(no subject)
Considering I'm now essentially homeless, on pain of being perpetually grossed out by my housemates, I'm feeling surprisingly chipper. Perhaps it's the fact that I just spent 12 hours on the internet, after a period of long withdrawal.
I've managed to get so much done, even apart from that. One thing that has been exacerbating my frustration for quite some time is my Dreamcast, my only link to a better world, which came with a faulty lens. It frequently forgets there is a disc inside it, and quits to the main menu at the most annoying of times. Convinced I wasn't having quite enough fun with it, I splurged nearly $200 on a European import and boot disc for a program called REZ, which I am convinced is the greatest game ever. Of course, this game did not work at all, and the store I purchased it from apparently does not give refunds, contrary to the messages printed on their receipts. Infuriated, I left the disc there, and came back today to find that they discerned the problem. My Dreamcast, which they think I bought off them (I actually traded that one with a friend for a Saturn and bought the new faulty one), is an older model, which does not accept boot discs as advertised. They are therefore obliged to replace it. I'd really been worried that the disc would have worked on their test machine, which would have made my complaint seem stupid, but now I'm getting a Dreamcast full of new hotness, sacrificing my old and busted one. Score! I'm just praying my old one hasn't been stolen yet. I've been gone a whole two days, after all.
Walk out the mall, and what do I behold? Oktoberfest! I'd never realized it was so close to Thanksgiving. I got a sort of a special dinner for this greatest of holidays, then, and it's really for the best that I'm free on this coming weekend, as I have to serve a ritual sacrifice I've had going for the last five years to the local God, Shichi. He inhabits a street lamp a few neighborhoods over from mine, and demands a yearly sacrifice on this day of days of box matches, red gummy feet (to simulate blood) and chef boyardee to assuade his powerful hunger. In his mercy he lets me take the scraps, as his real hunger is for electricity, obviously.
I've managed to get so much done, even apart from that. One thing that has been exacerbating my frustration for quite some time is my Dreamcast, my only link to a better world, which came with a faulty lens. It frequently forgets there is a disc inside it, and quits to the main menu at the most annoying of times. Convinced I wasn't having quite enough fun with it, I splurged nearly $200 on a European import and boot disc for a program called REZ, which I am convinced is the greatest game ever. Of course, this game did not work at all, and the store I purchased it from apparently does not give refunds, contrary to the messages printed on their receipts. Infuriated, I left the disc there, and came back today to find that they discerned the problem. My Dreamcast, which they think I bought off them (I actually traded that one with a friend for a Saturn and bought the new faulty one), is an older model, which does not accept boot discs as advertised. They are therefore obliged to replace it. I'd really been worried that the disc would have worked on their test machine, which would have made my complaint seem stupid, but now I'm getting a Dreamcast full of new hotness, sacrificing my old and busted one. Score! I'm just praying my old one hasn't been stolen yet. I've been gone a whole two days, after all.
Walk out the mall, and what do I behold? Oktoberfest! I'd never realized it was so close to Thanksgiving. I got a sort of a special dinner for this greatest of holidays, then, and it's really for the best that I'm free on this coming weekend, as I have to serve a ritual sacrifice I've had going for the last five years to the local God, Shichi. He inhabits a street lamp a few neighborhoods over from mine, and demands a yearly sacrifice on this day of days of box matches, red gummy feet (to simulate blood) and chef boyardee to assuade his powerful hunger. In his mercy he lets me take the scraps, as his real hunger is for electricity, obviously.