Dawn breaking, mountains of zombies slain!

Hello today!  I welcome you with open arms because I realized this morning that I survived the Twilight craze.  This must be what it feels like to see the dawn breaking over a mountain of newly slain zombies, knowing that I've survived yet another night of the Zombie Apocalypse terror.  Shouldn't there be some sort of triumphant sounding orchestral number playing?  All I can hear is the pounding of my heart.  It's over.  It's all over, and I survived.  *sob*

Now, how to survive a revival of 80's style?

Seriously.  Where the hell are the fashion police when a newscaster in 2011 is wearing NFL sanctioned shoulder pads as dress shoulder pads?  You've got to wonder whether Angelina Jolie had permission to borrow that gown for the Golden Globes from Joan Collins.  Why, oh why, do we need to bring back a fashion sense that dictates, "it's ok for your thighs to be freezing because of your french cut leotard, but your calves mustn't be exposed!"

The only part of my body that doesn't reject a resurgence of 80's style is my hair.  It thinks it now has carte blanche for frizz, and is wondering why I'm not at the ready with a can of AquaNet.  My feet, however, dread the thought of white LA Gear high-tops, my thighs jiggle nervously at the suggestion of spandex and my waist laughs audibly (more a *gurgle* than a *giggle*) at the idea of cinch-it-belt-it.  My ears go on strike at the grocery store when some smooth voiced young person is crooning what should be a gravel voiced Cyndi Lauper song broadcasts over the "in-store radio."  Like, gag me with a spoon!

Of course, there was a lot to love about the 80's.  People weren't expected to hate their very existence owing to their contribution to pollution, global warming, etc.  We were allowed to be conspicuous consumers provided we had a "Save the Whales" t-shirt in our closet.  At the ripe age of 10 I recall saying to my mother, "c'mon, mom, it's the 80's!"  It didn't matter what the cause, the answer was the decade.

Still, I hope to be able to greet a day in the not distant future in a similar manner as today:  Hello tomorrow, I anticipate you with open arms.  You brought an end to the resurgence of 80's fashion, and I survived to see you dawn!  Provided you're not bringing a renewal of 90's fashion, that is...I don't think the fashion world could survive Hammer Pants.

And now for the nerdy bit...

Well, one of the nerdy bits.  I'm thoroughly nerdy, and a bit OCD (see below) about it to boot.  I love video games.  My husband got me hooked on gaming when we were just starting to get hooked on one another.  Oh sure, at the beginning my interest was more in impressing him, and showing that I could love what he loved.  But as Igor says in Terry Pratchett's Making Money, "if you don't want the monthter you don't pull the lever."  The lever got pulled, and a monthter was created, game by bloody game.  

I know my monster is alive and well because today I caught myself thinking, "he's dead sexy, for a raccoon."  o_0  Mmmmmm-kaaaaaaaaaaaay...

I'm speaking of course about Sly Cooper.  For those of you who managed to avoid this just-as-addictive-and-way-more-expensive-than-crack habit, Sly is a dead sexy raccoon.  I should know, I've played all three of his games and have worn a oval into the floor pacing in antici...................pation of "Sly4".  I'm just as excited for the next "Okami" (a PS2 turned Wii masterpiece that I doubt more than a dozen people played worldwide,) called "Okamiden".  In these games, and countless other games, thoroughness is key to success.  In the Wii game, "World of Goo", OCD changes from the psychological malady to mean "Obsessive Completion Disorder", and man do I got it bad.  If it's something to complete, find or collect in a game, I will do it, and not regret the time it took.  In fact, what is an extra hour of gaming compared to the pride of finding every single clue bottle on every single level?  Mwa-ha.  Mwa-ha-ha-ha!  HA-HA-HA!!!

*Ahem*  You see it's not just about collecting everything within the game, but in every variation, adaptation and manipulation of the game franchise itself.  I not only have all three "Sly Cooper" games on PS2, I went out and bought the collection for the PS3 (it's in HD, y'all!)  I have "Okami", and the 6 disc soundtrack purchase from Japan, and a preorder of "Okamiden".  All the Professor Layton titles have made it into my collection, all the "Mario & Luigi" action RPG titles (yes, even the first hair pulling GBA version,) and all the "Paper Mario" titles (yes, even the N64 title)...and the list goes on.  OCD isn't just about having fun with time wasting, eyeball rotting games, it's about being able to go into game stores and hold one's own with the paid-to-be-nerds within.  It's about barely civil debates with the clerk at the game store who is staring down his nose that the plebeian not buying the right game.  It's that sneer of pride when he says, "ok, I see your point, Lego Batman was the best Lego title."  Take that basement dweller!

Like I said, dead sexy raccoon.

Fountain of Youth

Though my treks through the Florida Everglades has never conclusively confirmed it, I'm certain that the Fountain of Youth is actually a naturally occurring coffee spring.  Artesian coffee, if you will.  It's absurd to think that it might be just plain old water.  Water, by itself may be refreshing.  Necessary even, but not rejuvenating.  Have you ever heard anyone say, "it's 3:30 and I sure could go for some water."  No body says, "I'm making a run to Starbucks, anyone want me to bring back a Venti Water?"  Have you ever asked for a glass of water to go with your favorite dessert?!?  No.

So if you're ever the lucky soul who confirms my hypothesis by stumbling upon the Fountain of Youth, please make mine a Trenta.