Bored? So am I. Here's something to read.
Spent some xmas gift-card goodness on, among other things, a giant, decent-if-not-great pair of over-ear headphones. They have a switch that lowers the bass; I don't know who that's for. Half the point of buying a good set of cans is to get some appreciable bass, no?
Couple days later I went by Cat's expressly to blow some cash, and found myself holding two records called B-Sides & Rarities, one by Cake and one by Deftones. Although I do have a man-crush on Cake's music, and despite the fact that the Deftones record cost twice as much, that's the one I bought. I'll get the Cake LP eventually, until then I'm satisfied. Deftones is just a brilliant fucking band, and this is a great set (CD, DVD, booklet/mini-photo album). Almost picked up a Damien Rice album while I was there, but I think Jen may already have it. Need to check her library.
Quick Steam update. Valve's landed another major developer in Rockstar Games. The entire Rockstar catalog is live, check it out if you're a PC snob like me. GTA San Andreas is one of my all-time favorite PC games, console-origins be damned. When and if some more disposable cash comes my way I'd like to finally get around to checking out the Max Payne series.
Oh, I thought this was funny. So there's a drug store in Raleigh I go to sometimes. There's an older black lady who works the register in the evenings, and she used to bust my ass about my ID before I got my new license. I get it, I look way younger than my 31 years, and my old ID was nine years old, beat up, and the picture didn't really look like me anymore. But she would go all out, looking for a second opinion on it, asking for secondary ID, the whole deal. Just for a damn pack of smokes. This happened at least a half-dozen times. At a certain point you'd think she would fucking remember me, but no.
Anyway I went in there tonight. I'm really not a douchebag, but I was definitely wearing a douchebag's uniform: baggy jeans, a black knit cap with a big skull printed on it, and a bright orange t-shirt that says 'Show me your Titties' (don't ask). Guess who was working the register. I walked up dressed like a dick, and she was clearly already unhappy with me, and proceeded to buy nothing but beer, cigarettes, and condoms. I don't know why, but there was something liberating about being, superficially, a complete and utter asshole for once. That's so not who I am, but I think I could grow to like at least pretending to be one every now and then.
Spent some xmas gift-card goodness on, among other things, a giant, decent-if-not-great pair of over-ear headphones. They have a switch that lowers the bass; I don't know who that's for. Half the point of buying a good set of cans is to get some appreciable bass, no?
Couple days later I went by Cat's expressly to blow some cash, and found myself holding two records called B-Sides & Rarities, one by Cake and one by Deftones. Although I do have a man-crush on Cake's music, and despite the fact that the Deftones record cost twice as much, that's the one I bought. I'll get the Cake LP eventually, until then I'm satisfied. Deftones is just a brilliant fucking band, and this is a great set (CD, DVD, booklet/mini-photo album). Almost picked up a Damien Rice album while I was there, but I think Jen may already have it. Need to check her library.
Quick Steam update. Valve's landed another major developer in Rockstar Games. The entire Rockstar catalog is live, check it out if you're a PC snob like me. GTA San Andreas is one of my all-time favorite PC games, console-origins be damned. When and if some more disposable cash comes my way I'd like to finally get around to checking out the Max Payne series.
Oh, I thought this was funny. So there's a drug store in Raleigh I go to sometimes. There's an older black lady who works the register in the evenings, and she used to bust my ass about my ID before I got my new license. I get it, I look way younger than my 31 years, and my old ID was nine years old, beat up, and the picture didn't really look like me anymore. But she would go all out, looking for a second opinion on it, asking for secondary ID, the whole deal. Just for a damn pack of smokes. This happened at least a half-dozen times. At a certain point you'd think she would fucking remember me, but no.
Anyway I went in there tonight. I'm really not a douchebag, but I was definitely wearing a douchebag's uniform: baggy jeans, a black knit cap with a big skull printed on it, and a bright orange t-shirt that says 'Show me your Titties' (don't ask). Guess who was working the register. I walked up dressed like a dick, and she was clearly already unhappy with me, and proceeded to buy nothing but beer, cigarettes, and condoms. I don't know why, but there was something liberating about being, superficially, a complete and utter asshole for once. That's so not who I am, but I think I could grow to like at least pretending to be one every now and then.
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