I’ve got enough gazpacho for everyone

September 17, 2007

It's been a long time since I can say that I really "did" something on the weekend. Oh sure, with the vast array of gaming consoles at my beck and call I can produce copious amounts of fun. I've been replaying Bioshock, alternating between exploring Metroid Prime 3's glorious environments and slogging through the awful plot, and running through Azeroth's verdant fields. But I never feel like things have been accomplished that don't involve a digital auction house.

It must be the "other person" factor. The solitary, misshapen lump that I am, I don't find myself with visitors more than once a week, and those folks arrive with the inevitability of indentured serv... ah, I mean, good friends and excellent company without whose moral support I would surely crumble into dust. Goodness it's hard to write a candid personal journal and then post it online for everyone to read. Yes.

But you can't kill him if he's wearing people clothes!

This weekend I found myself at the beach, a location on the Florida coast you can find in Google Maps if you type in "Carnival Ln." Really. Google might ask you if you're an idiot and meant "carnival in" instead, but no, this is apparently the only place on earth so titled. I went there as part of a company retreat... not my company exactly, but how often does that stop me? Two dozen or so people whose names I can barely retain despite their normalcy accepted me as a fringe member of one of their own and let me join in their reindeer games. There was a two story water slide, jet skis (which ran out of gas when I approached them - perfect timing) and the beach. Oh, and a pig to eat. No, not bacon, not a slice of ham, but a whole pig slit lengthwise down the belly and flattened on a tray for you to carve pieces of meat for yourself.

If I were the focal character of The Truman Show this is where the analysts would be talking about my sheltered life. I've never really seen a dead land animal that you're supposed to eat and isn't behind frosted glass at Publix. The face of the pig was unblemished, spread apart like a texture for a character in a video game. I'm looking for a word that's a step or two down from "horrified," but I can't find one. I've never had a problem eating meat, and haven't instantly turned vegetarian (as evidenced by my trip to Jimmy John's for lunch yesterday), but it was still pretty disturbing. Still, in order to not offend the host (who was crowing about the pig), I had a little bit from an already cut-up area. It didn't taste any different from any other pulled pork I've ever tried, but after I ate my meager portion I satisfied my appetite with the fried shrimp.

I don't like the beach, and the beach doesn't like me. I got a suntan on the one part of my body I neglected to put lotion on: my stupid advanced male pattern baldness head. I look like I'm permanently embarrassed about something, which I guess would be accurate. My Auto Assault hat was useless at PAX, but it could have saved me the agony of brushing my wisps of hair on Sunday. Lesson learned.

Is that how you ride a horse, Moiraine?

My guess is that all Wheel of Time fans thought the same thing when Robert Jordan passed away: great, now it's gonna take even longer for the final book to come out. The only famous person I could reasonably impersonate (by signing letters as "Jordan R") has kicked the bucket, meaning the wait for the final book may actually be eternal. My good friend PrintError recommends A Song of Ice and Fire, so I'll give that series a try once I'm done thumbing through Revelation Space again.

Halo 3 arrives in eight days. It went gold a month before release; surely Microsoft intends to sell as many copies as they can print. In reality I haven't been affected by its insipid marketing campaign, but I enjoy the spectator sport of pointing and laughing. My pre-order is fully paid and I'm ready to "Finish the Fight," or at least see the only game on the Xbox that has more hype behind it than Bioshock. After some deliberation I'm ready to hazard a guess at Gamespot's final review score. They're using a 19-point scale, which makes this much easier. Let me place my bets on a solid 9.0.

If I'm wrong, may I be forced to read the lunacy that is Sony Defense Force every day for a year.