Super Mario Galaxy Torture

Recently I've been playing Super Mario Galaxy 2, and it's certainly grown on me. When I first got the game, I just never got that into it, and I ended up pushing it aside. For some reason or another, I decided to give a second shot. Over the course of this game, I've gone from "Well, I guess this game is alright" to "Oh, hey, this is nice, in the later levels they're bringing back some of the difficulty of the earlier games" to "GAH, FUCK YOU MARIO, FUCK YOU."

That Italian chap looks so innocent on the cover, but that's how he gets you.

In some senses I've really appreciated the difficulty, but in other sense it really feels satanic. Sometimes you'll get a difficult star and feel a sense of accomplishment, only for the game to slap you back with "Alright, cool, do it again without getting hit and I'll give you another star." or "Cool, do it again in less than a minute." The game seems to have a sadistic level of hate within it. I'm convinced this game was not created by man but rather by a robot that can only feel pain as his revenge on mankind for creating him. No matter what you do to appease the game, you just can't. You do something, it wants you to do it faster. You do something else, it wants it more accurate. It's like a daughter with no siblings trying to appease her dad who always wanted a son. Sure, maybe you CAN throw a football, but you throw like a girl, so he's just going to offhandedly toss a a star your way and tell you to throw better if you want any more.

I don't understand, is this a puzzle game now? W-what... you want me... to platform across that... thing?

Perhaps the biggest kick in the nuts comes when you get 120 stars and have reason to believe that you've beaten the game.

At that point the game informs you casually that there are 120 MORE stars for you to go collect. It's like you finally learned out to play football like a pro and your dad congratulates you and says "Alright, come on, I'll teach you baseball now."

All I'm saying is that either way you might be better off sticking to ballet.

The Face of Judgement

Today was Father's Day. Since my family was especially busy the last week, we never really got the chance to get together and purchase gifts for my dad. Due to this, I took it upon myself to run around today and grab a couple of things myself.

One of the major stops I made was for a gift card. Considering that my dad has been exercising lately, he's been losing a lot of weight so his clothing size has been changing. I didn't want to bother picking out something for him and chancing it not fitting, so I decided a gift card would be a much nicer, safer route.

As I went to the register to purchase my gift card, the cashier eye'd me slightly and the conversation began:

Myself: "I'd like to purchase a gift card, please."

Cashier: "...for Father's day?"

As she said it, one eyebrow perked up and she gave me a disapproving look. The type of look that says "Don't think that this is an alright thing to do just because I'm still going to sell it to you anyways".

This woman was not my cashier, but she may as well have been.

I quickly tried to explain myself, stating that "Well, yes, but I didn't want to pick out something he wouldn't like" or that I "didn't want to get something that wouldn't fit" but as I caught her icy glare, I realized it was already too late and she had already entered full-out judging mode.

When I had entered the store, I had never stopped to think that I might be so harshly judged. It was an odd feeling since I constantly go to the supermarket and buy 20 vitamin waters and a big box of cookies and reserve less judging looks, and in that scenario, considering I do it week after week, I don't think I'd be able to truly go without some level of inquisition if I were the cashier. I mean, why would this person be doing this? If they're buying so many vitamin waters, perhaps they're trying to stay healthy, but then why would they purchase cookies? If they want the cookies, why would they not purchase milk? Are they from some sort of vitamin water cult? Are they purchasing cookies for the next cult pot luck? HOW MANY GODDAMN POTLUCKS DO THESE BASTARDS HAVE?

But I digress.

The stare I approved from the woman today was much less understandable and yet much harsher. I could feel the depths of my very soul get colder, and yet she sold me the gift card anyways. Fortunately, I soon got out of that cold, unforgiving environment and was on my merry way, as I picked up a couple smaller things for my dad.

While shopping I came across this, and knew it was a necessary purchase:

When later presenting these gifts to my dad, it took every ounce of my willpower to prevent myself from throwing this plush right at my dad and running away but, considering the fact that I managed to withhold myself from this line of action, I feel I can now sleep considering myself to be a good son, regardless of what the woman at the mall might think.

The Throw Rug Who Lived

Over the past week, I've been staying with some family friends since my family has been away.

The whole experience has been really great, honestly, and just a whole lot of fun. Each morning, however, before work I go stop by my house to grab some things and say hello to Otis and Lola.

Lola, as she is prone to do, feigns indifference from the couch but wags her tail steadily, quite happy to see me. Otis goes through the motions of grabbing whichever toy is closest and coming up towards the gate for me to play with him.

However, Otis has now added a new part to his routine. Each time I walk in, Otis brings me a toy, we play for a few minutes, then he starts whining. It's not a normal "please-give-me-the-treat-thanks" whine, but rather a shrill "someone-just-killed-my-firstborn-in-front-of-me-and-I-also-still-want-that-goddamn-treat-thanks" whine. At first I thought this whine was merely because Otis realized that no one else in the family had come home with me, but I've been starting to realize that perhaps this whine could be something more.

Perhaps... Otis has realized that I've been cheating on him.

You see, as I learned rather quickly, the intriguing throw rug that our family friends seem to often have in different places around their house is actually a dog. A cute and energetic dog at that. A dog that can apparently jump 5 times it's own height to reach my bed in the morning to wake me up.

Their dog, Maddie, is completely adorable. She's managed to actually be the first dog I've seen who knows how to play fetch, which turns out is rather different than Otis's favorite game of "You throw the ball, and once I get it I'll never let you have it again". In fact, she plays fetch 24/7, even long after you yourself have tired of it.

Though I've grown to love Maddie greatly, I've become rather jealous of her way of life, as her biggest concern, at all times, seems to be "Where's the ball?". Still, perhaps we can all learn something from Maddie.

...

Or, considering I can hide the ball behind my back and have her run around the whole house looking for it, perhaps we can't.

(Note: I'll add some pictures of Maddie and Otis's broken heart tomorrow)