Whoever said “Good things come to those who wait” was full of shit. Good things definitely do not come to those who wait. Good things come to people who work hard and make things happen for themselves. Good things come to people who spend less time complaining about how good things never happen, and more time making positive changes to improve their lives. I’m about to make some exciting changes in my life, and I can’t wait.

To commence starting in March, I plan to:

1. Leave this garbage dump of a town.

> I want to be where there are more opportunities.
> I want to be where things happen.
> I want to associate with more ambitious people.
> I refuse to get stuck here like so many do.

2. Get a better job.

> I’m sick of business machines and office supplies.
> I’m also sick of customer service and retail.
> I hate man pants! And I want face piercings.
> Getting paid more would be nice too.

3. Continue prodding the music scene.

> I love to show people exciting new music.
> I love to build the community and help other artists.
> Playing live shows is one of my biggest thrills.
> A west coast or U.S. tour would be rad too!

4. Start making comic books professionally.

> It’s been a goal of mine since I can remember.
> I have so many ideas in this head.
> There’s not much money in it but it’s something I love.
> If I can make enough to pay the bills, I’ll be happy.

5. Eventually open a small shop/club.

> Starting a business sounds so damn fun.
> I’ve got some pretty good plans for one.
> The main details are a secret for now.
> But it’s going to be awesome.

I also hope to eat healthier, start exercising more, get myself organized, learn more skills, read more books (and comic books!), do more of the things that I like to do, and simply not have any worries. I’m going to live my life the way I want (as cliche as that sounds). No one should ever just let things happen to them. I’ll never let myself get stuck in a daily routine that I didn’t ask for. Far too many people take the easy way out and end up living relatively meaningless lives. Not me!

The future is quite exciting.

Being the Metal Gear fan that I am, when I heard there was a novel about one of my favorite video game series’ of all time, I just had to pick it up for my collection. Click below to read my review.

Author Raymond Benson condenses the original Metal Gear Solid game to book form with undesirable results. Reading it through for the first time (and probably the only time) was a chore, as Benson’s writing comes across as plain and uninteresting. A good chunk of the dialogue was taken directly from the game’s script, and much of the story elements stay very true to the plot, but Benson’s additions simply lack substance. There are only so many ways one can describe the repetitive actions performed by a player during a game and still keep it enjoyable. It’s almost as if Benson followed the game too well, moving from point to point monotonously instead of introducing his own unique take on the story. Being published in 2008, long after the original game, small portions of the book’s writing unnecessarily allude to future Metal Gear Solid game titles. These bits add nothing. The writing already struggles heavily enough trying to compress one very long game into one very short book. As a result, the events become less descriptive, rushed, and robotic. The book’s dead-on copycat approach could have been considered average if not for the terrible depiction of the game’s most important character, Solid Snake. Known for a few charming wisecracks, Snake certainly has a sense of humor, but Benson’s novelization takes the silliness way too far. In addition to consistently making bad jokes that are anything but charming, Snake is often found blurting out one-liners that are either way too cheesy, or just plain out of character. In high contrast to the game, Snake’s presence in the field is anything but stealthy. Instead of sticking silently to the shadows, Snake mercilessly and sloppily picks off every guard he encounters, raising the body count with every rampaging bullet. Benson’s writing does no justice to Snake or any of Kojima’s beloved characters. Other than increasing the physical mass of a Metal Gear fanboy’s collection, there is hardly a good reason for this book to exist.

A few small samples of bad writing:
“The next step was to find Meryl. And when he found her, he didn’t know if he wanted to spank her for disobeying him or kiss her if she was alive and unhurt. Maybe he’d do both.”
> This is just plain cheesy, and the bad kind of cheesy. Not to mention out of character.

“But even though she was green, Snake had to admit she had a lot of balls.”
> She had balls? Okay…

A few things Snake should not be saying but does anyway:
“There’s mouse shit in here.” (said to Colonel Campbell while crawling through the ventilation ducts)
> The fearless veteran operative whining like a girl about getting doo-doo on his sneaking suit…

“Where’s the fire, boys?” (said aloud to some skittering mice)
> Because Snake is just so full of cliche one-liners.

“Your niece is one wacky babe.” (said to Colonel Campbell about Meryl)
> And apparently Snake is one wacky bodacious surfer dude.

“Merry Christmas.” (exclaimed aloud as he punches out two guards) “I forgot to tell you–Christmas is early this year.”
> Merry Christmas? What the hell? Sounds like something from a bad James Bond book–Oh wait, Benson did write a bunch of James Bond books!

“Come on, bitch. Show me where you are!” (thought to himself as he looks for Sniper Wolf)
> Since when does Snake refer to women as bitches?

The single most offensive thing about this book:
> Sometimes changes made in an adapted work are necessary to make the story work with the medium, and if anything Benson should have made a lot more changes to make this book worth reading. However, if there was one thing NOT to change, it’s the way Snake enters the mission. Instead of going in with nothing but a pack of cigs, Benson drops Snake in WITHOUT cigs and armed with the SOCOM! This fact is simply appalling.

So I’ve been drinking soy milk quite regularly lately and I’ve had the pleasure of consuming three different brands thus far. I’d now like to take the time to express my much needed opinion on the matter:

> Pearl Soy Milk: You are delicious. Surprisingly full of flavor with a strange grainy texture that put me off at first though I have since grown to love it.
(Score: 5/5)

> Silk Soy Milk: You’re alright Silk. You kinda have just a little bit of a sour taste but that’s what makes you special. You’re no Pearl, but you’re still pretty darn good.
(Score: 3/5)

> Safeway Organics Soy Milk: You sicken me! Are you like 99% water and 1% cow crap? What the fuck Safeway? Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a little bit; it’s drinkable but not enjoyably so.
(Score: 1/5)

And the winnah is… PEARL!

Now that you’ve read this ridiculously pointless entry, you can now purchase your much desired soy milk with confidence. And don’t forget to take your vitamins, kids!

Click below for more pics

Front view

Gotta love that surface area

What a cute little drawer

Plenty of storage room underneath

The wood matches my display shelf too!

I think people have a hard time buying things for me because everything I want is either way too expensive or way too specific. For example, I’ve wanted a Vespa forever. Ain’t gonna happen. Not that I’d ever expect anyone to spend that much money on me anyway though so that’s kind of a fruitless point.

This post mainly refers to the more reasonable gift ideas that I won’t be unwrapping because everything on my wish list is too unconventional. For instance, if I write down something like “Range Murata PSE Solid Collection Ver 2.0 (Blister pack release, set of 6)” on my Christmas list, not only would nobody know what the fuck that is, they definitely wouldn’t know where to find it even if they did.

Technology is another problem. I love technology, but that means I’m really picky about it too. I can’t just simply ask for a new mouse for Christmas, it’s got to be a “Microsoft White 5 Button Wired Optical IntelliMouse OEM.” Uh… What? My family is not real technical so that’s about fifty things that won’t be on my list right there.

Should be simple right? Just buy me a video game and call it good. Well, as long as it’s the right version in good condition complete with box and manual and I need it for my collection, that would be dandy! See what a pain I am? I’m not an ungrateful brat; I just have specific tastes. That doesn’t mean I won’t like what people give me, because I’m sure I will, and the fact that people gift me with anything is gift enough. After all, it is the thought that counts right? I know, I know. But man a Vespa sure would be nice.

In this digital age, even your filthy habits can now be simulated electronically. The other day I stumbled upon a kiosk at the mall advertising the “E-Cigarette”, an electronic device that acts as a alternative solution to smoking. Intrigued by the idea, I politely asked the salesman, er, what the f— is this thing? Click below to read on.

The E-Cigarette does the job of a real cigarette without the flame, smoke, tar, carbon monoxide, ash, or smell. Inside the device, a battery powers an electronic cartridge that releases fumes. The fumes contain a small amount of nicotine to fulfill the smoker’s chemical dependence, but includes no tobacco or harmful cancer-causing agents. The product looks, feels, and tastes just like a real cigarette, giving the user a psychological feeling of actually smoking one. This way, they can “smoke” anywhere they want and as much as they want without a single nasty side-effect. The user can even decide on the flavor and strength of the fumes, ultimately the amount of nicotine they want in their bloodstream for the day.

I don’t smoke, but with Christmas on the way I considered the E-Cigarette as an interesting gift for my mother. But how much does this marvel of anti-smoking technology cost? The complete package with all the necessary supplies and accessories came to the special sale price of $130. Sorry Mom! Looks like you won’t be quitting this year! As I walked away, the salesman asked, “What’s more important than your mother quitting smoking?” I don’t know man, perhaps my ability to pay rent?

As absurd as this product sounds, the E-Cigarette actually does seem to be an effective tool. Not exactly a solution to nicotine addiction, but with all the money a smoker will save in the long run, not to mention all the toxic chemicals they won’t be inhaling, and all the second hand smoke that I won’t have to breath around them anymore, I’d say the E-Cigarette is a worthy investment to the chronic smoker. Check out Smoking Everywhere for more info.

Get your hand out of my cookie jar! Rawr!

Aside from the extra bit of freedom, turning 21 actually kind of sucks. I now have no more birthdays left to look forward to because each one just means I’m getting older. Fuckin’ A. Well, at least I got some presents! Presents! Yay!

> A Birthday card that plays “Celebrate Good Times” upon opening it
> A Box of Zours candy
> A foam dart gun
> A strange magnetic drawing… thing
> Some “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” boxer shorts
> A lion-shaped cookie jar that roars and says “Get your hand out of my cookie jar!” whenever you open it to get a cookie. It sounds like Mr. T from the A-Team and makes me feel bad for eating cookies. It’s great.

Pretty cheesy gifts but that’s just how my family is. It’s the thought that counts right? My big present from my mother really was fantastic though. I am now in possession of a huge custom wood drafting table! It’s exactly what I needed in order to do some serious comic book work and other art projects. Can’t wait to set it up and start drawing again.

Pajama shirt!

21: The number of years I’ve been alive as of tonight
4: The number of bars I went to in celebration
2 ½: The number of attractive women I noticed at the bars
0: The number of drinks I had

Click below to read on.

For most people, turning 21 means one thing: “I can drink now! Whooo!” And then they go get hammered that very night. Not really for me. I don’t have much of a desire to drink. What I’m excited for is just having the ability to now enter places and attend events that I previously could not have entered or attended. To take advantage of this new freedom, I visited four different 21+ establishments on the night of my 21st birthday, not to drink, but to exercise my newly acquired right to locate myself in places where I could not have been located before! And so my bar-hopping adventures begin:

Bar #1: While waiting for the ferry, my party and I stopped in to a small corner bar to pass the time. It was a homey log-cabin lookin’ place with a comfortable fireplace and several big screen TV’s displaying various sports of which I had no interest. We entered the bar before midnight, so I technically wasn’t even 21 yet when I was carded by the attractive waitress. She had to talk to her boss, but I was allowed to stay as long as we left before 9pm. After eating some delicious bar nachos and tip-toeing past a fat old fart grotesquely making out with some drunken bimbo, we made it back just in time to catch the ferry. Onward to Port Townsend!

Bar #2: In Port Townsend, we stopped in to the Water Street Brewery & Ale House, a happening joint where a bumpin’ party was going down. After showing my ID to the flamboyant doorman, we entered a room decorated with streamers, balloons, and “Happy Birthday!” banners. All around us were drunkards dressed in Chinese dragon costumes, balloon hats, and other party attire, dancing their cares away to the funkadellic live musings of a local cover band. I don’t know whose birthday they were celebrating, but I just pretended it was mine as I kicked back and enjoyed the spectacle. The flamboyant doorman asked me what I wanted for my first drink, to which I replied, “I don’t really drink.” And so I didn’t, but I did get a free t-shirt, delivered to me by the flamboyant doorman personally as a happy birthday offering (and a means of advertising). Pictured above, the shirt features a classy painting of a naked woman about to be gang-raped by demons; just what I always wanted! The shirt was a size too big, but hey, it was free. Waving goodbye to the drunkards and pot-smokers looming about, we continued down the street.

Bar #3: About a block down was Sirens, a bar in the upstairs of some cracked out building. It was difficult to find and when we finally did reach the door, they were already closing for the night. Damn it! I thought I’d get another free t-shirt. Moving on, we sought a place with food.

Bar #4: This place was on the outskirts of town, and being called “The Roadhouse,” I couldn’t help but think of Twin Peaks while picturing a weird skinny white boy like myself getting mobbed by local hicks. When we asked the bumbling doorman about the events for the night, he replied: “DJ music.” DJ music? What the fuck is DJ music? That could mean anything you ignorant hick! The inside was just depressing. One person played pool by themselves as a few homely scattered people lazed about the tables bored out of their mind. The “DJ music” boomed as an elaborate colored lighting system illuminated the completely empty dance floor. The whole scene was just sad; a sorry bunch of pathetic, uncultured drunkards trying desperately to be hip but failing miserably. Nevertheless, we ordered some greasy bar food from the muffin-topped bar girls and had a seat. Not a soul in the bar set foot on the dance floor and eventually the lame DJ just gave up and the night came to a close. I didn’t get mobbed by rednecks, but we were kicked out of the bar rather rudely by some half-drunk lazy-eyed fat bitch. I guess they only like customers who are as scummy as they are.

Even without drinking, I did find entertainment in visiting various bars. I can definitely recognize the appeal of going out to a familiar setting and just forgetting all your worries for a night, although Bar #4 just made me think why the hell would anyone ever go here? what’s the point? Otherwise, with the right atmosphere, observing the erratic behavior of drunkards is always amusing for me.

Started my workout fresh with a new dance pad and a new game: DDR SuperNova 2! They’re up to DDR Universe 3, but I don’t have an Xbox 360, so what! I like my big old PS2. Time to hit the dance floor! Click below to read on.

I’m trying to make it a point to exercise a little bit each day to keep in shape. What better way to do it than with Dance Dance Revolution, which effectively combines great physical activity with my love of video games? After putting on my workout gear (a white tee and red spandex shorts), I’m ready to get my dance on.

Before DDR

You’d be surprised. DDR is more physically demanding than you might think. A vigorous half-hour session on the difficult setting can leave a person exhausted.

After DDR

If I keep this up I’ll be burning more calories than I can eat. Here’s to good health and video games! And here’s to bad English dance pad instructions:

Take good care of this instruction

Don’t worry, I will be very careful.

Is Shaggy a hippie? You be the judge.

One of my co-workers has concluded that I am indeed a hippie. He bases this conclusion on the following observations: 1. I’m liberal, 2. I dress weird, 3. I eat soy, and 4. I like weird music. Alright. Well. Here’s the deal: I’m not a dirty hippe! In fact, I despise hippies! To solidify my point, I shall now compare myself with an actual hippie by taking a look at five major indicators of hippieness. Click the link below to read on.

APPEARANCE
Hippies: Hippies do not present themselves in a civilized manner. They are content with wearing clothes that I would consider garbage (or possibly in fact are garbage) such as a burlap sack, or a tattered blanket that smells like cat urine. They like tie-dye, beads, and knits with Native patterns of earthy colors and other worldly designs that I think look like crap. Many of them grow their tangled and unkempt hair out to unsanitary lengths, often forming it into nappy dreads that will never know the sweet caress of shampoo. The men refuse to shave their grizzly nest-like beards, and the women refuse to shave… anything! They’re all for that naturalist look. In other words, they look like the dirt they walk on, and they smell like the toilet in the bathrooms that they never take showers in.

Me: I shower frequently. I wear deodorant. I understand the importance of grooming and proper hygiene. I make it a point to shave or at least trim my facial hair, as well as remove all other unsightly body hair on a regular basis. The clothes I wear are clean and somewhat stylish. I try to make myself look presentable before going out in public. Hippies do not.

DIET
Hippies: Hippies eat weird shit, okay. You can typically find a hippie shopping for groceries at some kind of organic food market, the kind that charges way too much for food that looks diseased. They’ll also frequent the farmer’s market, purchasing anything as long as it’s tasteless and covered in fresh dirt. A hippie would be content eating grasses and mushrooms from the forest like their animal kin. If it tastes like the earth and you’ve never heard of it, a hippie’s probably eaten it. Because most hippies are vegetarian or vegan, they think they are healthier than the average human, but they are probably just more malnourished than anything.

Me: Disgusting hippie foods do not appeal to me at all. Sure, I eat soy products; I do make an effort to make healthy eating choices, but I don’t take it overboard. I love meat, and I am happy that the food I eat has been sprayed with enough chemicals to stop insects and disease from ruining my meals. I would never waste money on overpriced organics. I need to have flavor in my food. Hippies do not.

LIFESTYLE
Hippies: I would consider many hippies to be lowlifes. In other words, jobless bums without real-world aspirations. They are too busy smoking weed and bitching about “The Man” to hold any kind of real job other than selling incense (or pot) to other hippies at some new-age hippie store. I have no clue how they pay for their expensive organic food, not to mention their house bills. I suppose many of them avoid paying bills by crashing on other people’s couches, or living in the woods among nature, illegally inhabiting tree houses on someone else’s property. Either that or they just live in their hippie vans, which they hardly ever drive because they’d rather trek the earth on their shoeless hippie feet.

Me: I have a job. I have a car. I wear shoes! I am a responsible and productive member of society. I don’t expect anyone else to take me in and pay for my living expenses. I live comfortably because I work for the things I own. Hippies do not.

INTERESTS
Hippies: The typical hippie is interested in only three things: nature, drugs, and folk music. They have a love for anything that looks like it came from the forest, and they enjoy spending their time frolicking in fields or meditating among the trees. They cherish the nature from which they get their much desired supply of hemp products. Hippies love hemp and anything made of hemp, even if it’s ridiculously unnecessary to be made from hemp. Oh, and you can’t forget the drugs. Pot, shrooms, various psychedelics. These “herbal remedies” are always on the hippie mind as they fool themselves into thinking it’s good for them, or that it brings out their artistic creativity. The truth is that drugs are the reason they don’t know the time of day, and the only people who need drugs to be artistic are the people who suck at art. Possibly worse than the drugs is the music. Hippie music can be described as anything that sucks and takes little or no musical ability, namely folk music. Hippies can be found attending folk music festivals or participating in drum circles, an activity where anyone can be a musician as long as they have no rhythm and a passion for making horrible banging noises for hours on end.

Me: I don’t particularly enjoy wildlife or the great outdoors. I can certainly appreciate nature, and I do enjoy outdoor activities on occasion, but nothing to the hippie degree. I don’t give a shit about hemp. I don’t do drugs because I like my brain too much, and I don’t buy into that herbal remedy garbage. In addition, folk music and drum circles make me want to gouge my eardrums out. I like music that sounds good. Hippies do not.

BELIEFS
Hippies: The wishy-washy beliefs of hippies are ridiculously unrealistic and full of conspiracy theorist bullshit. They think “The Man” is out to get them, and relish in the idiotic idea of anarchy. Hippie politics are out of whack, and their views aren’t as much liberal as they are just retarded. Hippies are hypocrites that hate the government and yet beg for someone to pick up their slack. They spend far too much time attending useless peace rallies and protests, doing absolutely nothing except showing how much time they don’t spend being productive. They think we need to legalize drugs, tear down all borders, and let the people do whatever they please because we’re all free children of this earth. They fail to recognize that the real-world implementation of such ridiculous ideals would have a catastrophic impact on human civilization. If hippies had it their way, the already bad economy would turn to shit, our balance would turn to chaos, and society as we know it would crumble from beneath our feet.

Me: I have some pretty liberal views, but liberal does not equal hippie by any means. I love the government and the systems we’ve implemented into our society to maintain order. I believe anarchy is an idea created by idiots and people who are not fit to live among other human beings. I realize that true freedom comes from rules and restraint. Hippies do not.

To conclude, hippies are wishy-washy environmentalist lowlife scum. I am not. Case closed.