Friday, January 29, 2010

The VGC-Video Game Comics for those of you outside the digital world

Like I've said before, this is not meant to be a keep-you-updated-on-my-life blog. However, I believe a scope into this part of my life will do you some good.

I'm the "VG Comics Club" sponsor and I'm taking notes...dubious notes. The verbiage and acks. are unreal!


(Game Informer Magazine, 202nd edition is in the center of the circle, creating quite a stir. The newbie brought it in...strategic move)


"System Shock II...yea it scaaaaared me, in 1999" (that was when he was 2 years old)
"That's a cool mini gun!"
"I'm not even sure I could find that on ebay." (in reference to the mini guns)
"That's from Halo War right? Rated T for Teenager?"
"Rated T games aren't as much exciting as the other games" (light years ahead of his time)
"Spartacus Blood and Sand is not like Spartacus!" (heeeeello?)
"I was 7 years old and I bought a rated M game, Time Splitters, and I loved it." (M means mature, duh. Time Splitters is about stopping Zombies in a mansion, get in the net!)
"Instead of buying a DSI, just trade in your DS Light. Unless you have a lot of Game Boy games, then you should keep the DS Light." (DS standing for Digital System??? That's all I got)

Happy Friday Gamers!

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Tuesday night church social time

Breakthrough.

That's what occurred 48 hours ago...
Where you ask?
At Tuesday night church social time.

This is not the official name but I believe it is a descriptive one. This event is not just my "social time"...that time is not limited to one day a week, please. It's not just "church time" c'mon you know that's on Sundays! (Sundays when I'm up before 11am and decide to attend, oops). It is literally church social time, on Tuesday nights. *I must admit this particular pocket of social time is in fact limited to one night a week!

Some might say that the side of me that rises to the surface (like a volcanic, lava-y eruption, most Tuesday evenings post "church social time") is my cynical side. Actually...it's not cynicism...it's realism.

I don't think there are enough gigs or bites (or whatever!) on this site to go into great detail on the subject matter at hand. Nor do I have enough time before my 10pm scheduled slumber...a necessary evil due to an 11-year-old-filled-day partnered with "Ultimate Athlete Capture the Flag," a yoga sesh, some stir fry...and a few Coronas! That's neither here nor there. What I will say is that it is my realist side that thinks things like...

You don't really want to say the word "wonderful" over and over again do you?
Don't act like you didn't just look at my name tag!
Do we have to keep talking? You've dropped the "G word" and "awesome" three times EACH in the last 10 secs! I get it you're a nice Christian boy!
And.... scene.
(I'll stop there)

Why do I continue to attend you ask? Duh. Because I'm a nice Christian girl ;)

This week a breakthrough occurred. An authentic, just awkward enough, male/female interaction. After some non-cynicism-causing, intelligent conversation, the following was said in attempt to plan a night of co-ed cooking (don't give into the confusion, just assume this type of activity is normal for the sake of following the story):

"Yea I'll see you then! Bring your bReast recipe!"

"Excuse me?"
(Little does he know, most likely due to lack of experience, those things go EVERYWHERE with us! We don't have the option to not bring them!)

All kidding aside, as much as I can, the guy looking forward to my breast recipe laughed hysterically upon realizing his insertion of the unnecessary consonant! There were no red cheeks (aside from mine), but instead normal laughter appropriate for a like situation.

One small step for a Tuesday night church social group, one HUGE step for Christian mankind.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

There's an app for that

I just recently entered iPhone world. And what a beautiful world it is.
I'm thinking of writing to the "Mac Daddy" and pitching this commercial...

Need your checking account balance at your fingertips...because you've been known to overspend a time or two? There's an app for that.

Social networking WHAT?! (Facebook unless you're living in '05 and still a myspacer) There's an app for that.

No sense of direction whatsoever? There's an app for that.

Don't consider yourself a gamer but can appreciate certain intellectual "activities" related to word play, while waiting in line at the Post Office perhaps? There's an app for that.

SHAZAM! 'nuf said.

Less than par bar tending skills due to serving experience limited to sailors? There's an app for that.

No sense of what's going on in your world or local news and feel embarrassed when you pretend to with coworkers, or just people who are smarter than you are? There's an app for that.

Christian and freakishly interested in Horoscopes, not admitting it out loud to fellow "believers" especially when you've worked with nuns in the past...who judged you for big hair, lack of a wedding ring, and your sinful amount of clothes? There's an app for that!

I will warn you about the one thing Daddy Mac (well, his techies) didn't think of when they were nerding out and creating this miracle...
Drop your iPhone at least once a day, sometimes even in bathroom stalls when you forget it's in your back pocket ?
Aw man!

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Ninja

While I am an ultimate athlete, my dear friend is...a ninja.
A ninja with secret moves.

Wednesday is one of my favorite days of the week because of the long-standing tradition..."Women's Support Group." This is not the actual title of the evening, it's actually called "Wednesday Night Dinner." Tomato, tomoto.

With three days of running under my belt (back on the wagon) for the purpose of being able to tighten my belt (sorry, bad word play) I planned a run date with one of the "WND" gals before dinner. With much strategerie, I put my front door key (what I thought was the key for the front door) on my shoelace. I don't even like holding things when I'm standing or walking, much less running. Off we go. Running on the pier is lovely and the waves are a sight (the swell is gnar would be the translation for people that actually surf). We return to my home and realize that the only door we will be opening with the key I have tied to my shoelace, goes to the complex laundry room.

Good looking neighbor attempts to assist, in fact even allows me to call my drug lord, excuse me land lord, and leave a message. Shocker, she doesn't answer her phone. Good thing I'm just locked out and not drowning in a plumbing-related flood!

Ninja (aka a college roommate and bestie) decides we should check out my side yard situation. With ease she hops the gate leading to it. Note: There is a separate key to this side yard gate, but it is also hanging on the adorable "Welcome" sign in the entry way INSIDE my apartment. I suppose I could do laundry if I want though, that's nice. I watch the Ninja from behind the maroon gate bars. I consider myself a tenacious gal, up for anything, but the six inches my dear friend has on me definitely gives her an advantage to hoisting over this barrier, especially since all six of her extra inches are in her legs! As she gracefully sets her right leg over the top of the gate, I stand in confusion with my hips half a foot below its top.

Although the maneuver into the shower window flashes before my very eyes, I'm able to retell this epic event...

She steps onto a wicker table and with the useless key, shimmies off the screen. The green stool on the side of my house (why, I'm uncertain) is thrown into the very deep bathtub. Head first, she shakes down into the bathroom, grabbing the sink with her hands for support, and sliding in the remainder of her bottom half through the 15x15 window. My job is to cheer her on at this point...and laugh hysterically while passersby ignore the shenanigans. Shady activity isn't foreign in my hood.

Long story short, we (as in she) broke into my home within minutes of the lock out. Dinner was had and all were amused.

Steph, you truly are a Ninja with secret skills beyond most of us. If I ever have to appoint someone in charge of my life (like saving it for instance), you'll be hearing from me.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

I am an Ultimate Athlete

...actually I'm far from it. Just ask my big sister. The one fight we ever had consisted of two statements:

Me: "You SUCK at softball!"

Her: "Well you SUCK at soccer!"

There are two things that are noteworthy from this dialogue. The first is that I have had a clear love for the "S" word since childhood (the last post being proof enough), and second, that it is true...I DO suck at soccer. Also I suck at most other sports.

Being the "easy-going" and "fun-loving" teacher that I am (the two-word hyphenates that I strive to live up to at work!) I agreed to work with another teacher in his elective class. We all pitched our electives to the student body and the ones with the most sign ups were established-who'da thought junior highers wouldn't love a sweaty combo of aerobics, kick boxing and crazy dance moves! Needless to say, my pitch for "Cardio Craze" was nixed.

Teaching friend Mr. Energy's "Ultimate Athlete" class however got much interest. And so Tuesdays and Fridays (Fridays post Comic Book Club of course) you can find me in the company of about 45 boys...on a field...sweating...as I put my "athleticism" to the test.

Today we played "Capture the Flag." I find it wise to stick with the sixth grade boys as they're still slightly interested in their teacher's opinion of them. They answer my very important questions...

"So if I go past those cones they can tag me? Are they gonna hurt me when they tag me? If I'm tagged I have to go to 'jail'? Why is he running toward me right NOW...with that look in his eyes?!"

Exercise is supposed to release endorphins. In this case, it seems to release anxiety as well. At any given moment it's likely there's a hormone-raged,preteen, male charging at me. I don't like that at all.

I may not be the fastest (understatement) but I believe I can be the most encouraging.

"Nice job Josh, you're an ANIMAL!"
"Tyler C, you're on FIRA' today!"
"That's right Patrick, show no MERCY!"

"Get that motha'...!"

In time, I might consider myself an ultimate athlete. Honestly, I'm just not sure how much time that could take.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Exhale

It's one of those weeks where...I'm not even sure how to finish this sentence.
I suppose I could sum it up by saying I just want to take a nap. That, however would only be possible if I could sleep! Generally there is one thing I can always do and that is to sleep. There is seriously something wrong if slumber is out of my repertoire.
It's the first week back from my "Winter Break." Most of us call it "Christmas Break" but I'm learning to get better at speaking to the masses, meaning 60 students that may or may not actually celebrate Christmas (although I'm guessing most do since this teacher, right now if you could see me I'd be pointing my two thumbs toward myself and smiling in a creepy way, made out like a bandit on gifts from 6th graders. Uh thank you.) I'm probably not allowed to complain after a two-week break, which is why I'm not complaining, but merely narrating how my week has unfolded.
The body is doing some awesome things. Migraines. Cramps. Exhaustion. Oh and did I mention cramps? What am I...a 13 year old girl? Honestly.
Although the post hasn't made its debut yet, (it's in the works and currently living in my journal) at some point you will hear about my very crappy New Years Day-pun intended. For now, I'll leave the details out and simply tell you that there was some plumbing issues in my classy OB apartment complex. And when I say issues, I mean that the plumbing system did the opposite of what it should, assuming we all agree that your neighbor's fecal matter should go down into sewage/pipe land and not up and out of the toilet and bathtub in your home. Yeeeaaaa. So, being the aggressive-when-I-want-something-done gal that I am, I found myself harassing my landlord (who I'm convinced is more of a drug lord than a lord of land) until she sent over a professional cleaner to finish up the job I'd already begun. With an unexplainable enthusiasm for sanitation, I agreed to leave work early so that we could accommodate the 3:30 appointment that drug lord/landlord had established. Around 6:30 (that's 3 hours later for those of you that are tired like I am) Guadalupe showed up. Being 5-10 minutes late to everything (not anyone in particular) is fashionable, but three hours? Throw me a fricken bone here!
Re-doing things I've already done, done well in fact, at work has been really fun this week. I like to smile and say things like, "Adapting! It's the name of the game when you work with kids! ha ha" This way people still think I'm easy-going and fun-loving. This week I am neither two word hyphenate.
Migraines suck. Cramps suck. The lack of the toilet sucking down what it should, sucks too. But what sucks most of all this week... (want me to say sucks one more time?)
Is feeling like a needy chick!
You might think that a single gal wouldn't have the opportunity to feel this way. Touche. One can feel needy at work, at home, and most dangerously in that crazy place above her neck! Man, that has to be the worst! I'm gonna need this week to finish up pretty soon. Let's put that mop, heating pad, Excedrin, sour look on my face and needy 'tude AWAY. Fo' real.

On a more positive note (one that doesn't SUCK) I am pleased to say that for a short amount of time, lying in bed and doing some yoga breathing really helped ease the gnar-insanity. It goes something like this:

(one hand on your heart and the other on your belly button)

Inhale
Exhale: God take all my craziness away!


Inhale
Exhale: God make me comfortable showering in there.


Inhale
Exhale: God stop me from being such a woman!


Inhale
Exhale: God bring Friday here quicker! (that one is almost as bad as praying for a parking spot. Oops)


One more day.