Kill Screen Hero

My word did I love The King of Kong, a documentary about the pursuit of the highest score on Donkey Kong. There's a dude, Billy Mitchell. And he's a total dick. At the beginning of the film, he is the world-record holder of the highest score. When Steve Wiebe, a husband, father and complete sweetheart sets a new record, Billy manages to get the score invalidated. Because he is. A DICK.

What follows is an almost Biblical match-up between these two men. Except that Billy refuses to play Steve live. Instead, he punks out and sends a videotape of his reclamation of the record.

I absolutely love documentaries like this. Trekkies and Wordplay come to mind, and I'm sure there are more. None of these movies cover ground-breaking or controversial topics. The people in them aren't famous or ticy-actory types. They are "normal" men and women who spend their lives watching Star Trek or doing crossword puzzles or playing Donkey Kong.

The best part about Kong is the strange men who hang on the periphery of Billy and Steve's lives. Billy has several little minions who tread somewhere between the ridiculous and the sublime.

I recommend this movie to anyone who has a sense of humor and a love of obsessive devotion to the small things in life.

Another Moment of Sadness

For the second time in less than a month, my mom has lost a member of her family. My Aunt Drein was 43. Forty-three. Looking at that number it seems even more absurd that she is gone. She died peacefully in her sleep. And that is absolutely zero comfort to the people who loved her. She had just gotten engaged. She was singing in a band and doing really well. She had friends and confidantes and family who loved her. Sometimes this fucking life is just too ridiculous.

All Downhill

I'm 30!! Woo?

Getting Creaky

I've gone walking the past four mornings, and now my knee hurts. What kind of fucked-up, AARP, denture wearing bullshit is that. I don't mind getting older. I just don't want to feel older. This blows.

Don't Grab That!

I don't like to talk about my weight. It's a sensitive topic for many people, and I'm no exception. I try not to care. I try not to judge myself based on the size of my jeans. Or my ass. But since I moved out of my sister's apartment, I've gained over 30 pounds. I never thought I'd be in the situation of gaining that much weight in less than a year. Every morning when I wake up and look in the mirror, I feel just a little bit like a failure.

John Gray is a DoucheNozzle

I am not now nor have I ever been a fan of advice that likes to espouse the view that man are grunting, visually stimulated idiots who only think about beer and boobies, beer and boobies on an endless loop. I am no more enamoured of the flip side which states that all women are flighty, emotional creatures who use sex to get what they want....particularly shiny things like diamonds and a dude's nutsack.

Blerg

Boredom creates a kind of mania that is hard to control. Today at work I felt as though my brain was clicking so fast that eventually something in it would come loose. I hate feeling that overwhelmed by my surroundings and by the swirling dervishes in my head. I think I need to start drinking at work.