Using two lockers at the gym is a dick move

Seldom does a day go by where at least once, I don’t think to myself how great it would be if I were Luke Cage.  A fairly unsuspecting guy who can blend in anywhere he goes, but he’s really practically invulnerable and has super strength and for the most part doesn’t ever have to be afraid of anyone because not just anyone can actually harm him with fists, knives or even bullets.

Seriously, if I had the capabilities of Luke Cage, I probably wouldn’t go off and become a Defender and try to be any sort of a superhero.  Superheroes get super villains, and then there are a whole lot of superhero responsibilities that come with being one.  No, I’d just want to capitalize on the confidence of knowing that I’m pretty much invincible and start doing all the things I think and say in my head, and say them out loud, since all fear of physical retribution is off the table if one were Luke Cage.

If I saw someone littering outside, I could actually not be reluctant to call out and reprimand them and then force them to pick up their shit.  They could step up all they wanted, and even throw the first punch, but when I’m Luke Cage, their fist would get shattered, and then they’d have to do what I told them, lest I grab them by the collar and personally walk them to some police or something.  Or if I’m on public transportation, and someone is blasting music out of their earbuds that everyone can hear, I can tap them on the shoulder and ask them to turn it down, and when they escalate the situation from their rotten defiance, I can wait for them to try and land the first blow and then dominate them without any fear of harm.

The list of things that would be great if I were Luke Cage could go on for days honestly, but of all the things that could possibly actually get this particular post off the ground, it would be calling out people at the gym, that for whatever reason it is, feel the need to occupy two lockers in the locker room to store their shit.

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How blinking traffic lights should be

One of the few good and bad things about my current commute is that I don’t have to touch the highway at all, which is a rarity when it comes to working in the Metro Atlanta area, unless you happen to live within the actual city limits. Good, because I can’t remember the last time I found myself hating life while sitting in traffic on I-85, I-75, or the 75/85 Connector, that has no reason behind the fact that the world is overpopulated, Atlanta is overpopulated and has no transit.

However, it’s occasionally bad, because of the series of local surface streets I use to get around and about are kind of rural, mostly one lane in each direction, subject to actually being affected by averse weather conditions, and the simple fact that most people driving are vastly probably not legally competent to have a driver’s license in the first place. But mostly a combination of the one lane directions and stupid drivers are why I’m brogging about this in the first place.

Quick, explain what you’re supposed to do when you approach a blinking red light, and a blinking yellow light.

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Fantasizing about “fixing” Atlanta’s traffic woes

After a morning which saw an 84-minute drive into work, and an additional 20 minute wait at Starbucks, I’m finally settled in at my desk a solid hour after when I would have preferred to have done such.

Seriously, the next time I wake up at my house and hear pelting rain and torrential downpour, and it’s a day in which carpooling wasn’t scheduled, I’m going to say I’ve contracted cholera, and call in sick.

I’m finding that my criteria of what constitutes a “good” morning grows lower and lower, and it’s getting to a point where nightmarish traffic is expected, and I’m just happy when the douchebag in front of me at Starbucks doesn’t pay with the Starbucks app, which conveniently my daily Starbucks does not have the hardware to accept in any other fashion than necessitating three minutes to punch in every single digit before the screen goes back to sleep.

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Parking Wars: Fairfax County

Over the weekend, I was back in my old stomping grounds, visiting my family and some old friends.  That in itself is a whole other story, but one of the things that stuck with me over this last trip was the sheer amount, or lack of parking there seems to be back in ol’ Fairfax County.

Parking has always been an issue up there, with there being vastly way more cars needing to park at places where there is no space, but during this past trip up, it was somehow worse than I’ve ever seen it before.  Granted, in this particular visit, Northern Virginia was still recovering from a lot of snow, with there being monumental banks of snow still unmelted and awaiting a rise in the temperatures for it to fully dissipate, but in so many instances, these giant hills of snow were more or less piled up in parking spaces, curbs, or along sidewalks.  None of this helped the perilous plight of parking, but I can’t imagine that things would be dramatically better if they weren’t around either.

Needless to say, from the time I arrived back in Fairfax County, it didn’t take long for me to see the ridiculousness of how far people went to secure their parking, because there’s frankly so little of it available.

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This is Ahri before Ahri was cool

Ahri is a character from the online arena game, League of Legends.  She’s based loosely on an Asian mythical nine-tailed fox, that depending on which country you’re asking, has variations on its story.  Most of them depict the nine-tailed fox as an evil creature, mostly utilizing deception, trickery, and/or seduction to commit its evil deeds.  But since the design of the character is so leaning towards Korean in appearance and clothing, I’m lead to the belief that it’s a Korean iteration, the character is loosely based around.

I have this book of translated Korean fairy tales, that a cousin got for my sister when I was young that I somehow came to inherit.  It’s full of entertaining stories and a glimpse of culture differences, but one of the stories dealt with the nine-tailed fox.  And as is the case with most stories involving the nine-tailed fox, it’s evil, and it’s out to kill shit.  But the origins are essentially the same; girl is killed by the nine-tailed fox, nine-tailed fox takes the form of the girl, starts wrecking shit up.  In this story, Ahri kills horses and eats their livers, before killing her parents eventually.  Her brother is eventually the one who kills her, and in the aftermath the true form of a corpse of a fox with nine tails is discovered.

But the above imagery is a stark contrast to the sexified Ahri that’s available to play in LoL today.

50,712 words later

Another year attempted, another year succeeded.  In spite of hiatuses such as NekoCon and a lengthy trip out to Arizona, I still managed to get my 50,000 words done, for another year.

The Baseball Gods Must Be Crazy, a story about Texas Rangers manager Ron Washington, the agony of defeat, torment from the intangible Pressure, and the pursuit of Salvation; from a highly unexpected and ambitious source.  I’m not going to lie, much of this is putrid, so I won’t be bothering to share it with the rest of the world.  But I’m still pleased, nonetheless, at my ability to actually put forth the effort and get 50,000 words out in the allotted time span, despite my hurky-jerky schedule these days.

So with this literary challenge successfully traversed for another year, I’m free to pursue other things again, like writing on my brog, updating my baseball park site and reading books and works of far talented, successful and legitimate authors, instead of hacking away at my own swill.  Also, I’ll be delving into Dead Island.  That is, when I can wrest Xbox time away from Jen, who’s playing Skyrim.

Great idea for a new movie

This past weekend, I found myself watching some movies, which included Rubber, and Sucker Punch.  Despite the fact that both movies have absolutely nothing in common in terms of plot, setting, eras, or even actors, I found out that they actually have one gigantic thing in common: Neither of the movies made any fucking sense.  I guess you could also say they had some other things in common, like that they both stunk, and were both disappointing.

But I’m not going to lie, I did find it somewhat thought provoking, the essential premise of Rubber, that there is an awareness inherently that there is a ton in the world around us that exists and/or happens for absolutely no reason at all.   Sucker Punch, however, was a piece of shit, that if not for the obvious eye candy of Emily Browning parading around in a 13-year old’s wet dream, and in the like-minded sarcastic, unimpressed company in which I watched it with, I probably wouldn’t have bothered to sit through.

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