Tuesday, May 25, 2004

Reader Saltation suggests another possible US name for Harvest Moon for Girls: "Harvest Moon: The Lunar Cycle."

Some videogame intellectuals are pondering the viability (which I hope is nil) of videogames offered on a level-by-level basis, to be released, say, once a month. With a system requiring you to pay more to buy a whole game, this will benefit both the company and the company. That said, I want to become an advertising consultant for some maker of super-gory videogames so that I can trick them into running an ad with some evil demon with an axe staring the viewer down, with the caption: "Once a month... the blood will run."

Come ON! I'd PAY to see the look on the (male) executives' faces when they've realized they've been had. Sure, sure, Andy Sully will write articles about how Leticia McKenzie recieved favoritism based on gender, and that this is a case study on gender-based affirmative action in the workplace, and women can't be trusted to handle videogames... but I'll have had my moment, and that will make it all worth it.

Okay! Now on to something serious. How did everybody else react to the brave fifteen-year-old on TERA (who, I hope, is reading this now, so that I do not have to feel guilty about talking "behind her back")? It gave me a flurry of mixed emotions and showed up in my dreams. This is not only somebody who has bested me at my own game, but somebody who is two years younger than me, and prettier. So... I don't know what to do. I KNOW I have friends who feel the same way I do, but I can't exactly bring it up in conversation (so.. how about that nakedness?). Whatever, I will deal. Trust me. It will all work out. Somebody one of us will slip and say, "would you like some cream with your toplessness?" and we will laugh and cry and talk about when we were five years old and when we slipped out of the house buck naked to see somebody.

Okay, speaking of awkward, girly stories, I have invited two friends of mine to an authentic Girly Sleepover. I am HOPING, with this particular configuration of people, that we can talk long into the night, and, you know, BOND. I love to bond. I am a certified Bonding Machine. I am going to die if I cannot bare my soul just ONCE in this whole, pathetic semester. Do you know how it FEELS to go to a community college where you interact mostly with the coffee shop baristas and spaced-out professors who wish they could have landed a job at Poseidontown U?

No, I'm just ranting. And no, do not worry about me. I worry about myself enough as it is. Toodles.


(Okay, now you've got me talking, and by you I mean me. When I started to ask her if she wanted to come over, I stammered up a storm and she had to smile and say "Spit it out!" for me to recall the concept of the English language, and you know, I before E and all that. I asked her, and she wondered if, you know... THE OTHER GIRL that I asked to come over is all right. You see, she fell in with the wrong crowd... and, lo and behold, does drugs. She also skips school and got expelled. It probably doesn't help that she has crazy parents who tell her that it is sinful for her to be gay [how'd you guess...]... so I do try to be that one, grounding influence in her life, especially because she is really sweet to me and that gives me an in. But really... I want to find out who she is underneath all that crap, because I know she's a really great person, it's just hard for me not to explode in anger over the people who gave her that crap in the first place. Okay I'm done now. Bye bye)
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