The Second Coming (of the Saints. Jesus is still on Vacation)

I had a wonderful Thanksgiving, and I hope you can all say likewise. Also, when did "tryptopantastic" become a word? I think I should be notified about these things. Is there a mailing list I can get on or something?

I saw Boondock Saints 2. I wasn't expecting much, and for that reason I was very pleasantly surprised that they actually did a really good job with this film. In large part, it's a rehash of the first. If you liked the first one, you'll almost definitely like the sequel. And if you didn't like the first one, you'll be equally nonplussed by this.

For the most part, it follows almost exactly the same formula as the first one, tossing in a reference to its predecessor approximately three times per scene. In some ways it reminds me of most comedy sequels, where they simply reuse all the old jokes with a new coat of paint. It does, however, manage to be a wonderful time for the fans of the first one. I saw it at one PM on a Saturday, and the theater was so packed that my brother and I had to sit in the front row to find two seats next to each other. And everyone in that theater seemed to respond fairly well to the movie, roaring with laughter and applause with a frequency which made me grateful of the fact Troy Duffy was presumptuous enough to throw in a pause for laughs after most of the better jokes.

The old jokes are recycled, but usually in a clever enough way to still be funny. The film brings very little new to the table, but it does manage to deftly revive almost everything we loved about the old one. The brothers, their father are played by the same three actors, the bumbling Irish cops from the first movie come back (they seem to have had a couple acting lessons since the first one) with an unexpectedly humorous new routine, and even the untimely demise of David Dela Rocco's character in the first movie doesn't stop him from having a couple of monologues.

Clifton Collins Jr., is rather awkwardly shoehorned into his role as the new sidekick. He is introduced as some kind of untouchable kung fu Spaniard, but that entire aspect of his character is instantly forgotten as he spontaneously adopts Rocco's persona as the slightly-retarded but well-connected sidekick. Still, he manages to make the role his own to some degree, and by the end of the movie I found myself viewing him as more than just a Rocco-clone.

One thing I was disappointed in was Julie Benz. I loved her on Angel, and I don't think she can be held personally responsible for this, but she simply couldn't reproduce Willem Dafoe. If the moviemakers had realized that, she's pretty and talented enough that she could have given them something to work with, but it seems that somebody in charge was insistent that she be cast as a female version of Willem Dafoe's character from Boondock Saints I, and that just wasn't happening.

One aspect of the film I really liked was that while the Saints are certainly a couple of badass action heroes, they aren't very bright and they generally don't plan very well. The first film made a minor note of this, particularly in the penthouse shootout scene, but in this movie the point is really driven home that these guys have absolutely no idea what they are doing. It reminds the audience that this isn't a formulaic action flick so much as a parody of formulaic action flicks.

Which, in the end, is what makes or breaks this movie. As a simple action or a simple comedy, it is probably sub-par. Some films, like Shoot-Em-Up, are action movies that aren't meant to be taken seriously. this is a comedy that is meant to be taken seriously. In the end, you will probably feel the same way about this movie that you did about the first one.

Excellent...

So I informed my boss the other day that I had decided that I would be cutting back on my classes so that I could keep coming to work. As casually as if my roommate were informing me that no, I didn't need to go out because he'd already picked up milk, she tells me that it won't be necessary, because the hours would be heavily reduced in February anyway, and there would be no trouble keeping me under 20 hours per week.

Awesome. It would have been great to know this before I spent weeks freaking out about it, but still, awesome. So now I just need to find a permanent job, preferably back in St Louis, and I'll finally be ready to take my life off pause.

Things are looking up.

Sometimes I wish I were an Eloy

Wow, so once again, I haven't posted in like a bajillilon years. Or a couple weeks, you be the judge.

Working a full time job while also tackling a four-class graduate school schedule is a royal pain in the ass. It's probably not nearly as exhausting as actually working two full time jobs, but it's still pretty heavy. I'm glad the semester is about to end. I've pretty much decided that I'm keeping the job, which means I won't be graduating until December of next year. Boo, hiss, and damn.

On the plus side, I get to build some work history, take the academic side of things relatively easy, and whatever CPA tests I don't finish in the summer, I can wrap up during my very moderate Fall semester. Furthermore, even if I don't find work right after graduation, I should be able to do the HR Block thing again next tax season to make some money and pad my resume a bit more.

I'm exhausted almost all the time now, though. I have no energy to go out, hit the gym, or even make more than a minimal attempt at my schoolwork. The stress is definitely taking a toll on my sanity. Between Thanksgiving break this week and the two weeks I'm taking off for my finals, I should be fine in terms of my grades, but I definitely would not even consider trying to work this schedule for an entire semester. At least I'll make enough money to fix up my car and go Christmas shopping.

Oh, yeah, my car needed fixing up. Wednesday morning, I awoke to my cat biting rather harshly into my arm. I swatted him away and went back to bed, not realizing that this was cat for "dude, your alarm didn't go off, you were supposed to wake up like 20 minutes ago!" Eventually, I saw the clock, and it was almost an hour later than I typically wake. I sprang out of bed, ran into the shower, shaved, and ironed a shirt in just 25 minutes. I actually had a chance of making it to work until I blew a tire. Unlike the first time I had a blowout, I noticed this one quick enough to pull the car over to the road instead of driving on the rim.

So I get out into the very cold November morning and small the burnt rubber. Grimacing, I go into my trunk and extract the spare tire and car jack that I keep there. What I don't extract, for lack of owning one, is a tire iron. Can you tell I'm not a car guy?

So out comes AAA to save the day, and I really have to give that company credit. They were there in like 15 minutes, and the guy worked fast. Unfortunately, his jack wouldn't fit under my car because it had sunk a bit in mud, and the only solution he could think of was to drive the car a bit, even on the bum wheel. Eff that, says I, and I just lifted the back end of the car a bit for him. Cars weigh a few thousand pounds, but most of that's in the parts. The frame itself rarely weighs more than 500, and I was only lifting the corner. I got it up just enough for his jack to slip until the frame, thus saving me at least from further damaging my wheel. And now I had a valid excuse for being late.

So I had the next day off from work, and I spend part of it taking the car in to the shop. They charged me over $130 to buy and change the tire, but whatever. Took them longer to bring the tire out and change it than it took the AAA guy to arrive and do his whole thing, but again, whatever. I was able to knock out a tax class project while I waited.

A few other less significant things contributed to this being a generally bad week, but it's over now. I have no class next week, so I won't be dealing with work and school at the same time, and I get at least one of these days off. Starting the following Friday, I'll begin my reclusive finals prep week, and I won't be going back to work until the semester has been behind me for 24 hours. So right now I'm enjoying my last free weekend for a month, and taking it easy. I've got some personal long projects I've been meaning to start, I finally got to get down and dirty with some zombies in L4D2, I finished almost all of my Christmas shopping, and I got my back yard raked. I used to define "down-time" specifically as time that I spent relaxing and doing nothing productive. Now I define it as things that are productive for me instead of my employer.

I think this feeling means that I'm growing up, but it might just be gas.



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[UPDATE: coming soon, how Ben will attempt to both keep his job and graduate on time after all]

You Can't Hire Me, I Quit!

So as many have already heard, I was hired to a payroll bookkeeping position at HR Block last Thursday. As many are also aware, a few hours after accepting the position, I learned that I would have to be taking 4 classes during the upcoming semester. If I were to attempt to both graduate on time and do this job, I would only have five days and nine evenings per month in which to complete my coursework; I would be up at 7 AM, working until 5, then going straight to class until 10 PM. I would then be waking up about eight hours after I got home. I would get three evenings a week (Friday through Sunday) plus every other Saturday and three Sundays per month to study for exams or work on assignments. Frankly, that is not enough time to ensure passing grades in all my classes even if I was sure to be well rested and prepared.
Since I am unwilling to spend another seven months waiting to graduate, I did the only thing I could do. I explained to the nice people who had just given me a job during the worst economic downturn since the Great Depression that I would be unavailable starting in January. I feel sick acknowledging that. The job was only seasonal and would have ended in April anyway, but it still would have been great experience and a good resume builder.

So for the time being, I’m working through November, and we’ll figure out what’s next afterwards. Contrary to the above, I’m seriously contemplating extending my stay in Kansas City through the next Fall. Six more months of experience is a lot to pass up, especially in this economy. Well, that’s enough bitching about having to choose between having a Master’s degree or a job, seeing as both are opportunities that I would have killed for a year ago.

Halloween weekend was fantastic. We downed an entire handle of Everclear. I went to a very fine party in the loop, and saw a man in a Shriner costume. He had even built himself a car. Nobody got my Boondock Saints costume. Daylight Savings Time has never come on a better morning.

Evan’s house is fantastic. It’s spatious, it has guest bedrooms, and the view in his back yard is gorgeous. I predict it will be the site of many good times in the years to come.

Theo, next time I come we’ll celebrate your birthday proper. I will demand some Brutal Legend multiplayer out of you.

Dave, I hope to see you in January, if I make it out.

Fission Mailed

Another bit of weird and interesting news. I mentioned a while back about how Gamefly was working out really well for me, because it costs about as much as a new game every 3 months and lets me play 1-2 per month. Well, that only works when the games actually show up in the mail, which apparently wasn't the case for some two thousand games in Philadelphia.

A US Postal worker, by the name of Reginald Johnson, has apparently been swiping every Gamefly game he could get his nerdy little hands on. In total, authorities attribute the theft of 2,200 games to this man, for a grand total of about $86,000. This was over the course of just six months, and it's expected he may have been doing this for well over a year.

The best part is when these oh-so-elite federal agents finally noticed the one guy stealing tens of thousands of dollars worth of mail per month, they botched the arrest, and Mr. Johnson managed to slip past them and into his SUV. He immediately floored it, and crashed shortly after. He was then finally apprehended while trying to escape on foot.

I hope you all appreciate the irony of a man who probably stole at least a hundred copies of GTA 4 having relived one of it's most classic "fail" moments. I'll bet this man will spend the next year in jail waiting for the "Retry" option to pop up.

Why the Hell aren't I notified about these things!?

I want you to imagine that you walk out of your home one day, and suddenly notice that there is a grand stage set up across the street. Upon that stage, Jesus Christ and a small contingent of samurai warriors are doing battle with a horde of velociraptors. Holy shit, you ironically think to yourself, since when did something so awesome start happening right at my doorstep. However, as you watch the scene unfold, you realize that this and similar bouts of awesome have been taking place on a daily basis right in this very spot, and you've somehow managed to go all this time without noticing it.

This is how Brutal Legend made me feel about metal. Now I've never been an avid fan of any particular genre of music, and I still probably never will be, but somehow I've gone all this time without noticing how awesome some of these bands are. They've been around, I've heard their stuff on the radio and at parties, and Theo has probably ruptured my eardrums with some of it on more than one occasion, but somehow I just never noticed that I like this stuff.

Then again, when you're riding a magical, fire-breathing muscle car through a barren wasteland populated by things like Laser Panthers and Raptor Elks, it's a lot easier to listen to. The artwork in this game really does set it apart. It would be most easily described by saying that it looks like a Megadeth album cover. It would be more accurate to say that it looks like somebody gave Tim Schaeffer a bunch of acid, locked him in a room with nothing but a giant sound system and a bunch of Slayer, Omen, and Judas Priest albums, and then told him he had to make a video game before he was allowed to go to bed.

The game world isn't just filled with references to the various forms of metal, it is inspired almost entirely by it. Trees have exhaust pipes instead of branches. Mountains have been hewn into the shape of rock fingers and bass guitars. A giant, ancient highway runs throughout the land. It is filled with some of the most awesome animals ever conceived, like the Guillosaur (a combination of a dinosaur and a guillotine) and most of these beasts are ridable.

As if all this wasn't enough, Tim Schaeffer's writing shines just as brightly as it always has, all the more so for Jack Black's delivery in the game's starring role. The supporting cast includes all-star Jennifer Hale (Samus Aran of Metroid) as the love interest, Ozzy Osbourne as the Gaurdian of Metal, and Tim Curry as what can best be described as a slightly more loveable version of Sauron. A host of other faces from the music industry with varying levels of notoriety also make appearances in major and minor roles, as well. The game is always willing to poke fun at itself and its inspiration, but it still takes itself just seriously enough for the plot to be engaging.

Behind this absolutely fabulous facade of pure awesome, the gameplay itself is a mixed bag. It contains elements of a Starcraft-ish RTS, God of War-style hack n'slash, Halo-like vehicle romps, and Dynasty Warriors-ish war scenery. The game doesn't succeed spectacularly at all these things, but it does blend them together into something that can genuinely be described as original. In certain aspects, particularly when driving your car near rough terrain, the controls fall into the realm of mediocrity, but for the most they are intuitive and extremely simplistic.

The upshot of all this is that if the heavily stylistic presentation fails to appeal to you in any way, you're going to find this to be a mediocre title. If you are a fan of metal, or at least receptive to it, you're going to love the game's style too much to be bothered by a few shortcomings in its substance.

Coming up next: Mr. Smith gets a job!!

I was her MAN of Honor, Thank You

Recently Theo showed us all some love with a post dedicated to all of his friends. That, and some minor prodding, have motivated me to do likewise.

I'm going to divide mine up among three posts, however, dedicated to my three nearest and dearest friends. Kurt, Evan, Adam, Webb, and company have all been good friends, and I have had many very good times with them. Please do not take this as a slight in any way, but these were the three who have been there my entire adult life. They have been by my side, in one form or another, during my weakest moments. They have shared the best of times with me. I hold for myself no secrets to which this fellowship is not privy.

So here goes:

Walter, for the life of me, I cannot remember being introduced to you. To me, it feels like you were just always there. You were always inspiring me to get off my ass and experience things, usually things that I would otherwise have missed. You cared enough to get pissed at me when I wouldn't tag along just because I felt lazy, and that made my college experience considerably more memorable.

You have a strange knack for always having something appropriate (or delightfully inappropriate) to say for any situation. You have a sense of humor that could lighten the darkest moods, and make the good times even better. Best of all, even in your own darkest hours, you never stop using that humor to brighten everyone else's day.

You've always been one of the most selfless people I've ever known. I remember watching you teach Tae Kwon Do to the youngsters, and seeing a certain compassion that not many possess. You've always been willing to give what you could spare, and in many cases you've been more generous than that. I have no doubt that your kindness and passion will serve you well in your medical career.

I have a lot of memories of you that rank among my fondest. Those occasions on which I accompanied you to Jefferson City, the long nights spent jigging off key to Flogging Molly, all the crazy shit we did in Columbia, and the late nights cramming in the study of the SAE house.

And of course, most of the above memories also included you, Theo. I remember distinctly how we met, and I remember that after losing that bet, you could have easily told me to go to hell when I threw my laundry at you, but you honored the bet, and I am damn grateful that you did. You were the first friend I made after leaving Overland Park, and you remain the best and most steadfast.

I remember how we used to hang out in my room, playing Devil May Cry; or in yours, driving your roommate insane. I remember mounting the side of Rosie as we drove down the street. I recall with vivid horror that one time you convinced me to try and drive that behemoth.

As wonderful as it was to get away from my old haunts, those first few weeks of college were terrifying, and you were the first sign I was given that things were going to be OK. You always had just a little more stones than I did when it came to our nightly jump challenges, but you still managed to push me to my limit, which always made those outings far more worthwhile.

My life has been a far greater adventure with you in it, and I fully expect that this will continue the case.

Also, at this moment, I'm listening to Dethklok, which is an entire genre of music that I never would have been able to enjoy had I not known you.

Finally, there's one more person who it would be utterly criminal not to place on this list. She's not exactly a member of the Holy Trinity described above, but I'm also not willing to divide this list up amongst different posts, lest one or the other feel somehow slighted. So I'll just break this one up.
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To get some extra spending money, I worked an on-campus job at Westminster. I ended up working in the Mac Lab, because it was literally a do-nothing job where I could laze around or get some homework done. Most days, I only saw a couple of people, if any.

On one of those days, fairly early on in the semester, a girl came in sat down in front of a computer, and began talking to it in a language I didn't recognize. She was apparently practicing for a foreign language class (a requirement for graduation at Westminster) but I didn't know this, so I just saw some crazy chick talking gobbledygook at a computer. She suddenly saw the strange look I was giving her, and quickly stood up and tried to explain herself. She neglected to remove her headphones, however, and ended up catching the right speaker in her eye. It was very funny.

I was quite shy in those days, but after seeing somebody embarrass themselves like that, I was able to summon up the courage to say hi (major accomplishment for me at the time) and actually start a conversation. Unfortunately, I had yet to come out of my shell and so my attempts at communication quickly drifted to a video game reference, (see, it was actually kind of funny if you understood the context, because the locks in the lab had this really weird and contrived way of... oh nevermind) but somehow this did not chase her off. We talked for a bit, exchanged contact information, and quickly became friends.

It was that magical time of life where everybody's still trying to figure out who or what they are, and so anything can be tried once and almost always is forgiven. During those years, she was at different times a mentor, a companion, and on occasion, a lover. Somewhere along the line, the line between those three things grew hazy, and our relationship evolved into something best described as a very dear friend. We have shared in victory and in defeat. At certain times we have been sources of strength and compassion for one another, and at others we have been the bane of each others' existence. Through it all, however, she has remained the dearest of friends. She calls me on my bullshit, she listens to my problems, and she sees me in ways that I often can't even see myself. Her council and companionship are dear to me, even when they lead me astray.

I don't think it's ever been a secret that I am very much in love with Andrea Wimberly. It's not about physical intimacy (frankly, we never did work as a couple) so much as the fact that she just gets me. She can call me on my bullshit, and I can call her on hers. We can't really lie to each other (although each of us lets the other think they can on occasion) even about matters on which we lie to ourselves. She has a perspective and insight that has been indispensable to me on many occasions. I can almost always trust her, and I know her well enough to know when and why I can't.

And what's more, this chick is a badass. A drunken frat boy once locked her in a room with him, and tried to have his way with her; she ripped his arm out of its socket. I am not making this up. Our old boss at Little Caesar's regularly shorted her on the gas money she was promised for her deliveries. That man lost his franchise. Again, not making this up. I won't even go into the shenanigans that her very psychotic roommate tried to pull, but it involved me both Andrea and myself being accused of some very ridiculous (and utterly false) things in a court of law. We only had to give up an afternoon explaining the situation, and she got stuck with the court costs. Since then we've both more or less forgotten she ever existed (I actually had to think for a minute to remember her name) but she is apparently still ranting and blogging about how much she hates us. Dre just has a way of dealing with things, and I mean that in a Godfather kind of way. It makes her very useful to have around, but don't ever, ever get on her bad side, or fuck with any of her friends. Seriously.

And most importantly, when the chips are down, I trust this broad. They say a good friend will kill for you, but- and I say this in all seriousness- I would call Andrea if by some inconceivable circumstance I had killed somebody, and needed to dispose of the body. She would not ask questions and she would not bat an eye, she would just help.

About a year ago, I was asked to be at her side during the wedding. A few months later, that crappy Made of Honor movie came out, and I'm still waiting for my royalty check. After the wedding, she would be off to Turkey with Carl, and I still remember her coworkers begging me to talk her out of it, because they weren't sure the office would be able to function without her. If any of them are (for some reason I can't fathom) reading this, please know that I tried my absolute best.

I still talk to her regularly, and we see each other from time to time, but we'll probably never live in the same city again, and more's the pity. But we had some real good times, and I'm sure that we've got an adventure or two left in us.

So this wraps up my three major credits. I think that Evan and Kurt and several others are still worthy of mention, but these three are my Musketeers. These are the friends for whom I would gladly take a bullet. I would give a kidney to any one of these three. Dre, Walt, Theo: I love you guys.