Well, I just listened to that interview I did for that gaming podcast thingy, and I only have one thing to say... goddamn have I become a boring fucker in my old age. What the fuck was I saying?! "Blah, blah, blah, CD-ROM, blah, blah, push the envelope, blee, bloo, blargh, the kids today, blibbedy, blobbedy, barf." I swear to god, the next time I do something like that, I gotta get myself seriously liquored up or something. Feh.
Then, like a moron, after it was over, I decided to check in on the chat room for the site, just to see what kind of people listen to the show. I logged in as "Crabbydad," thinking that I'd be nice and anonymous. So I'm on there for like five seconds and someone types, "Hey Crabbydad. Are you [my fucking name]?" I'm like, what the shit?! What are the odds that the one person who reads this drivel is in that chatroom?! Turns out it's someone who had found out about the blogs for the people who work for my company (how, I have no idea) and they had read my post about "doing an interview with some nerdarinos." Super. And by the way, as King of the Nerdarinos, I meant it as a term of endearment, like "chum" or "confrere," and not as a word meaning, say, "little nerdling who frequents gaming podcasts."
But they were very nice there, asking questions about our games and our plans for the future and shit. It would've all been very wholesome, had I not felt like some old fart lurking in some teenaged bull session. But instead, it had a whiff of creepitude. So I bolted.
Anywhiff, I'm glad it's over. Now I've gotta hit the hay and have another dream like I did last night, where I was lying in a hammock with a miniature, angry, growling silverback gorilla standing next to me. I haven't figured out what it meant yet -- the tiny gorilla either represents the frustrations I've been feeling by not being able to express myself musically lately, or it means I really need to shave my back.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go fling my feces at the wall.
5 comments:
Hey! Sorry about revealing your secret identity, really am. I guess I'm a **little** obsessed "Smelly Jision" (wouldn't want to reveal the actual company now). It gives me something to do, and as I mentioned before being a writer there is like my ultimate dream. Not only that but the posts on your blog and Arnie's are so freakin' hilarious I can't stop myself. I found out about the blogs by innocently typing the company name into Google which lead me to a Year Following the Breakup which led me to the other folks' blogs. Again, **really** sorry if I caused any long-lasting emotional or physical damage.
Thanks SO much for answering my burning questions. Most teens my age dream of someday talking to...Brittney Spears or Johnny Depp or something. Me? A "Smellyvisioneer." Oh well.
Really cool stuff, one more thanks.
-Soypowered
So.
This has nothing to do with this post other than that I think it's hilarious, and you sound like you need a laugh OLD NERDARINO MAN.
http://finslippy.typepad.com/finslippy/2005/05/i_just_have_to_.html
Soy, don't apologize. It actually was fun and it's always nice to know that people are still interested in the wacky stuff we create. Just keep toiling away in gaming chatrooms and avoiding actual contact with well-adjusted teens your own age and you'll be well on your way to becoming a "Smellyvisioneer."
Kim, thanks for the link. It accomplished two things: 1. it made me laugh and B. it reminded me why the old lady and I stopped procreating. And it made me depressed because it was better written than any of the crap I ever post. Thanks... kinda.
dud, you desperately need one of the following:
1. a massage with happy ending
2. an assistant or nanny
3. a vacation sans kids.
!!!!!
that said, I have no idea what podcast you are talking about, haven't followed you-know-who-vision since You Don't Know Jack, and am your age. I don't feel old, and neither should you.
Then again, I just had a facial. It's amazing what having someone squeeze every little pore on your face will do for you.
Maybe bettybeauty.com is next!
Stilleto, I like how you say "you-know-who-vision" and then you come right out and say "You Don't Know Jack." Remind me never to tell you where I live if I'm ever in the Witness Protection program.
And I'll take any one of those three options... though I'll probably just end up with the "FunBetty."
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