Monday Morning Commute: Vikings Stabbing Smoke Monsters While Bayonetta Climaxes
Oh shit! I think I say “Oh shit!” so much that it has lost any impact on the reader. Sort of like all the other vulgarity I trot out these days. Sigh, I’m so derivative. Really, a pale-imitation of whatever true Ian hangs out in the Realm of Ideas with Socrates and Plato. Whatever, whatever! Tomorrow is my fucking birthday! And that means a few things. Firstly, I’m old as fuck. When I told The Girl Confused Enough to Date Me that I was weirded out at turning 27 back during the summer, she couldn’t contain her smile. She was laughing at my old, wrinkly balls. Yeah well, you’re stuck with them!
But more importantly, Bayonetta comes out tomorrow. I’m ready to climax! I’ve been plugging this thing forever. I was talking to Pepsibones, and I told him I had absolutely no idea what product I was going to champion to get fanboy and fangirl perverts from all over the internet to come to this watering hole. I’ll figure it out.
Monday Morning Commute. Every Monday I’m going to detail the various things I’m either currently or will be watching, reading, playing, and listening to in the next seven days. It’s Monday. You’ve got a long week of school, work, or compulsive masturbation to get through. Tell me the arts that you’re indulging in, to stave off suicide.
Playing / Bayonetta, Xbox 360
Can you feel it, the expectancy? Of our deepest desires? Tomorrow baby, Bayonetta and I are hooking up. I’m going to take off all her wrappings, and slide her gently in. That’s right, I’m taking her! I’m going to take all she can give me, and aching with domination, ask for more. Ah, what a god damn birthday present. Kamiya is unleashing his uber-sexualized ferocity upon the undeserving masses tomorrow! My lights will be off, but I assure you the groans are not coming from me! They’re uh, coming from the surround speakers. CALLED MY MOUTH LOL. Yeah, that doesn’t make sense.
I’m plagued by sadness at the piling up unplayed titles sitting on top of consoles and strewn throughout my dungeon. I just started and loved Assassin’s Creed II, the latest Ratchet and Clank is unfinished, and I’ve barely touched Borderlands. But it’s fucking Bayonetta. I’ll get them someday. You know, after Bayonetta, and then fuck, Bioshock 2, and Mass Effect 2, and Final Fantasy XIII.
Watching / LOST
You may have realized that I’m going completely insane over the forthcoming, and final season, of LOST. And when I realized that I hadn’t watched some of the seasons in six fucking years, I came to the conclusion that I needed to brush up on some LOST lore. With the power of digital video disc and streaming Netflix instant queues, I’m going to run through the series in a completely non-linear, hypertexual manner. Leap frogging from episode to episode and season to season without a god damn care in the world. It almost seems appropriate, doesn’t it? For a show that has cut many a tooth on breaking conventional story telling mediums and capturing the medium through which we operate within society now. Hopping from website to unrelated website, curving back to prior ones. Non-linearity is linearity. Or something. I’m drunk.
Listening / Amon Amarth, Fate of Norns
I remember seeing Amon Amarth at a Children of Bodom show a couple of years ago. I was completely rocked off of Red Bull and Vodka, and all I really remember is seeing an enormous dude who looked like Thor holding a viking horn. It seemed pretty bad ass, but the music and entire thing just seemed absurd.
I have no idea how I got onto the topic of Amon Amarth last night with my friend Brian, but he suggested I check them out. Then I called him an asshole, and he looked hurt. He continued insisting, and then I think I probably called him an asshole again. But somehow he won out, because he claimed he knew what sort of music I liked, and it was similar to his. It’s true – Brian knows me well. I’m pretty sure he’s seen my cock at some point, and he’s definitely been spooned by me during a trip to New York City last night. I was asleep when I curled up next to him, and don’t remember it, but I know he secretly enjoyed it. I’m a lover, what can I say.
So I took the album home, and I haven’t felt this guilty about liking something since I found myself giggling at Glee. Whatever. With songs like “The Pursuit of Vikings”, I’m inclined to appreciate Amon Amarth on at the very least, a hypothetical level. There are viking horns, enormous beards, and mead. Tons of mead.
What are you fuckstains up to?
