Those of you poor bastards who were crazy, stupid, or somehow amused enough to filter through the entirety of my last post were possibly aware that I was stating that rampant alcohol usage grants you really lame superpowers. Sure, they're lame as fuck, but they're still fucking superpowers. I too have superpowers. Possibly from rampant alcohol use or perhaps from subtle Illuminati tampering with my genetic code in order to utilize me decades down the line for the future takeover of society.
[I never asked for this. PS: haha, spoilers]
SPOILERS: I am a huge fucking nerd
What are my secret super powers you ask? An Iron Liver and the ability to reject reality and replace it with my own subjective version of life. Only the latter ability is one I have little to no control of.
[Kinda like this, but nowhere near as awesome]
But holy shit those dinosaurs are shooting each other with pew pew lasers, holy fuck that's awesome!
Origin Story: Iron Liver Man
It's a dark and stormy night.[Thunder sfx] Betrayal! [Anvil sfx] Action! [Stock footage] Sex! [Live action Demonstration? (Please?)]
One day when getting some routine tests after an unfortunate brush with some medication which resulted in hospital time (Implied understatements anyone?) my doctor discovered that my liver filtered the crap out of my system ridiculously fast. So fast that I probably didn't need a hospital trip worth several thousand dollars at all. I was amused. My wallet was pissed. My liver wanted booze and couldn't have it anyway to "play it safe" for a few weeks. Needless to say this made me as pissed off as my wallet. I started smoking more.
Holy fuck that was a lame origin story. Oh well. The break down is I can drink a whole fuckton without worrying about the long term ramifications. At least for now. No possible way this could have a negative effect on me in the future.
[Nope. No negative consequences whatsoever... What the fuck is Cirrhosis?]
If my coffin is this tacky I will come back from the dead and start biting people in the face
Origin Story: Subjective Reality Man
It was a sunny day in peaceful suburbia. Then... Action! [Stock Footage, whip sfx] Gun Fights! [Machinegun sfx] Drunken Sex! [ohmygodbeckylookatherbutt sfx]
One day, my heart rate was likely exceeding three times normal seeing as I was hopped up on half a pack of smokes and four energy drinks. Naturally, energy drinks make you have to piss like a fucking racehorse, so I did the abnormal thing and decided to head to the nearest bathroom instead of just signing my name in yellow on the nearest corner. Normally I like to expand my territory but I decided I might risk enraging the Germans if I did. (Wait, what?)
I was in my University's Commuter Lounge which should give away a few things about me:
1) I was a commuter for atleast part of my College Career
2) I have at least some College under my belt
3) I have a bladder
4) I have no problem with engaging in homicide to harvest spare replacement organs... erm... I mean...
The closest bathroom is located in the Gay/Lesbian/Bisexual support lounge which is directly above the Commuter Lounge. Unfortunately both of the bathrooms there were occupied, in what I hope was really hot gay sex. (Cuz I know I sure as hell didn't get laid that day, so someone better have been getting some.)
So instead of just whipping it out and taking a leak on the bathroom doors (Possibly because I wasn't drunk enough [READ: At all] at 3:00pm) like a well adjusted but mildly impatient human being would do, I walked about 50-70 yards across the building to a hallway which just happened to support two bathroom entrances. Now while a bottle of booze and a drunken dare may have resulted in me entering the wrong bathroom "by accident" and engaging in some water sports, I happened to have priorities --
[Logic Conflict Error: Implication that Sex and/or Booze is not a Prioritized Function]
Are those bullet casings? I think I'm in love
Okay so wait, what were we talking about? Booze, having to pee, water sports... oh! Right! So I walk down this hallway and make it to the door labeled "Men" which was right after the convenient water fountain.
(Brought to you by today's Sponsor: A Motel 6 bathtub full of ice that you will wake up in)
Sometimes when Drinking from water fountains near bathrooms I wonder if they share the same water as the toilets. Then the water starts to taste funny. Sort of like licking a 9volt battery.
[It tastes the same as some Vaginas]
Do you smell a conspiracy? Fish? Eh fuck it, I'm gonna go watch porn
We now return you to your irregularly scheduled,
debaucherous asshat blogging away on the internet.
Anyway, I reach what's almost the end of the hallway, when I see it. Can you guess what it is? You get four guesses. (Remember it's noteworthy enough that I'm putting it up on this blog in hopes of entertaining you)
If you guessed a $10.00 bill, then you've been drinking too much with me, or you've pooped in my bed. (Not cool, by the way)
If you guessed a bottle of Jack hidden behind the Radiator, you're reading my mind, but you're wrong.
If you guessed two hot lesbians making out in the end of the hallway, you've been reading my mind when I masturbate, but you're wrong.
If you guessed an AK-47 that fires 3and1/2inch magnum 12ga shotgun shells on full automatic, you've also been reading my mind when I masturbate, but you're still wrong.
If you guessed a display case, then ring-a-ding ding, you're right! Wait. What? Yeah, that's right this whole story has been leading up to a display case. Why? Because the moment I see this display case the following thought process occurs in my head:
1) If I duck down, I'll go into sneak mode
2) If I'm in sneak mode, then I can lock pick the case without being detected
3) If I can lockpick the case, which is probably only a novice skill level lock, then I can probably get enough experience to level up my lockpicking
4) I'll probably level up if I do this
How the fuck did I ever get laid the first time? I mean for shit's sake, I was sober. How the fuck do I STILL get laid?
When I am left alone in other people's places I start looking through their stuff. Yes, invasion of privacy etc, but I never have and never will steal anything. I'm just satiating my natural curiosity. Plus people have cool shit and generally like compliments so I tend to compliment them on something that I found legitimately cool. Social engineering at its second finest.
Recently I was waiting for my friend to take a shower while in his room. He's one of the managers at a local restaurant. As I'm looking over the stuff on his dresser the following thought process goes through my head:
1) Wooden Coins... (Local restaurant uses these as in house dollars to encourage people to return to the bar and spend more than the $3 they're worth) .. wait a minute, when did he visit Redding?
2) I could totally swipe that lighter right now... but I'd loose Karma
3) I literally got an image in my head of an aiming reticule and text by it in read that said "Lighter. Steal" in red, indicating that the item in question was owned by someone else.
But WAIT. There's more. I was in an awesome location called Champagne Bar.
[This is actually a picture of the location in question]
This line of text is not a joke. Or is it? LOL META HUMOR
The Decor strikes me as this retro, 30's/40's/50's feel. Much like say... Rapture meets the casinos in New Vegas. Now normally this isn't too nerdy of a reaction, especially to go "Oh hey, this feels like Rapture," since Bioshock as a whole was an excellent piece of fiction that will stay with an observant player for a long time. However, here is where my subjective reality gets reamed by murphy's law.
As I'm sitting at the bar trying to get a shot of Jack and a beer to chase it down with when someone taps me on the back. I assume it was one of my friends, but instead it was a moderately attractive brunette sitting on the bench behind me. She introduced herself and her friend, who was visiting from new york. There was a bunch of flirting, and she made it clear she had her own hotel room. Fuck yes. Then:
"Hey do you know where BarRoom is?"
"Yeah, it's right down the street next to Cadillac Ranch"
"Is it far?"
"Nope, not at all."
"Could you take us there?"
Wait. I fucking HATE escort quests.
About 5-10 min later we arrive outside BarRoom.
"You should come in and dance with us!"
[Choose your reward]
-Get drunk, dance and fuck the brunette, Leaving your friends stuck in Downtown Cleveland (Negative Karma)
-Return to your friends, and don't get laid. (Massive Karma boost)
Seeing as how I was my friend's ride I elected to go with the Karma boost as it would have -- I suddenly (like as I was typing my last sentence suddenly) just realized a solution that would have made sure my friends would have gotten home okay and I would have gotten laid.
Fuck. So until next time Planeteers, remember that if you only use 4 out of the 5 rings to summon Captain Planet, you'll get Cthulhu. And nobody wants Cthulhu.