Friday Brain Drain
The Sims 2
I've played this for the last 3 evenings. Which, given the number of times it has crashed means that I've gotten a good two hours of gameplay in. Why is it so addictive to watch your computer people eat, sleep, bathe and dress themselves? I mean, I can watch myself do those things any old day of the week, and have ceased to be fascinated by the process. But man, it's addictive to watch the fake people do it. And I have the cutest batches of kids, too. The only problem is that pretty much everyone in Pleasantville is related to either the MacKennas or the Goths. I will soon begin spawning six-fingered sims.
Tim has pretty much settled into his office upstairs. He works upstairs, I work downstairs. We are actually contemplating Skype to talk to each other. I'm thrilled because I now have free use of his comb-binding machine. I love comb-binding machines. It's like I'm my own little Kinko's down here. I'm thinking about making myself wear a blue apron.
I love it. The movies are incidental. It could be the jelly-of-the-month club, really. I just love to get things in the mail. Fun things--not bills. Or those stupid ShopWi$e circulars. They could stop sending me those. There is no way on this earth I will ever need that many coupons for Dominoes and Mrs. Winners. I don't need return address labels with little kittens on them, and I don't want LaSik, even at $399 per eye. But I do love finding a new Babylon 5 DVD in its bright red envelope.
I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to maximise my per-month rental capacity. When I was going into the vast story-problem with Tim (about how I calculated maximum potential DVDs at various levels of membership, lost days without DVDs, etc.) his eyes glazed over. I think I'm over-thinking it. Too much time playing strategy games, I guess. But I've now got a mission because once all the B5s are watched, I'm slated to get the War & Remembrance DVDs. I own Winds of War, but have never seen W&R priced to own. Well, I suppose if you wanted to buy a set for onboard viewing on your YACHT, then maybe. But me--I'm not giving $200 for them.
The Sounds Stadium
I hate baseball. I dated a pitcher in high school and spent far too much time in the back of pickup trucks in Woodburn, Indiana trying to watch my boyfriend convince himself he could Be A STAR. To me baseball is cemented tightly to the concepts of mediocrity, failure, cruelty and boredom. Last I heard, the boyfriend had a job laying pipe for his father and was out on disability. It's like that Bruce Springsteen song--which was a hit when I dated Mr. Sixty-feet-Six-Inches. Sadly, he thought it was a good thing, and didn't realise that Bruce was making fun of the guys in the bar talking about their Glory Days. I guess they will pass you by in the wink of a young girl's eye if you're completely oblivious.
So I'm blocking all news of the stadium mentally. The only thing I know for certain is that I'm of the personal opinion that the city doesn't need to build another sports stadium. We've already got several, don't we? Why don't we build a lower sales tax or something? Oh well. Erection fever.
The Movie/TV/DVD Blog
It's doing pretty well, but I'd seriously love it if more people would want to be contributers. (Misspelled in honour of poor John Carney who had to put up with it that way on the site. I can not believe I was a spelling bee champ once upon a time. I have the worst problem with vowels. Maybe I should go on Wheel of Fortune where I don't need vowels to spell. Or maybe I should re-take Hebrew. They don't use vowels either. But it does read right to left, which hurts your eye muscles if you aren't used to it. Speaking of Hebrew, Lydia got me a very lovely Chanukah present.
Anyway, please consider contributing to All Along The Watchtower. It really has nothing to do with Jimi Hendrix, Jehovah's Witnesses, or VietNam.
I've gotten precious little done on it this week--unintentional vacation--but had some really good news yesterday. My father had collected oral histories from distant relations and their friends about one of the central topics and settings of the story. I had no idea, but it's the best resource I could imagine. I've been at a standstill because I'm waiting on oral histories from the Library. But this is even better. I'll be able to supplement the library accounts with actual familial experience. Now comes the fun part--seeing if my father can find the letters and papers in his office. He's the only person on terra firma whose desk is messier than mine.
Man. This is a small world. Nashville Knucklehead spent some time in the Summit City. Of course he didn't grow up there, so he has no full comprehension of the thrill of driving really fast from Fort Wayne to Woodburn on SR37 with Meat Loaf blaring. I still think half the reason I dated 60'6" was because he lived far enough away to give me an excuse to drive.
I have always thought that Fort Wayne could be the model for Stephen King's Derry, Maine. There are so many wierd coincidences, and so many odd people who passed through there--myself (and Stephen King) included.
Someday I'll write about Fort Wayne. Then again, I think I always write about it in some way or another. It's my Yoknapatawpha.