Is it hot in here, or is it just SSX Tricky?

A basic tricky move

When revenue flat lines, like my post views, one must innovate. You don't focus on what once worked; you change the playing field! More importantly, you attempt to figure out what will drive your female readers wild. As always, I'm fairly certain I found the answer....a video game review.

I'm aware, SSX Tricky is a throwback game to evaluate. However, you must realize back in the early 2000s we didn't have the same video game reviewing technology and ways of thinking as we do now (i.e. elaborate prostate exams and the ability to TiVo "Wizards of Waverly Place"). Likewise, I have a feeling some of the younger crowd requires a little refreshing on the background of SSX Tricky.

SSX Tricky is a snowboarding video game released in November of 2001 by EA Sports as the sequel to SSX. Rumors that the game's initial name was "Tricky Sex," but switched to "SSX Tricky" due to a drunk, dyslexic copyeditor are true. The game's overall theme, plot and switch from a low budget porno to a video game had to be completely reworked. The game originally was playable on PlayStation 2, Xbox and GameCube. For my purposes, I tested the game out on PS2. Somehow, this game is still $30.00 on Amazon. Here's what I found out...

Pretty good for eating eggs off of

With a new apartment and lack of essentials with the correlating move, we are often very low on plates. I found SSX Tricky's plate-like shape served fairly well. The game's platform could only hold three omelets but was easy to clean post hash browns.

Just so-so for applying sunscreen

I live pretty close to a beach and make frequent visits. With that being said, sunscreen is a must, because UV Rays mean sunscreen AND plenty of women who need sunscreen to be applied. I found SSX Tricky kind of works for lathering on sun protective lotion. Furthermore, the game works about as well as rubbing it on with a your cell phone. I recommend asking women for approval before applying sunscreen to their backs with an old video game as you're about to go through with what's thought to be a "romantic" move that's ultimately "embarrassing and illegal."

Too tricky for SSX Tricky

Terrible for cleaning your fingernails

Since fingernail clippers have have been made obsolete by the iPhone, and I don't have an iPhone -- you have to get creative. SSX Tricky's disc design with the shiny bottom resembles the outter appearance of a fingernail clipper but with much worse services. The game has zero corners or edges to clean out the inside of a pumpkin from under your nails. Oh, and I know what you are thinking...yes, the game case has corners...however, I lost the game case at the beach -- so this feature wasn't available.

Sadly, I was only able to try out the game through these three tests, because by the time I put the disc into my PS2 the game was covered in pumpkin-screen-egg matter. The disc ruined my PS2, which was just a VCR, which was hooked up to my microwave but somehow charged my iPod.

Overall, I give SSX Tricky a B-.

How much I hate Skip Bayless

I don't understand Skip Bayless and his vendetta against Aaron Rodgers and the Packers. Way too bias for my taste. He really takes the enjoyment out of watching ESPN nowadays, especially with the NFL season right around the corner. I dislike him SO MUCH.

Not this much,

or this much,

but 'dis MUCH!

The Growing Acceptance in Lack of Pride in Work and Life

Outside of my humor and puppet focused posts, I've wrote on life goals and professional careers. I've recently felt compelled to return to the topic as I've become increasingly troubled by the answers I receive when I ask post-college graduates what their future plans or current goals are. Their answers are a too often and troubling, "Not sure," or an unmotivated, "I don't know."

I understand, TRUST ME, I UNDERSTAND, leaving college or even having decided an ultimate goal a few years down the road may be problematic -- especially with the current job market. The economy validates the uncertainty in the answer to some extent. My issue isn't the unknown, clueless answer; the growing trend of acceptance to the lack of motivation and pride is what bothers me.

I had a conversation with a friend recently and asked them where they wanted to climactically be in their career as an achievement of true success. The individual said they had attended grad school, received their Master's, found a very good job and are looking to return to school for a Ph.D. within two years. I instantly explained to my friend my extreme adoration for their success and aspirations. I went on to explain how commonplace it's become for a person to answer the same question with a simple, "Whatever." A "whatever" aimlessly preserved in airless atmosphere, which the entire world is supposed to see as irreproachable. You aren't to question that they are unsure, not to make any recommendations, not to help, but rather applaud and encourage the lack of pride, because there really is no pride.

Clint and Ron Howard

One way people go about making up for their lack of success is gluing themselves to the coattails of those they have relationships with, both intimate and as friends or family. I see such an innate problem with clinging onto someone else's achievements in order to give off the impression you're doing well by association. Isn't this growing standard concerning for everyone else? 

You should be able to look yourself in the mirror with your chin up and say, "Look at what I've done." Instead, people avoid the mirror and throw a towel over it. They live off the sensual feeling and grossly existing pride and satisfaction in what the person their married to has accomplished or what the people they've slept with have done.

It's sickening; it's disturbing; it makes you wonder, "When are these people going to wake up? Will they go on the rest of their lives gloating and proudly pissing in a pond of gold filled by another's accomplishments?"

Of course, discussing your goals or successes is uneasy and awkward, but at some point you need to be able to remove the towel you tossed over the mirror. Whether your goal is to just get a decent job or raise a great family, you have to draft some blue prints! Did your family not raise you to succeed? If they didn't, don't you see others who are driven and have some small desire to be like them?

"Stop being a fucking dinosaur and get a job".

What holds people back from questioning their friend's or family member's lack of path and ambition is the fear we will "hurt their feelings." We think questioning someone's lack of motivation as "mean" and "not polite" -- and to some extent it is. But I rather have a repeated kick in the balls to send some reality to my brain than have a rotting virus in my head make excuses for my lack of self-sufficiency.

My advice to those who are unsure on their life goals is to at least have something in line (even if it's short term). Without goals you have no backbone, and the lack of supportive structure has become terrifyingly "okay" with everyone. I understand too, it's whatever makes you happy. However, living your life with little self-accomplishment and fueling your own sense of pride with other's successes is inherently sickening.

A Supplementary Series of Play and Musical Ideas

I'm going to write a play about a struggling Russian entertainer, Borya Gutemovskii, who performs Trans-Siberian puppet shows at a local Pizza Ranch in Salt Lake City. He lives in the shadow of Clem Penny, regional famous puppeteer who brings to life Mad Men inspired shows. Gutemovskii's life soon changes when he schemes to bring down Clem Penny by becoming a Mad Men puppet himself and sabotage Penny's show after meeting a magical, Boston witch at Hobby Lobby. Gutemovskii instantly falls in love with the Trudy Campbell puppet, realizes she can't be brought to life and stalks the real life Trudy Campbell (Alison Brie) for all of Act II. He has trouble traveling because he is a puppet.

Lindsey Buckingham

I'm going to write a play about a female airline pilot who has lived in the cockpit of an Airbus A300 commercial aircraft since her childhood, never leaving after her parents died in a freak, pacemaker malfunction at 4,000 ft. One day, while descending into Detroit, the woman pilot writes the song "Landslide," which is overheard by Lindsey Buckingham in 1st class. The two form the band Fleetwood Mac, living on the plane and surviving off of Sutter Home Wine samples and infant size bags of pretzels for the rest of their lives. The couple conceives and gives birth to all the members of the band Jefferson Airplane, who later become Jefferson Starship and eventually My Chemical Romance, respectively.

Captain Troy Tempest

I'm going to write and compose a musical about the puppets used by the Von Trapp children for the marionette show from "The Sound of Music." The plot follows the puppet's rise to fame in "The Lonely Goatherd" performance to their fall as back-up puppets for the 1960's children marionette puppet television series, Stingray. Several of the Von Trapp puppets, especially the small band's tuba player, have affairs with Captain Troy Tempest (main character from Stingray), producing the following puppet children:

Pepe the King Prawn / Steve Buscemi

Gorg / Bruce Vilanch

Dr. Bunsen / Al Roker

Moving to Chicago: A Hipster's Tale

I recently made a move to Chicago for hopes the proximity switch would create a larger window of opportunity. I could carve paragraph after paragraph about the Chicago job market into the hard wood floor under the throw rug in the living room of the apartment I'm staying in with a spoon; but I'll save that for Friday.

Chicago has been remarkable so far. The endless, niche options of bars, restaurants and dental offices speaks wonders of the complexity of a big city. I've already withheld my true professional sport team preferences and saw a Cubs game at historic Wrigley Field; I've seen bits and pieces of the night life and ice cream salesmen on the beaches; and I've noticed there are not enough places to get coffee.  

One of the most confusing and intriguing observations I've came across is the similarity of appearance between the female population around my age. All the girls I know from Chicago look like every girl in Chicago. This "Chicago look" includes big sunglasses, free flowing clothes, longer hair tagged with a bit of new wave/ indie upper-class sophistication. Every day I think I see someone I know from college, and it's just another random Chicago girl mixed amongst the increasing number of hipsters escaping their home in Wicker Park. Seriously, the superior status of hipsters in Chicago and bohemian urge makes me feel like I'm living in 1960s Greenwich Village -- but that's a whole different blog I'll carve into the wooden cabinets while everyone else here is sleeping before I move into my own place.

In my free time I've told a few friends about my move down here or have been approached by others about it (apparently word travels fast when you look exactly like a male Keira Knightley). I'm obviously fairly naive about getting around the city and am fortunate to be staying with friends who know the area very well. Likewise, I'm fascinated by how many of my friends who I thought were from the real city of Chicago are actually from the suburbs and have equal or less knowledge on how to get around the actual city or where specific locations are.

One of my favorite traits of the city is the convenient utilization of public transit and walking. Whether we're riding the "L" or walking around, I'm a huge fan of not using a car and saving money. Many jobs will pay for your commuter costs as well -- making these rides all the better. In addition to the public transit's financial advantages, every trip has a tank full of hilarity and awkwardness. The train rides are often packed to the brim full of business professionals, overweight travelers and whatever blew in from the circus. My personal favorite are the individuals refusing to grab onto the railings while the trains is moving when no seats are available -- as if they are too good for them -- which results in the person constantly almost tipping over.

Big cities have boundless features to love or hate -- and this Keira is hitting the "love" button a lot on his dashboard of discovery. Chicago is an exciting place to be, full of opportunity, enjoyment and terrifying mannequins at H&M.

Cash Rules Everything Around Me

As the four people who still read this blog are aware, I'm the poster boy for finishing college and finding zero success in the real world. Whether I'm conversing with acquaintances or colleagues, they often ask what I'm up to, I explain and at some point they rattle off, "See, that's not bad. Money isn't everything." To some extent they are correct. Money isn't everything, but money makes everything astonishingly easier.

I come from a phenomenal family, who has provided me with everything I have ever needed, while still teaching me the value of money how to work for it. However, we were never financially well-off. I've worked since I was in 5th grade, and even now I still go paycheck to paycheck. When I tell friends I can't do something, because I don't have money they will say, "Yeah, man, I'm running low too." I'll have to respond with a blunt, "No, seriously, I literally only have $10.00 in my account."

When someone says, "money isn't everything," I'll put my last $10 down betting this person has never lived with much financial difficulty. Money isn't everything when you have a spouse who pays the bills -- allowing you to pick a low capital accumulating career. Money isn't everything when your wealthy parents have continually and comfortably provided you anything you've ever wanted. Money isn't everything when you are so financially secure, shopping or spending decent hunks of cash at the bars isn't bothersome.

Sadly, for many people, money is everything - not in the sense it is an obsession but rather a necessity. Money is what holds you over while you take your career in a different direction. Money allows you to comfortable pursue your dreams. Money can take worries of paying bills on time, feeding your family and counting your hours up every week to make sure you get buy and kick them in the teeth. Money creates a sense of composure and relaxation, allowing you to accomplish the things you want to do.

If money isn't everything, then I wouldn't be here right now. If I had the money, I would have moved to Los Angeles or New York on a limb one year ago and attempted to make it as an actor. I would never have written half of these blogs; I wouldn't have to use 3/4 of my savings to fix my car; I wouldn't have to work three jobs making a maximum of $300/week. The lack of money holds people back. The lack of money keeps good families from moving out of bad areas, yields plans of retirement and stops individuals from accomplishing life goals.

This is not saying some people don't live on bare minimum and are still happy. Every person holds different ambitions, and for some the simplicity is what they need to be happy. In fact, sometimes the lack of opportunity is what you need to have the audacity to take a leap of faith. When opportunity is at a halt, perhaps the correct move forward is a jeopardous but bold decision covered in uncertainty. The idea of making yourself completely vulnerable is obviously terrifying but can have it's pay offs. I was conversing with a friend about the same subject recently, who said, "The universe has a way of balancing things out, and when you have that much working against you, there should be a lot coming your way." Wise and hopeful -- a lot of good can come from a weak start. Still, substantial capital and responsible use of it can create better things quicker and with lower stress.

I'm outrageously envious of friends and others who have the capabilities to never have to legitimentally worry about money. I only hope the individuals lucky enough to be in those positions take advantage of their privileges to accomplish great things. However, many don't and never have a true understanding of the value of a dollar, and later tell those less off then them, "Hey, money isn't everything."

Sea Turtle Job Applications

My job hunt for a full-time career carries on, and through the painful journey I've come across some very interesting application processes.

Recently, I applied for a position with a unique company. Although the position, place of work and environment were very legitimate, the application process was outrageous (in a good way).

After I filled out the application basics, I was asked to write two essays (common when applying for writing based jobs). However, this was unusual. Feeling adventurous at 11:45 p.m., I wanted to crank these out. Little did I know, I was thrown a curve ball. Essay one instructed, "From the perspective of the turtle, write a 1st person description of a turtle's greatest accomplishment (150 - 300 words)."

Yes.

I read this over a few times and even consulted with friends. I was baffled but intrigued. I decided I could wait on this one.

I scrolled down the page to the second essay...Click the image below and be awakened...


I was even more puzzled as I read yet another turtle question that only could be composed after the first essay was finished. Let me remind you, this job had no animal involvement, required no turtle accolades and had zero additional odd aspects. I was fairly certain some recruiters were totally fucking with me.

I actually waited about one day before I began to tackle the essays. Once finished, I was dying share my results with everyone. Funny enough, I landed an interview but didn't get the job (what a shocker). However, it wasn't because of my turtle essays. In fact, they told me they all "loved" my turtle accomplishment story, which I want to share with you. The following was my response to the first writing prompt:

"From the perspective of the turtle, write a 1st person description of a turtle's greatest accomplishment (150 - 300 words).

Last week, I hauled myself onto a Costa Rica beach shore in the middle of the night. As my body breached the water, the moon danced with each of my weighed steps while my reptilian soul combed the beach for adequate sand to displace my young. I discovered suitable nesting sand all around me; however, my friend Amanda told me the best sand was 100 feet to the right of the old sunstone. I methoically worked my way over to the Amanda-approved sand and began my mental preparation. Once in position, I utilized my hind flippers to dig a hole. I dug with a feverish frenzy in supple but efficient swipes until I was plenty deep. I then filled the hole with roughly 100 of my eggs. Each egg was special to me, but there were too many to conjure up individual names. I called most of them "Jeffrey." Regardless, after filling the nest back up with sand, I smoothed the surface to nature's content. My body was sluggish and gritty from the hour endeavor. I then nonchalantly returned to the sea, leaving my eggs untended, although many of my hatchlings won't live until adulthood."

Boom. Under 200 words. Hot off the press. Warm to the touch. Pretty much the next "Hunger Games." Yet, apparently I didn't enjoy turtles crawling all over me enough to be offered the position (that actually wasn't ever mentioned). Regardless, I did at least, until the impersonal denial of the job, have a decent time with this one.