It’s one of those nights, and if I don’t get something down on the ether it’s going to keep me up far longer than we want it to.  I really do believe in happy endings; you know, I do.  I gotta.   You have to believe in endings here on this lonelyblue planet.  Because if you don’t, then all you got is the slog through the mud, and every once in a while you have a bright spot.  But, mostly, it’s the slog through the mud.

So you need endings.

I think I need an ending… soon.  Not now, not yet.  I’ve got a while to go before my legs give out.  Before my head falls beneath the water line.  I fought for years.  I never once thought I’d fight so hard without even realizing it.  But now that I’ve spent so long trying to keep my head above water… my muscles are starting to burn, and water’s starting to come in.  You can’t breathe without water, and you can’t stop fighting, or the mud’ll drag you down, like quicksand.

I need a win.  I really do.

Ok. Well.

I have to write. See, I have to write or I won’t go to bed.  (Avast, me harties, there be spoilers ahead!  Read only if you don’t care about watching Battlestar Galactica’s third season finale – or if you do care, and have already seen it, and want to share in the dazed aftershock with me.) (more…)

I’m upset.  The last few weeks have been horrible on the part of the staff who services my server, with frequent outages deemed verging on the unacceptable.  They do, admittedly, tend to have things fixed usually within a couple of hours – so props to them.  But it’s not their ability (or inability) to fix the problem, it’s the fact that the problems happen so frequently.

So much so, I am currently without email, due to last night’s fuck up.

So I’m in a game shop earlier today acquiring God of War II, and the clerk is a young, cute Asian girl, who looks at me and says “Ok, this is going to sound really stupid, but can I see your ID?”

I hand her my ID.  “So, you’re actually enforcing that rule now?”

She just smiles and hands me back my license and punches up the game.  Then comes what I am, by now, sure that these clerks are trained to say.  So certain am I of this fact that I am willing to bet money that they have a script somewhere in the back of the store.  “We’ve got a lot of good Playstation 2 games coming out, you want to reserve one?”

Now, as a business practice, I do not mind the idea of game reservation.  Sometimes, you gotta reserve shit.  Like when big game consoles come out.  Or for games that you know are going to be big hitters – your Final Fantasies, your Metal Gear Solids, Halos.  (I’m willing to bet there’ll be some new franchises joining that list – Gears of War, Resistance: Fall of Man.)  That’s just the way shit goes down.

But… reserving Joe Average game?  Huh?  What?  Why?!

“No, I’m okay,” I reply.

“Oh come on, why not?”

Uhm, what?  She’s seriously pushing this whole game reservation thing.   “I don’t usually reserve games,” I reply.  It’s true – I don’t.

Also, what good games are coming out for the Playstation 2?  God of War 2 is pretty much going to be the last Great Game of the Console.  Or should be, if Sony ever plans on getting anywhere with the PS3.

“Well, why not?” She asks, in all seriousness.   She wants me to reserve a game.  She needs me to reserve a game.

I look her dead in the eye, and without missing a beat, give the line that I’m sure I’ll use from now on with persistent sales folk.

“I’m mortally afraid of commitment.”

Her jaw drops a little.  I bite my tongue in order to keep a straight face.  She hands me the receipt slip and mumbles something about signing here as she shifts her gaze down to the keyboard in front of her.  I sign happily, and walk away, as Metallica begins to play over my earbuds.

It’s amazing what a great smell green peppers give off when cooking.  It’s like it defines Italian smell in my head.

(Work is good.  Also, surprisingly tiring, but incredibly entertaining.)