Disparate Palaver
So I get home today, and who would be waiting for me there but Nat. We hadn’t made any arrangements for the obligatory REORT (Returning Each Other’s Respective Things), so I was naturally surprised to see her sitting on my couch, playing my DS, with a box of assorted, familiar items resting at her feet. Didn’t seem like any big deal to me at first. I did give her my spare key, after all. She used to wait there to surprise me after work all the time. I was used to it.
Unfortunately, Zooey was already coming over, which I thought might be trouble, but I figgered hey, we’re all rational adults here. Sure, Zooey wasn’t entirely aware of Nat’s, you know, significance, or the fact that her (Zooey’s) own role in the Saga of Me had slightly overlapped it chronologically, like maybe by a couple weeks, but hey, she’s bound to find out sooner or later. I’m allowed to see my ex, I don’t recall ever needing some sort of regal imprimatur. I gotta get my stuff back, right? We can be civil about this.
Accusations. Shouting match. Got kicked in the balls. Sheesh. Actors. At least I got my underwear back.
In other news, a coworker, specifically, my cubemate, pointed out to me the other day that the ladies’ room was getting a shiny new six-sink counter, which he regarded as unfair because our company is almost 80% male, yet the men’s room only has three sinks, all of which leak and have no cold water. I agreed with him at first, as I generally do - our respective cynicismical personalities play off of each other in twelve-part harmony, the interaction having an effect not unlike connecting the opposing leads of two 9-volt batteries together and putting the whole thing in a microwave, that is to say, we get along quite well - but then I got to thinking, which I like doing from time to time, and it occurred to me that introducing any measurable amount of extravagance into a restroom specially tailored for a demographic that lines up along a wall to urinate is more or less entirely unnecessary. Look, I’m thankful that we even get soap. There was a big party when we got upgraded to single-ply toilet paper from, I guess it was, what, half-ply?
Lego Star Wars - The Video Game is terribly excellent. The reviews I’ve read have all put it in the 7.5-ish out of 10 range, and I think these people must be jaded about something. Perhaps every videogame journalist in the world was simultaneously dumped by his girlfriend the night before this game was released. I’ll admit, I really thought it would beef hard and chunkily, I almost wanted it to do so with aplomb, even though I hate plums. That was an awful pun and I should be ashamed.
Lego Star Wars is one of those games that you just know is going to suck like a monarch, id est, royally. It is also one of those games that does not in fact suck royally, and instead bes awesome royally, and considering the fact that it is not hard to find it for $35, you really may as well. ‘Cubers are out of luck, and I wouldn’t dare play such a game on a PC, but you PS2 and XBox ding-dongs should be good to go.
The pod race was absolutely infuriating, though. It made me want to kill babies, and I really don’t mind babies.
I have to say that our time together has been wonderful. It’s rare that you click with someone as well as we did, and it makes it that much harder when the time finally comes to part ways. If it weren’t for a few niggling issues creating space between us, I think we really could’ve been in it for the long haul.