Rookie of the Year: Incomplete and Unabashedly Undiscerning Found Footage Horror Movie Guide
The following is the latest in a series of journal entries chronicling the author’s descent into next-gen gaming degeneracy and assorted geekery – from getting his first television in years to trying to figure out why the @$@$&@@ you need two goddamn directional pads just to walk down an effing hallway.
Gaming While the Baby isn’t Looking
Last week, the Los Angeles Times informed me that I am weird. This, I already knew, but it is nice to see the confirmation in print. It turns out that only 1% of married couples with children of a certain age include a stay-at-home dad. Since this March (more or less), I have been one of that particular one percent. I wrote a little bit about what it’s like to be my particular flavor of new parent before. It involved much moaning and wailing about finding time to play videogames. I can report that a couple of months on, things
My Party (Kit), My Rules
Rules are meant to be read, not followed – or so the mentality goes. That’s where I invariably step in. Silent limitations are given a voice. Chaos is contained. Rebellion is met with a metal cage. Passes at “imagination” to save one’s skin are denied. And decisions only have finality after being scanned for correctness, like a manic security drone equipped to stun threats without hesitation.
