We spent the last two weeks attempting to beat Super Mario Brothers 3. That's right. We paid cash money to purchase Wii points to purchase a game that was released in 1988. When we were two. Videogames have come quite far in the past twenty one years.
For one thing, even though we could play this game upside down and backwards in our sleep when we were youngins, we had the assistance of the Game Genie back then. I remember my mom used to write the codes out for my brother and I on giant posterboard in thick red magic marker, which she would hang on the wall beside the TV. This leads me to believe that I was playing this game before I could read, because otherwise I would have just read the book myself. It also leads me to believe that it is quite sad that I can remember stupid things like that but not my own cellphone number. But I digress.
Anyway, regardless of the fact that my thumbs still sort of knew my way around, I could not fly this time. I did not have infinite lives. I could not put in a code and start at world 8. I could not pass world 8.
Alas, it took us WEEKS. I would come home from work and sit down and play this horrible horrible mindsucking game. I would cuss at it and stomp my feet and get very angry.
And tonight we passed it.
And what did we do?
Started that thing right over again to beat again, that's what.
In other news, I have finally found my iPod. It was in my laundry hamper, and no, I do not know why. I had finally given up on looking for it, assuming I had left it somewhere and it had a new home. I was hoping the new owner was enjoying the eclectic mix of Counting Crows and Travis and Elton John and Radiohead and everything else that is awesome, that I was missing. I was cursing myself for not having any of that music backed up. And as soon as I started looking for that $200 piece of freaking plastic, I found it. Moral: Quit looking for things and they will appear in absolutely ridiculous places.
Stupider still was my attempt to clean off music from said iPod to replace it with new music. I couldn't delete the Spice Girls. It was like stabbing my youth in the back. I couldn't delete the Barenaked Ladies, either. I am still in mourning over Steve's leaving the band. Deleting any of his work would be impossible. I am more than happy to be reunited with my Counting Crows, as I was getting sick of listening to Films About Ghosts over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.
Also: my mother has been badgering me on Facebook to write a BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG every 2.43 seconds like some sort of small mechanical dog stuck on repeat, so if it seems like this entry is contrived or about nothing it is all her fault. :)
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Friday, March 6, 2009
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