I Did It All For The German Intersexed New Romantic.

I'm not lying when I say Grand Theft Auto: Vice City Stories is a difficult game. The ratio of missions that were handed over to me in disgust was higher than possibly any other video game we've ever played, and even I had to play a mission over a few times. The other night I spent over an hour cleaning the Mendez mansion with Domestobot because I didn't think to look in the basement. Generally I would see that as fun, but towards the end of that hour? It wasn't fun anymore. I was driving around the mansion with the lighter out, intent on burning the entire house down just to find the safe. Saving Lance's ass every three missions isn't much fun, either. I'm not going to spoil the games for anyone who hasn't played them yet, but when Lance shows up, it's very much like knowing you have papercuts but also knowing you need to wash your hands. You will hurt.

The early missions are given by totally unlikable scum--not that anyone in the GTA universe is wholly lovable--and if I hoped to see the end of the game, someone better show up and interest my family, fast.

One of the highlights of Liberty City Stories was noticing that one of the DJs was voiced by Barbara Rosenblat, the very voice of the Amelia Peabody series. So when we got a mission in Vice City Stories that involved meeting a contact called Reni Wassulmaier, I damn near lost my mind. Never mind that we keep flying the wrong direction in the helicopters, never mind that we can't navigate the back alleys to rescue injured women, Barbara Rosenblat was playing that which I wanted to be in the '80s, an adndrogynous European with good taste in music, Geisha makeup and a tendency to make weird movies.

I should mention that when everyone else was putting on "proper" makeup, I was coating my face in baby powder and piling on eyeshadow and dark lipstick. I have no idea where it came from, as I didn't spend much time in clubs when I was 12, unless you count Club In Mah Head. Imagine my delight some twenty years later when I heard the term "New Romantic" on Echoes and realized I actually had something there.

Last night I flew Reni to the airport. It was sad to see her go. To me, that's where the game ended. Yes, the Phil Collins concert was hilariously fabulous, and I think Phil's involvement in this game more than makes up for him being left out of the original Vice City, but Reni, Reni makes me feel all special.

Tonight I think we finish the game. "We" can at times mean all three of us, such as "We" couldn't catch up to Lance before he burned to death, but tonight "We" means I will be flying Vic Vance's ass accross the city to get medieval for the tenth time because it involves a helicopter, and I'm the only one who can fly the helicopters in the right direction.

Even though it was at times not fun, I'm totally glad I saved up for this one. Not only for Reni, but Phil Oakey's Together In Electric Dreams and Nik Kershaw 's Wouldn't It Be Good are songs on the radio! That's worth blowing stuff up for any day.

I Did It All For The German Intersexed New Romantic.

Because You Know I'm All About Ice.

I admit the closest I've ever come to driving a big rig, hauling who-knows-what up steep hills for crap pay was the time I played Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. I kept losing my trailer down the mountains, and even though I only had 15 seconds to re-attach it, I never gave up...until the damn thing exploded.

So when Nan started watching Ice Road Truckers, I cracked a few jokes about, "You have 29 seconds to reattach the trailer!"

But then trucks started going through the ice and all kinda crazy stuff. And now I'm obsessed. There's a marathon on the History channel Sunday that starts at 1PM eastern time if you want to have your mind blown over what some people will drive on.

I can't even drive when there are flurries, man!

Because You Know I'm All About Ice.

OMG GTA!

There is another.

Grand Theft Auto IV looks amazing. Of course, it won't be out until October, and even then it may have ten different versions depending on how many groups the game pisses off.

Grand Theft Auto: Vice City Stories seems to be out for PS2 now. Ooh. I did not know this. Cut me a slice, Vic Vance!

OMG GTA!

Five years of thievin' good times.

When Grand Theft Auto III was released for the Playstation 2 in October of 2001, I had no idea what it was. My cuz-brother told us about it, and the sheer glee in his voice as he described the game put the bug in our collective gaming head to check it out. Mum went down to Toys 'R' Us and asked the woman behind the counter for a copy. She merely had to pass the test of worthiness with one question: "It's not for a minor?"

Mum once traumatized a little boy in Software, Etc. by telling him that not only does she play Tomb Raider, her mother plays it, and had I been there in Toys 'R' us that night, I probably would have started laughing at the memory of that boy's face. Had I been there, they probably wouldn't have given us the game because I act 12.

I will never be able to explain the greatness that is the Grand Theft Auto franchise beyond, "OMFG it's so cool!" but last night we started GTAIII over again for maybe the 40th time. Mum picked up a busload of prostitutes to take to the Policeman's ball, I blew up trucks, and Nan blew up Lips Forelli and then hijacked an armored car.

Life has changed quite a bit over these five years, and we've played that game in all sorts of weird places, but Mum still puts on Jah Radio as she's driving around, Nan still puts on Chatterbox, and I still put on Rise-FM and say, "I used to listen to that guy," every time DJ Andre speaks because I've hit the age where I just keep saying the same thing in the hopes it'll be interesting. Rise-FM is in fact the only station I can listen to and complete Smack Down.

People give the games a hard time, because people who can't think for themselves need an excuse to go be violent and stupid and then blame anything for their inability to tell what's real from what isn't. I'm just grateful for a video game my family plays together, no matter what else happens. It can be an irritating bastard at times, but it's also given us a lot of laughs. Nan flying CJ from GTA: San Andreas across the desert wearing a jet pack and gimp suit, carrying a dildo, for instance. Just to get a pass card for the casino heist. That's good times, my friends. Trying to get to the airport in a crap boat before the plane gets to the drug dealers, that's something else. I usually end up with that mission. I've been run over by a million FBI cars.

Five years of thievin' good times.

No, I didn't actually go offline.

Although that would have been clever, had I left it with a whole diatribe about hy hours on the computer and then actually did leave. I could have said I did, but then I couldn't say I've been to imoscar.com and it was funny.

No, actually what I have been doing since Monday is attempting to gain control over the faulty hyperdrive that is my brain. This week's plan was to excercise. Oh my. I don't like to do that, because if I'm going to travel 0.8 of a mile, I want to be somewhere else when I'm done. But no, I went back to my well-chewed ski machine named Faisal with the broken arm, and have since spent a total of thirty minutes going nowhere at a rate of 0.7 mph. RAWR.

Should I explain the description? Okay, sure, why not. In the '90s, we got a ski machine. I ended up being the only person who used it, and I name things. In the winter olympics of 1994, there was a cross-country skier who could not compete, or he did, but he came in last...it was a long time ago. His name was Faisal, he was Moroccan, and I believe CBS was trying to find the next Eddie Edwards. I aspired to this great height, and named the ski machine after this guy that could go maybe 0.2 of a mile faster than me...but so much further. Not really, it was joke, and it stuck. Because things stick with me. Then the following year, my puppy ate the plastic trim on the ski machine. About two years back, my strapping right arm managed to break the oft-welded "ski pole" off the machine again, and this time, it was not welded back on, but tied on with some telephone wire. Telephone wire is strong, man.

So, ten minutes on the ski machine is ten minutes I'm not at a keyboard, and while that's good for the most part, I haven't gotten to catch up on some things. Being this blog was never meant to be a log of my daily brain farts, I sorta didn't have anything else to report. Except that I need to lose 12 words from something as soon as possible. Also, I am having difficulty with the "End of the Line" mission in Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. Past posts may have indicated that I couldn't afford that game, but the sudden rush of people getting the game away from the innocent children (that shoudn't have had it in the first place) made one copy available to me--legally, too. Shocking. I *heart* Wu Zi Mu. I would also like to make it known to the world that my grandmother staged an elaborate Las Venturas casino heist, and is really good at jacking motorcycles and shooting gang members.

No, I didn't actually go offline.

Something I've wanted to do for a while.

Many months back, I thought I'd do what I do best, and come here to heckle the news. Not the real news, because it's not too funny these days, and even if I find some parts of it funny, that could just be my exposure to metals at a young age laughing.

Some of this goes back so far that it's not even in my memory banks anymore, but hey.

Tom Cruise

You wrecked Interview with the Vampire, man. Stop it, for the love of your Xenu and all that's holy in the world! Killing Oprah doesn't even come close to making up for it!

Saddam Hussein not liking Froot Loops

Aww, that's sad. Just think, if all the world could have their favorite cereals, maybe everyone wouldn't be big grumpyheads!

The 'slump' in the summer box office

See the previous two comments above, add lack of Harrison Ford movies, stir. Seriously, though, I had to assure the parents of 13-year-old that there wasn't any blood and gore in the Fantastic Four before they'd let her go see it. The parents, I can only assume, got to see at least one Nightmare on Elm Street in "their day" and are now overcompensating to the max. Stop it, people, before you raise a generation of people that will only want to make movies about asparagus.

Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas -- now with added S-E-X!

That is, tragically, the closest some gamers have probably ever gotten to...ah, I'm stereotyping. What do I know? I mean, it's not like I even can get near San Andreas on eBay. *cough*

Softball being taken out of the Olympics

I totally had to sit through China vs. Japan during the Athens games just to see some Table Tennis. Now, I bet I'll have to endure Water Polo. Someday, man...someday Table Tennis will get the respect it deserves and have the whole overnight show to itself.

Sony paying radio stations to play Celine Dion.

Somehow, I knew this. WPLJ would occasionally spin Cyndi Lauper's version of I Drove All Night, and for that, I was glad Celine Dion remade it. It's because of Dion's remake that Lauper's 1989 remake got popular on the '80s request shows again, and I love Cyndi Lauper.

Which brings me to this:

Faith No More's I'm Easy in a Levi's commercial.

Ten years ago, I used to annoy radio stations -- a certain radio station, anyway -- to play me a song. No, not Misty, but Faith No More's remake of I'm Easy. The station played the song once, during an alphabetical history of modern rock. I waited until 5am to tape the song off the radio that night. NOW, the blasted song's going to be popular to a bunch of new kids, and they'll all think they discovered Mike Patton, and I will have to track all these children down and make them listen to Mr. Bungle. Maybe I'll just wait until cooler weather.

Something I've wanted to do for a while.