffeine has lead me to believe. I also had the bright idea to have try a 5 hr energy. I get to the gas station near my work and purchase a XXL can and a bottle of 5 hour energy which has an estimated 60-100 mg of caffeine per bottle. And I bought some Cheetos.

I arrived at work. Punched in, had a bagel then I cracked open the can and bottle and shit got crazy. I tried the 5 Hour Energy first. This was my first 5 Hour Energy experience. I opened the tiny bottle and peeled off the wrapper to find a nondescript white bottle with a red cap. I could easily see my self in a hotel rushing to get ready for an important business meeting at the corporate offices with the big wigs, putting my bottle of 5 Hour Energy down as I shave, and picking up a bottle of trial size shampoo and downing it. With out being able to distinguish the difference in taste between Hampton Inn Shampoo and 5 Hour Energy. This shit was horrible. It was bitter. It smelled like the garbage can does when there is a puddle of mystery garbage juice in it. It stunk. I downed it at 1:00 pm on the dot, then had to chase it with Monster.

I love Monster, I've drank more than enough in my life to know what to expect. I opened the cap to the can. (Yes, the can had a cap, it is like a bottle of Mutagen or a pipe bomb) and there was flowing steam or smoke that billowed out with a little coaxing (see above video). I took a swig and eventually finished the can in 5-10 minutes. Within a few minutes I did feel awake, alert, and motivated to be at work and do something. I got plenty of stuff done. I signed a time card, printed out twenty five (25) to thirty (30) new forms. I organized the forms and placed them in my binder. I consulted with Egan about fantasy baseball. I figured out a way to tap into a closed circuit surveillance system I use and have a tape on loop like the scene in Speed with Sandra Bullock. I didn't feel like stuff was out of control. I had a touch of a headache but I was working and focused.

Then I started spacing out at the beginning of hour number 2. I was running out of tasks to get done for the day. I had 20 eyes in my head, I was seeing all,knowing all, being all. I felt like I was flying into the danger zone. Or maybe just a zone I have not been in for a long time: Wide awake with energy.I ran riot in my office looking for two non sharpened pencils to use as drum sticks so I could rock along to 1991 Billboard top 100 hit "Everything Changes" - By Kathy Troccoli \m/<('o')>\m/ and successfully finding online communities, chat rooms, forums and blogs about Alton Brown and his current Ben Franklin like hair.

Around 4:00, the third hour of my experience things got interesting. My mind was racing. I felt like the Flash when hes running at the speed of light and everything around him freezes. I was time travelling. I started to revisit bad movie ideas, jokes, and ideas I have had for a long long time. I thought about the documentary I want to make: "Barefoot in Berlin" which would be about Hippies that travel time to stop World War II. I would first need to have a time machine to go to San Francisco in the early 1960's and convince the hippies to go back in time to 1930s Germany as Hitler was building Nazi power. The hippies would then diffuse the situation by placing flowers in guns, making Peace signs on Mercedes Benz logos and getting Hitler to drop acid and have a one nut wonder love in. My mind started to wonder trying to figure out a set up to why I think the phrase "Hope Hogan" was funny. Perhaps a Christian Wrestler? or maybe our next President with a new slogan of "Hope" instead of "Change". Hope Hogan in 2012. And other racing, non-sense thoughts : Monster has Taurine. I know if take away the TA and it spells Urine which is essentially the chemical compound in Monster or some shit. And Shroud of Turin rhymes with Urine, unlike Taurine which is spelled similar to Urine but doesn't rhyme. Either way The Shroud of Turin has Jesus' face imprint, and like Jesus, the concoction I tried today could raise the dead. I feel my body temperature is a bit higher and my stomach feels nervous.

My fourth hour started around 5:oo pm as I ate my sandwich, a caffeine free diet Dr. Pepper and a bag of Cheetos. At that time, I was trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. I figured if I am ever: bored, tired, need to pretend to be on coke/meth or need become really aware and quick enough to be good at video games in an emergency situation, I should keep these drinks on tap 24-7. Then I figured I wouldn't last long and could suffer the same consequences of using the real drugs. I took a quick walk around the parking lot to get some fresh air and tried to focus. My super powers were fading. I was growing tired and I yawned. I got back to my office and fucked around with my radio trying to regain reception to no avail.

I started coming down around 6:00 pm. I had another caffeine free diet Dr. Pepper. I didn't want to push my limits. I didn't want to pull Brian Pillman and have my heart explode at the hotel before my match against Dude Love at In Your House : Badd Blood. I started trying to relax and calm down by thinking about going home and playing video games, eating, and finally sleeping. Then I started worrying about if I was going to be playing Playstation. Would I remember to use the Mp-40 dual mag, bouncing betty, juggernaut, martyrdom, ordinance custom class? Or would my spaced out ass forget and have to use a Mosin Nagant with double special grenades, double tap and toss back perks and make my K/D ratio dip below 1.00? I also feared about waking up and having shit all over my bed like Trainspotting, or a baby crawling on the ceiling twisting its head backwards.

I got home not too long ago. I made my two tamales and ate them. I'm trying to keep my shit together with out hallucinating and thinking there are gnarly radioactive zombie dogs, like the ones the Incredible Hulk fights in the 2003 movie with Eric Bana , waiting to eat my face off while I sleep defenselessly in my bed with no strength to even yell for help. As it stands now, my stomach aches, my head hurts, my piss is glowing in the dark and I feel like a bus ran over me. My only option is to have this rocket fuel cocktail tomorrow and try to stay awake at work.

Hatred Burger?

“Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.”

- Yoda

They say you are what you eat, and if the Whopper is angry, then by the associative property, I am angry as well. Anger gets you to be the baddest ass of all bad guys/magicians/dudes with special powers. Once I join the Dark Side I'll be having Jedi lightening battles with Darth Rory, collecting Light sabers and shit and choking old British dudes with the raise of an eye brow. I'm on my way to being a heartless, intergalactic tyrant if I start with with the Angry Whopper. I realized all of this today at work, in between sorting 3 months worth of register receipts, reading online message boards about Metal Gear and getting pissed at people for stealing all my pens. After my Angry Whopper, no more would any one fuck with my private Paper Mate draw, I'd force choke or launch a trash can at them or use Jedi mind tricks to convince them my pens were not the pens they were looking for. I clocked out of work and embarked on a journey to the local Burger King. I hopped in my trusty sky blue, dented, early model,sensible,fuel efficient,not so flashy, Japanese imported sedan, and pondered if I did become angry and evil enough to roll with Darth Vader, would I trade this bitch in for a sweet jet fighter with lasers and shit. I arrived to Burger King just as I finished rocking the fuck out to "Love Song" by Sara Bareilles \m/. My hands are still sore from pounding the steering wheel like a drum set. Burger King #01302 was the start of my quest for intergalactic superiority and honing my anger. 259 Cochituate Rd Framingham. I arrive to a smiling jovial face. I never picked up the woman's name. The poor woman was unaware of the utter evil she was facilitating. I placed my order "one large ANGRY WHOPPER combo meal!" I demanded. I was asked to pay $8.18. I presented my legal tender, and was handed my change and receipt stating my order was order #7. I filled up my large cup with Diet Coke and looked over the dining room. It was a deluge of people, young and old all present to take part of the Angry Whopper, Double stacker, and other Burger King treats and novelties. I was nervous I was going to have to take my meal to my rusty sky blue, dented, early model,sensible,fuel efficient,not so flashy, Japanese imported sedan. I then did some of the Jedi mind trick shit I've been working on and the dining room emptied. I chose my seat. For historical purposes I document my seat. Number 7 was then called, and my order was presented. One tray, one order of fries, one Angry Whopper. I was in for a big surprise that was for sure. I was about to experience one of the most terrifying things ever......

Hatred Burger

I unwrapped the Angry Whopper and felt like I was in an episode of Quantum Leap in a 1940s death camp. I experienced a life time of fear. I felt my life was about to end. I was afraid of the visions that would haunt me until my pending end. Jalapenos burned my mouth, similar to how vikings would burn villages. I could get no relief. I took a sip of my Diet Coke and felt betrayed by its ineffectiveness. My mouth was still burning. The tangy onions took me for a naive fool. I figured onion rings are always a safe bet. An aromatic treat, not these onions. They were born of Hell. The Jalapeno sauce raged fury on my taste buds. I was growing increasingly fearful until I became so frustrated, so helpless my fear turned to anger. I figured the only way to stop by fear was to banish this Angry Whopper from existence. I took a second bite out of anger...and because the bacon was good too. I was determined to not let this hatred burger strike me down. I took more bites. I drank more soda. I was in a blind frenzy of anger. It was like Friday the 13th part IV : The Final Chapter. Tommy Jarvis shaves his head, then goes down stairs and starts hacking at Jason and repeatedly hacking and saying "Die!, Die!, Die!, Die!" I begin to Hate Eat this burger. I chanted the mantra of "EAT! EAT! EAT!" in my head with every crushing motion of my jaw. I let some onion rings suffer on the wrapper.

I turned on my Frypod video.

. Then cranked "Addicted to spuds" I enjoyed this burger. I let out an menacing laugh as I contemplated the burger. I was angry enough to push a toddler down some stairs, go to Toys R Us rip a Barbie out of a little girls hand and drop kick it across the store then give her mom a roundhouse, steal her mini-van, rob a bank, use all the money to pay for hookers with aids to go around and have unprotected sex with just about any one I graduated high school with. $8.18 for a pretty dense burger, fries and a soda at Burger King. Mildly spicy/hot. If you get a Jalapeno by it self in a bite, or with a little of the sauce or a tomato or something you do feel the spiciness of the Jalapeno. How ever it does get lost in the mixing and melding of all the other flavors, the beef, the bacon, the cheese, onion rings etc. This would be a proper hatred propaganda burger at a chain restaurant for $10 with some better fries. I clean my tray, refill my cup and leave. I'm no Jedi yet. I contemplated the events that have transpired. The fear, anger, hatred and suffering I have experienced and the exacerbated mastication that caused all it. I got into my rusty sky blue, dented, early model,sensible,fuel efficient,not so flashy, Japanese imported sedan and rode off into the sunset leaving in wake my first lesson in Dark Jedi training.

Later on I did stop at Office Max. It was desolate. One (1) cashier, and one (1) person on the sales floor, and I (me) were the only ones (3) in the store. I was there on work related business. To make one (1) $0.08 cent copy. I approached the photo copy area and discovered I needed a key/swipe card to operate the photocopiers and make my one (1) photo copy. I approached one (1) the gentle, downtrodden old soul at the one (1) cash register and asked if he could make one (1) copy for me with out me having to go through the trouble of creating a key card to use the photocopier for one (1) copy. He informed me that there would be zero (o) problem and asked if I could hold on one (1) minute for my one (1) photocopy to be made. I was willing to wait one (1) minute possibly more (2-∞) . He paged the one (1) other sales associate in the store to make the one (1) photo copy. The young girl with the tired,defeated eyes of a refugee who has lost everything, even the will to live approaches the copy center, takes my one (1) sheet and makes one (1) copy as the one (1) cashier rings me up $0.08 for one (1) photocopy. I hand him a dime ($0.10) and he hands me back two (2) pennies. I feel guilty being the only one (1) in the store shopping and browse around. I find two (2) boxes of pens. Each one (1) box of pens has twelve (12) pens. I purchase two (2) for $1.00 each. The one (1) cashier rings up my purchase and my grand total comes to $2.10. I hand the cashier two (2) one (1) dollar bills and one (1) dime . I take my two (2) boxes of twelve (12) pens each and wish the one (1) man at the register and the one (1) sales associate on the floor to have a goodnight and proceed to my trusty sky blue, dented, early model,sensible,fuel efficient,not so flashy, Japanese imported sedan satisfied with my abundance of pens , which my soon to be acquired Jedi lightening skills will protect from would be pen theives. Approximate fours (4) hours late I face the vengence of the Angry Whopper and I soon find out suffering. The Angry Whopper haunts my mind with the stern statement "When I left you, I was but a learner. But, Now, I am the master." I make a break for the bath room at work and I feel less angry. Then I fear more suffering when I discover....How I get my self out of this situation is a long, sordid tale of cunning, resourcefulness, interpersonal communications, trigonometry and diversity. Much much more than I could ever explore in the remainder of this post, but will be left for a future post.

Volcano Taco = Lava Shits?

Some time last week I was at work and ready to eat. I weighed my usual options, when the ad campaign for the Volcano Taco from Taco Bell ran through my mind. I started asking my self deep philosophical questions like "Do Volcano Tacos cause Lava shits?". I set out to find out for myself that afternoon. I gathered my belongings , said my goodbyes to co-workers, and walked out the door hoping to answer a burning question.

I got to my sky blue, dented, early model,sensible,fuel efficient,not so flashy, Japanese imported sedan, opened the door and turned on some local talk radio. I motored my way to the closest KFC/Taco Bell combo near my place of employment. I fought my way through mid-rush hour traffic, with the sun flaring in my face as I drove westward I approached the KFC/Taco Bell parking lot. The overwhelming fumes of freshly layed asphalt and diesel commanded my attention as I noticed the street was blocked off right in front of the KFC/Taco Bell with construction vehicles, dump trucks, front loaders, steam rollers, police details, and numerous laborers in bright orange and electric yellow green shirts. Pickup trucks with trailers of tools, shovels, machines, rakes and other paving implements filled the Taco Bell parking lot.

I started to get nervous that the Taco Bell would be packed, or out of Volcano Tacos and I would have a failing mission to deal with. I found a parking spot for my sky blue, dented, early model,sensible,fuel efficient,not so flashy, Japanese imported sedan. I entered and was only 2nd or 3rd in line behind some gruff looking biker guy and two incredibly obnoxious 14 or 15 year old mop topped stoner kids wearing women's jeans,striped sweatshirts and big sneakers. Both little hipster pricks in Hurley brand skater crap were opting for the Volcano tacos. I figured that if those two little shits can handle Volcano tacos between skating sessions and constructing pipes out of apples and empty coke cans weren't shitting their brains out, I could handle the Volcano taco as well. I waited patiently on deck as the shitheads were issued their receipts and change. I was up to bat now with my order ready to go. Two Volcano tacos and 1 large soda.

I received my soda, was issued a # and receipt. I took the few moments I had before my food was ready to get my fill at the soda fountain. I walked over, cup in hand to a soda machine that smelled like feet. I recognized this smell as soda that has been spilled, not cleaned and thus fermented from my days from working at CVS. I held my breath and continued to fill my cup as my number was called.

I went to the counter and picked up my two freshly made Volcano tacos and headed out the door to my car to eat. I sat in the parking lot watching the busy bustling of a paving crew wrap up the last job of the day.I opened the bag and retrieved my first potentially butt busting taco. I examined it, and found that there is a minimal amount of meat and other toppings. Just a red taco shell, a spoon full of ground beef, the fiery cheese sauce shredded cheese and lettuce. I started eating the 1st one and was done in about 30 seconds. It was not as the ads suggest, my ears did not release smoke nor did I spit flames or turn red with heat. The fiery cheese sauce was just like the Tostito's queso dip with some taco seasoning, an epic let down. I opened the second one and inspected it closely as well. I figured the first puny taco was just a fluke, but my fears were confirmed, a 79 cent taco has just enough meat, and toppings to consider it a taco. I consumed it just as quickly as the first. I took a few sips of soda and hit the road back to work to wait for digestion to finish and I could make a conclusion on the Volcano taco.

As I was driving , I had to be stopped at a red light. I was waiting as a convertible pulled up, top down. The driver was a male in the late 50's to early 60's who was balding. He was cranking NPR. Loud music and convertibles always conjure images of rebels, renegades, rock and rollers. The thoughts of " Runnin' with the devil" by Van Halen, "Born to be Wild" by Steppenwolf, or "Bad to the Bone"By George Thorogood and the Destroyers. Not NPR promoting a commercial for "...Says you" or a public service announcement about national endowment for the arts fund raiser gala ball. The light turned green, the NPR faded and I turned into the parking lot and went back to work. A few hours later I went to the bathroom and here's a representative idea of what happened.

a slice of the Allston life

Chemical Warfare Monday

Recently I had a Monday, filled with clogs, cat turds, chemicals and carcinogens. I woke up on my day off and headed to the kitchen. I was looking for some sort of food to get my day going. They do say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. And thus my first meal being at 2pm after a solid night of drinking light beer and eating crap the previous night I was in dire need of food. I had loaded up the previous day at Trader Joes, fairly cheaply. I opened my freezer to some banana waffles and popped them in the toaster oven. I go to get a plate out of the sink and see that the sink is not draining. So I move some plates around see if the drain is blocked. Nothing happened. I grabbed a paper plate and fretted over the sink being clogged beyond repair. As I om nom nom nommed down my banana waffles I decided I was going to get the plunger and put that to work on the drain. This may have been a better idea if I didn't have a double sink on the same drain line. All it did was kick up brown water, rice and food debris from one sink to the other. I kept at it for a few then went to Shaw's and got Draino. I poured in a half a gallon of this shit and waited 15 minutes. I then plunged again getting the bleachy smelling clog cure all over my hands. The water now brown with white foam suds did not drain. I wait another 20 or so minutes and plunged again. As I plunged the water in one sink would drain but the rise in the other. I figure I must be doing something right. or wrong. I kept at it as the level of suds rose, more debris was sprouting up, almost like a geyser of bread crumbs, pizza crust chucks, pasta pieces and vegetables. As the foul stench of a drain pipe mixed with the burning sting of Draino, I forged on. An hour after the initial pouring of the solvent the water level dropped. Almost like an hour glass in fast forward. A small victory! I raised my arms in joy as I let out a big "HA HAAAA!" in the third floor apartment of my small Lower Allston apartment. I washed my hands in numerous soaps for a significant amount of time after, and I could not get rid of the chemical smell from my hands. I ultimately started to freak out about rubbing my eyes, preparing food, or using the bathroom in fear of chemical burns on tender parts. Fast Forward 4 hours. I'm sitting in the living room, watching tv when I hear a weird noise in the kitchen. My roommate's cat was running around the kitchen. I get up to look and see him doing this. Perplexed I think its just the cat being silly. I sit down in the living room, and hear the raucous again and get up and look. I see a huge connect the dot smile face. Only the dots are chunks of cat turd, and the dots were connected by a brown cat turd crayon. I immediately get up, ask the cat why he crapped everywhere. He ran off, I assessed the situation got the Clorox spray and sprayed the whole area. I tore off three (3) to fourteen (14) paper towel sections and scooped up the tootsie rolls, and gave the streak a wipe. I discarded everything in the trash and sprayed everything with Clorox again. I wiped it up again. I wreaked of bleach at this point. I then took a Swiffer wet jet and gave it another once over. I ended up taking a shower, and went to bed still smelling like potent cleaning solvents for the next 3 days.

A Side Road Rage?

My part of town is a very dense, tightly packed community parking spots are rare. There is not resident permit parking, but its unnecessary because the only reason to be in this neighborhood is to live here. I pull onto my street and immediately start eying spots on my way to my house. Giving my self mental notes if I have to circle to block, which spot would be closest/ideal for a quick getaway to work in the morning. I pull up to my house hoping there is a spot right in front of it. There is just enough room in front of my house for three (3) cars. My car would be occupying the third spot. As I pull in head first, I park for a second, then back out and turn my car around so I am backed in to just pull away in the morning. As I am doing my three (3) point turn I notice my Asian neighbor across the street standing on her steps staring at me. I pay no mind seeing how I do not want to talk to her, I just want to go inside and watch rerun of Cops on Court TV and eat my frozen buffalo wings. I cut my engine, tightly squeezed into the third spot and hear a shrieking voice before my door is fully open yelling at me in somewhat broken English. "How long you stay?" "I live here. I just worked all day. I'm going inside my house right here." She replied aggressively "You can't park there." "I've been parking here for the last year. I'm parked here, I'm going inside." "I got ticket parking there before, You can't park there...I can't park there, no one can park there." I reemphasize all I have said previously "I'm going inside, I worked all day, I've been parking here for a year now." "You going to get ticket. You can't park there. Park somewhere else, like me, lots of spaces, I can't park there, you can't park there either." Getting fed up, and anticipating this cunt calling the cops that I am parking too close to another car, or my car is more sky blue than the legal limit, pretty much any reason to give me a hard time I end the conversation and say "If I get a ticket...which I doubt, I will get a ticket and take care of it. I'm parking here,I have been parking here for a year, I had a long day at work. Goodnight." and run upstairs to tune into my police scanner. I put my frozen buffalo chicken wings in the oven. Have a Diet Pepsi and wait. Once my wings are heated up I turn out my lights, sit by my window with the a blanket over my head om nom nom nomming on my wings and listening to my police scanner waiting for a complaint to come across the air so I can run out and move my car and make her look like a fucking moron before the police show up to investigate. That call never came across, and I woke up to my victoriously ticket free sky blue, dented, early model,sensible,fuel efficient,not so flashy, Japanese imported sedan. I grinned as I opened the door looking at that bitches drive way smiling as I sped away to work.

My Big Day At McD's

I had a pretty busy morning today. I woke up late for work and floored it. I made it to work 10 minutes late and ended up being in a rush to nothing.A long day of watching creepy looking crack addicts look at every pair of Timberland boots then try to match them up to dumb looking graphic t-shirts and old ladies bitching about chipped ceramic cups on clearance for $1.00 at a discount department store. As I listened to the radio and spaced out watching these bizarre characters in the store, my mind began to wander. What happens when mice die? Are there funerals? Do they go to a mouseoleum. Could I make a living off of the Craigslist "Free" section just picking up free stuff and going to a pawn shop? Then I picked up my mobile phone with Internet capability and started on one of my latest obsessions. The Wiki how random function. This site boggles my mind. Almost any obscure character from weird Japanese cartoons,movie characters,and beyond has a brief tutorial on how to "be" that character. Other tutorials on how to make chocolate milk, how to be yourself, how to do long division, how to open doors, how to breathe and the most bizarre and ridiculously simple things are there.I feel like its some sort of underground, almost perverse sect of the population that are into obsessively writing Wiki how's on anything. I'm debating on writing a few myself: How to drink 12 beers, lose at Metal Gear Online, and make a toaster strudel with out burning it. or How to watch numerous episodes of Heir 2 tha $treetz on Boston cable access while your girlfriend is sleeping and wakes up telling you to shut that crap off, but you manage to turn it down just low enough she cant hear it and goes back to sleep. My mind continued to wander as I finished reading another wiki how article.A radio ad snapped me out of my hypnotic state. A commercial for the new McDonald's McCafe line. Today was smack dab in the middle of a week long promotion for a FREE McCafe from 7am-7pm. I debated on trying one vs. going to Chipotle again. As I watched more weirdos roam about the store and a woman do the "Purse twist" with every hand bag we had in stock, I decided to go to McDonald's for my lunch break at 330 or so. At that moment, I committed to it. As I almost always do I plan my food order out in detail before I arrive at the place so I leave no doubt in my mind of what I am doing, and can get my order out quickly to expedite satiating my appetite. I pulled into the McDonald's parking lot to see a few familiar sights: A long line at the drive through, plenty of older people walking out of the door to the handicapped spaces, and numerous pimp ass cars. Usually early model, sensible ,fuel efficient, Japanese import sedans with lots of flashy shit on it to make it virtually disguised so you don't know its a early model,sensible,fuel efficient Japanese imported sedan that usually is not flashy.These cars had spinning rims, tinted windows with "Angelito" and "El Salvador" written in a gothic olde tyme font, intake vents above the wheel well with chrome detailing, a spoiler, one car had rust spots and had a matte red finish, the other car had a gnarly color scheme that seems to change color as you walk by it, almost how a hologram changes color as the light hits it differently.Locking my sky blue, dented, early model,sensible,fuel efficient Japanese imported sedan that is not flashy, I double checked my pockets for my bill fold and was ready to dine finely on the best McDonald's Framingham has to offer.

I enter the McDonald's and order my Large #2, seconds later I am on my way to the soda fountain with my tray and cup. No incident.

I take my tray to a corner booth and open my phone to wiki how and read as I eat. I start picking up conversations of the people sitting around me and listen in. One couple is just talking about needing a new pool cover and the options around the McDonald's to buy one. And then I start listening to the two men behind me. Business men. Talking about some sort of contract signing they had today. Guy A says to Guy B "I'm more of the technical type of guy, the one that can tell our clients how things get done, the time frame, you, you're more of what we need and you were able to go in there and talk specifics, hammer out the deal, negotiate." Guy B sits silent as Guy A goes on " Don't worry about Williamson, don't believe what you hear. Everything isn't what it seems with him, he doesn't know the partnership that we need and the importance of a united front when negotiating big deals" Guy B still remains silent. Guy A says" I spent 15,000 to spend 5 days with the former CEO of Hallmark, and you know what he said to me ... he told me "You're with co workers 8 hrs a day, you don't have to like them, but you have to be friends. You re working towards a common goal 8 hours of every day." Guy B is silent and Guy A starts talking a little more quiet and serious and tells Guy B "I'm going to tell you this, and I want you to say this to me right now: What ever relationship we have, we're partners in this, and we have to be friends and wont let anything come between us" Guy B remains silent as Guy A doesn't give Guy B a chance to respond and says " Let's sign this contract, close this deal and go big with the next account" I start thinking to myself how gay the whole conversation was, and also aren't business deals made on golf courses, private jets, cigar bars , steak houses, and big office board rooms and not McDonald's with a 4 year old running around with a Lego Batman Happy Meal toy and my fat ass taking shots of sweet and sour sauce shoveling fries into my mouth?

I notice a sign promoting the free McCafe promotion. I decide that I am going to try one before I leave. I go up to the C.A. Cowboy behind the counter and put my order in for the Ice Mocha McCafe. He punches the order in then goes to this large stainless steal machine and flips open a laminated, illustrated instruction manual. He starts pulling levers, spinning cranks and after a minute or two my McCafe is done. He hands it over and I exit. I take a sip. Holy shit the stuff is strong. It was a bitter Mocha tasting latte. It wasn't very sweet, and I wasn't too wild about it. But,I needed caffeine and hell it was free. I make my way to work and I finish it right after I punch back in. Right away I feel the urge to piss. I figure OK, just like coffee. I go to the bath room and am done. 20 minutes later I got to piss again. OK, I figure I had a Diet Coke and a friggin McCafe. Then I get a feeling in my stomach like I may have to visit the Situation room and make a visit to my friend Tay Zonday so he can spin a Hot Track. It does not feel good at all. I go to the bathroom and take another piss. That's 3 pisses in about an hour. I start worrying and have an unnatural feeling in my stomach. I don't know if its the McCafe or just McDonald's in general. Then I'm not sure if the caffeine hits me but my head starts feeling weird, my body follows suit. I walk around the store a few times seeing if it was just because I'm tired or spacing out or what. I make my way back to my office, trying to sneak past any co-workers. One stops me and asks me how lunch was, I explained I got the new McCafe for free, and was not a fan as now I was feeling like garbage. She asked if it was very Mocha tasting, I answered "It needed more sugar or something, its was bitter as hell" I get to my office and sit down. I take off my sweat shirt and am sweating. My foot is tapping like crazy, my head is feeling weird and my stomach feels awful.I lifted my hand up and my fingers were twitching. I hung my head in my hands and I thought "what the fuck did I just drink" I thought my eye balls were going to burst. I could feel my heart speeding, I thought I could see my veins pumping blood through my arms.I muscle through the rest of my day. I will not be doing McCafe again, I'll stick to Monster Energy Drinks, Coors Light, Diet Cola and Iced Coffee.Please...tell me about the fucking golf shoes.