I give you NES versions of classic hits. I've only heard The Final Countdown so far, and I'm sad that this isn't the '80s anymore, because there totally would have been an Arrested Development video game--just like the Frankie Goes To Hollywood game, but with bananas and staircars. Instead of continues, you'd take a forget-me-now. As the "Continue -- Yes? No?" screen counted down, you would be taunted with possibly-offensive chicken sounds.
I'm still waiting for the big-ass RAR file to download.
...
Still waiting.
Sunday, December 11, 2005
For those sick of 24/7 Christmas music radio.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
While I'm playing TV Guide....
Sunday at 4PM (EST), NBC will be showing curling as part of its Ice 2005 pre-olympic hype. That is what I will be watching, even if they show as little as they did today, when the women's team couldn't even extend the duel into a fourth end. Personally, it sounded as if the match taking place off-camera was more exciting. Ah well, I should just be glad they're showing any curling, and they don't act as if aliens invented it so much anymore. The "Curling rocks!" ad campaign is gone, sadly. I shall miss those young punks curling the turkeys in the supermarket with the old lady, they made quite a team.
Other sports featured on Ice 2005 will have people riding a thin board with blades down icy tracks head first, and also the double luge. I think I see why all of these sports were thrown together in one show and simply titled "Ice," and I'm okay with that...as long as they show the curling.
61 days until the winter olympics...the original reality show.
OMG! QUICK, TURN ON THE TV!
Anyone who has the Sundance Channel has 45 minutes to see why I am the way I am. On the station, right now, is Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, starring The Bee Gees and Peter Frampton.
I can say nothing more, because I'm watching Dougie sing You Never Give Me Your Money. Naughty, naughty Dougie.
Friday, December 09, 2005
I've got the winter itch!
That should be a holiday song, something about getting itchy in winter...maybe as a result of sitting outdoors two consecutive nights in 23°F weather listening to Tom Waits and then Beatles music until 12:30 in the morning. There are times I wonder what the neighbors think. Then again, the neighbors are all asleep. I have such good neighbors. Now that the guy that used to shoot at things moved away. Or shot himself, I'm not sure.
Right, so, we got lots of snow overnight, and it looks pretty when it's undisturbed by footprints and seagull poops. In between tossing salt at rogue ice patches, I've been feverishly churning out comic strips in the hopes that I can see my family occasionally during the next few weeks without having to sneak off and draw like I usually do.
Anyway, any plans I had for writing anything else here at this moment have been hijacked my this:
I got the winter itch,
Shovelin' snow is such a bitch,
The plow knocked me into a ditch,
Oh yeah, I got the winter itch.
My excema likes the cold,
Comes out to play and makes me look old,
My fashion modelin' days gotta be put on hold,
'Cause my excema likes the cold.
Okay, that's out of my system, back to drawing like I write. Ha!
Friday, December 02, 2005
I have returned, momentarily.
I have found that the best part of holiday eating, when a digestive disorder is involved, is that I gained one mere pound, and that is already gone. Take that, people with functioning weight/energy-producing capabilities!
The worst part of the holiday is of course searching in vain for the bulb tester I know I put somewhere. Not any place I recall at the moment, but the bulb tester is indeed located somewhere within the house. I think. Unless I was feeling like Kate Bush and buried it in the garden instead of my glow-in-the-dark yo-yo to protect it from the government.
The bits that fall in the middle of all things good and bad are that I'm really busy, Tate's back, Looney Tunes: Back In Action entertained me more than Ocean's 12, and I have found a game that may be offensive. Catholics everywhere will be pleased to know that my sheep-swinging skills are very slow.
Join me next time when I realize with sudden horror that most of the music cassettes I own are roughly twenty years old.
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