Attack!

So there's this great new facebook thing I discovered last week. It's an application called "Attack!" and it has changed my life. Basically, they decided to give people a way to not only waste time with social networking, stalking and the desperate seeking of a mate; you can now also throw away your life by playing Risk online! It's the greatest thing ever.

The game has been perfectly copied with some side benefits added. For example, most people will say that they rarely finish a game because inevitably someone becomes so furious they obliterate the board; thus forever leaving who the victor would have been shrouded in mystery. But that never happens online! It's fantastic, especially for one who generally causes that kind of despair in an opponent. :)

I only really have two complaints (shocking, I know). The first and foremost is, the dice roll system is entirely automated. You can't even click a button, they just get rolled. If I lose a battle, I want to lose because I rolled poorly. I realize this isn't even valid, as a dice roll is entirely random regardless of whether it is done by me or by a machine. But still, it would make me feel better.

My second complaint is the lack of ability to intimidate people. In a game of Risk, your bearing and facial expression are just as important as your actual strategy. Often times you can bluff your way out of a potentially devastating attack with a well-placed smirk or chuckle. To solve this problem, I propose some kind of face thing which your opponents would be able to see. There would be a bunch of buttons you could click on that would change its expression, such as "Grimace", "Smirk", "Grin Triumphantly", and "Ponder". I really think it would add a great element to the game.

There you have it. This was kind of a ramble of a post, but that's fine. I'm probably going to read it more than it's actually read by viewers anyway. I love making myself chuckle.

Apologies and Reparations

So my dear Andrea has alerted me to a distinct lack of posting going on on ye olde blog...e. I wrote only one in the entire month of October.

Due to this obscene lack of involvement and in an attempt to assuage the guilt, grief and suffering experienced by the good people who actually read this, the following statement has been issued by the Assistant Secretary of Trevor-Foreign Relations:

We, the People of Trevor, do hereby and officially apologize to those outsiders who have been damaged, many irreparably so, by the noble dictator's actions, or rather lack thereof. We offer the best and most tender comfort we can in words which could only come from an inspired orator such as he: "There, there. You're very pretty."

I couldn't have said it better myself.

I prefer unawareness...

So this week at UVSC is officially "Disabilities Awareness Week", and I've never seen anything more insulting.

My entire life's endeavor has been disability unawareness. When I meet a new person or people, I don't want them to think of me as 'The Guy in the Wheelchair'. Of course, there's not a lot I can really do about that so I try to somehow amend the title I can't escape with precursor words. 'The Funny Guy in the Wheelchair', or even 'The Hot Guy in the Wheelchair' are good examples of titles that are pleasing. But it's really irritating to be known by an object my butt happens to be stuck to a lot.

Also, my number one pet peeve is when people assume that because my legs don't work, my brain must not work either. Believe you me, friends, there is nothing more degrading than being treated like you're mentally handicapped. Whenever some idiot comes to me with a condescending smile, hands on their knees, using a voice reserved for very small annoying dogs, I feel like punching them in the face. "Disabilities Awareness Week" is just the sort of event that encourages that mentality.

The best way to make 'handicapped' people feel comfortable and accepted is to not treat them differently at all. I always forget I'm in a wheelchair until people ask me those questions they're afraid to ask (what happened to you, what's your disease called, is it genetic, etc.). I'm not saying I'm too proud to accept help sometimes, but there is a vast difference between accommodation and overbearing, constant reminders.

I seriously considered writing a letter to someone, but two things stopped me. First: I have vowed never to become one of those whiny, self-pitying fools that seem to comprise the majority of the group labeled 'people in wheelchairs'. Second: I really didn't know who to write to. I'm sure the second issue could have been dealt with quite easily, but the first will probably hold my tongue time and time again. Oh well. 'That's life', as they say in France.

A softer view of things

As an experiment, I have for the past week not listened to any hard rock. Those of you who know me will also know how excruciating a trial this has been for me. However, as it nears its' completion I find that it has been a very good and educational experience.

My appreciation for other genres has increased by leaps and bounds, and the constant drone of Craig's Metallica has become, to say the least, an irritant. I never realized how ridiculous that band is. It's music for 30 year old men who live in their parents basement and wish they were good at fighting. How sad.

Other various bands whom I previously loved have also lost their appeal. The constant anger, frustration, angst and overall unrest is almost tiring. Often times I would be irritated for no reason and wonder to myself "What am I all upset about? Everything is going great and I have no valid reason to be angry but I am." I think I found the answer. This sort of music really feeds those emotions no matter how small the initial feeling, and soon you're in a rage over virtually nothing. Very interesting indeed.

This is not to say I'll give it up entirely. It's great to work out to. I will definitely lay off the stuff a large amount though. I just feel better this way.

Say "No" to mutants

After the battle of the bands show Bruce, my brother Tylor, myself and a newly acquired tongan friend Mika caught this huge, weird-looking bug. The front of it looked like a crab; it had a crab's head, the little beady crab eyes, even pincers. The back half looked like a cockroach body. It was all sick brown and had wings capable of flight. The length of the body was a little more than 3 inches and it was an inch and a half wide.

So we catch the thing and put it in a bottle and I of course say "How much will you guys pay me to eat it?" Bruce offers 25 bucks, Ty's friend Adam offers 5, and the tongan offers his respect (which alone makes it worth it in my book). So it was on.

After pouring the thing out of the bottle and struggling to catch it for about 10 minutes, I finally had the devil in my hand. Bruce is filming the entire incident, so I make sure to hold it nice and close to the camera so all can see very brave and hearty I am. Then, without further adieu, I put the sucker in my mouth.

It takes 5 minutes of straight chewing, and the thing tastes like a horrid mixture of swamp water, eggs and sage. The wings, in particular, are exceptionally chewy and take longer than the whole rest of the creature to soften up. Everyone is saying how gross it is and laughing and Tylor is trying not to puke his wee weak guts out. It was hilarious.

Saturday morning. I wake up with a fever, a severe headache, a sore throat, and have lost all desire for food. "What could have possibly caused this," I deliriously wonder to myself. It couldn't have been the bug, could it? No. Not possible. If it was the bug, I'd have like diarrhea or I would be vomiting or something. Wouldn't I? We may never know.

The simple fact is I'm still sick and that 25 bucks sounds like less and less the more I tell people. We don't need a wheel of morality for this one folks; just don't eat giant mutant crab-cockroach bugs. Trust me.

Concert Report

Well I'm told it went well. To go on and on about how we owned the opening band and played the best we ever have would be prideful, so I'll leave it to my younger and rash brother. I was really pleased though. The only problem we really had was the microphone deciding to go out during our last and probably best song "High". I'm still not quite sure the blasted thing will still work, but what can you do?

The thing I was really pleased about though was a comment the drummer of the other band made to me. "This is the largest crowd we've ever played to man," he told me. Sweet. These guys have been at this for 2 years plus and our first show is bigger than all their previous ones. I took that to hopefully be a sign of good things to come. Friday we have the battle of the bands at Ream's and the following Wednesday we try out for a similar event held at UVSC. I'm told the attendance is supposed to be somewhere near 500 people, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed that things will go well and we will get in.

Thanks to everybody who came out to support us and special thanks to my beautiful Andrea. I don't know what it would have been without you, girl. Probably a whole lot less vacuumed three times over. ;) You're the best.

The sleep never comes

So my band, Part II, is having our first show tomorrow (well technically today, I guess) and sleep seems impossible right now. I'm absurdly worried about whether or not there will be a decent amount of people, what if I forget lyrics, what if we just suck and we thought we were good this whole time, you know. The usual. I'm also ridiculously excited. Because the possibility that the exact opposite of my worst fears comes to pass and the event is a rousing success.

Regardless, displaying a very intimate part of my soul in front of a crowd of people whom I largely know on a first name basis is going to be intense. There's no getting around it. Entertaining people you don't know is much easier, as they don't feel obligated to like it and you (the entertainer) don't feel pressured by expectations, imagined or otherwise. I think this is going to be a really good learning experience for me either way. There will be a post-concert post summarizing the evening's proceedings, I'm sure. Until then, my brethren, I bid you adieu.