Mother Nature must be feeling guilty for those of us in New England. Friday morning I awoke to an onslaught of the Slushy Shit. It was draped across my car, down my driveway, coating the streets. What had been proposed as four inches of snow had turned into two feet of nightmare whilst I slept. Perhaps feeling a smidgen bit cruel for this deceit, Ole Lady Nature has turned the last two days into full blown Spring. You know you’ve been double-fisted by the Winter when forty-degree days are a salve on your soul. A balm on the chapped balls that weather has wrought. I’ll take it, and mix it together with some Daylight Savings Time. Despite the bullshit that is yanking an hour of weekend slumber out from underneath our feet, the bonus sunlight at the end of the day is bueno. As someone who is known to eat chapped stick in single bites while screaming at passersby when my sadness overwhelms me, any extra rays are salvation. They burn away the delirium that the Darkness brings.

Enough about me. How the fuck are you gals, guys, and every other combination? This is Monday Morning Commute, the column where you and I share the various happy happenings in our lives on a given week. The ointments that help soothe the irritation of the grind.

Let’s do this.

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What’s good in the hood, folks? Been a hell of week! Hell of a fucking week. I suffered a butt-drubbing last week at the hands of a son a bitch in a FedEx truck. The little Japanese Car that Could, which had shuttled me to work and back for many a year, Now Simply Can’t. Smash-pow! Don’t ever stop for pedestrians. That is the lesson learned. Crazy Taxi those motherfuckers. Grand Theft Auto right through their right of way. No, I’m just kidding. Don’t do that. Unless you’re fleeing from laser-cocked zombies, who want to nourish their hunger on your balls. Or labia. Laballs. Where was I? I blame the concussion. Oh yeah! This is Monday Morning Commute. The column where we share the various arts, farts, sexual proclivities (still waiting for someone to break that ice), and other general things you’re enjoying on a given week.

Let’s party, gals and guys.

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Tomb Raider  is getting rebooted, and its makers are culling from burning pots of cultural gravitas. There ain’t much better a way of making Ms. Croft relevant again than by taking everything Uncharted  and smashing it as hard as you can into Hunger Games. Over and over and over again, until you have some misshaped though potentially entertaining monster.

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Tomb Raider’s debut trailer has been released, and it’s friggin’ gorgeous. I’m a skeptic of this franchise at this point, and I have a healthy suspicion I’ll end up enjoying this trailer more than the game itself. If I even end up buying it.

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Behold the new look of Lara Croft. Crystal Dynamics is rebooting the franchise, and are totally swearing to tell the origin story of Ms. Croft. Isn’t this like her third reboot at this point? I can’t keep track. The head of Crystal Dynamics, Darrell Gallagher, trots out some of the more derivative statements you’ll find across video games and comic books to hype up this new origin!

Forget everything you knew about TOMB RAIDER. This is an origins story that creates Lara Croft and takes her on a character defining journey like no other.

Yeah, okay. I’ve heard that line a million times out of DC and Marvel alone. This is across mediums, but it’s the same hyperbole. Maybe it isn’t a reboot, but they’re appear to be starting afresh.

On the look? I like it. I’m sure she’ll still be super sexualized to an extent. But it’s nice to see her with a face that’s a bit harder (but pretty! of course! Heroines have to be pretty.) and suffering some battle damage.

Thoughts?

Via.