iPwned...

Man, that Apple. Steve Jobs must be a sadist. I really cannot fathom any other reasoning for why the iPhone 3G rollout has taken place the way it has. Perhaps AT&T had a hand in the matter as well (perhaps even playing a larger role in the final decisions), luckily they don't have the luxury of a well known figurehead for me to vilify.

I've always been enamored with the iPhone's aestetics and OS. It's just a well put together piece of machinery. The only thing keeping me from its first iteration was its premium pricing and subpar carrier. This new edition has the price aspect covered, unfortunately I'm smack in the middle of a verizon contract. The gf, on the other hand, is essentially a free agent; and so the adventure begins...

Armed with the knowledge that even with last years hype, lines essentially disappeared within hours on launch day, we ventured forth on Sunday afternoon (two days after the 3G launch). What we were greeted with was not comforting: lines snaking as far as the eye can see (provided the day is quite foggy). There are 3 Apple stores in NYC (we had already figured AT&T stores were a waste of time), the first of which we were turned away from because they had closed down the line to make sure they could accommodate everyone. And this was at like 5pm. The place closed at midnight; thats how ridiculous it was. We were told it'd be a better idea to go to the midtown - flagship - store, since it was open 24 hours. Upon arriving there we saw a line about twice as long as the other one, and this line was shut down for the day as well. How they can shut down a line at a 24 store is beyond me, and I vocalized this feeling, but was turned away in the end.

Now I'm well aware that the douchebaggery quotient, per capita, in NYC is absurdly high, but this just seemed a little excessive. I had to do some theoretical math at this point:

Apple said they sold something like 1 million units, worldwide, in the first 24 hours. NYC has over 8 million people, at least 2 million of whom are douchebags. 3 Apple stores, roughly 25 employees dedicated to iPhone activation per store, roughly 15 minutes per activation.

That's only about 300 people per hour for the entire city - about 4500-5000 per day. Now how exactly is this method supposed to accommodate such a high concentration of tools? You'd be a fool to assume they wouldn't all demand the newest, latest immediately after it becomes available (this does not apply to me nor my associates since I have accurate appraisals of our buffoonery readings on file). And this mandatory in-store activation just threw a gorilla sized monkey wrench in the mix. Boo.

In any case, she decided to wait until the middle of the week, hoping the lines would be more approachable in that environment. Alas, they were not. We were again told that the line had been shut down (this time at about 5pm). Upon further questioning I was told that the line was currently about 3 hours long and they cutting off sales at 1130. Since it was like 5 o'clock, this didn't really add up. We figured they were just bs'ing to stop the influx of people getting off of work, so we decided to get some drinks and come back later on. 4 hours later we get back and the line has like 5 people on it, yet it's still closed. After respectfully arguing with the "bouncer" of the line, we decided to just go into the store and try to ninja ourselves into the iPhone section. That didn't work either (we even saw people attempting the same thing get booted). In defeat we left the store, and saw the line had miraculously opened up again (what a surprise). There were already like 15 people on the line but we got on anyways. An hour later she had her hands on a unit and I had a headache. This whole miserable process took about 7 months off my life through stress alone, yet I maintain a level of serene calm right now...

Kobayashi...

Now, I've always been a fairly competitive person. I have a fairly high confidence level when it comes to trials of either a physical or intellectual nature, especially if these contests are 1-on-1. I'm seldom quiet about these views leading up to the heat of battle. For the most part I can back up these boasts, either with actual skill or through cunning misdirection, creating the illusion of actual skill.

With this personality type, I watch the Nathans Hot Dog eating championship annually. Even though I maintain a fairly high level of awe (tweaked with a slightly lower value of envy), I still tell myself year in and year out that I can hang with these guys (and gals).

Flash forward to July 4, 2008. It's decided amongst a group of friends that we will hold our own Hot Dog eating contest (heavily instigated by yours truly, of course). We buy a bunch of hot dogs and then proceed to barbecue, play poker, and get hammered. At about 8pm we realize that we haven't actually had the contest yet. At this point everyone has had several plates already, as well as quite a few drinks; but the show must go on.

Rather than waste dogs, we decided to have a race to 5, as opposed to a time limited free for all. All the guys present participated, even one against his will. We tried to get some of the women to, but they all declined. In a decidedly sexist act of bravado I personally challenged all of the women to compete against me; my score versus all of theirs combined. They ignored me.

As showtime inched closer I chuckled to myself as I watched my competitors slather toppings onto their wieners. They were just making it harder on themselves. They, too, ignored my suggestions. I was fine with that, though. Then the moment of truth arrived...

The starting pistol sounded. I immediately grabbed 2 dogs out of their buns and forced them into my waiting maw, imitating my idol: the Kobayashi. Meanwhile, my opponents were chowing down on dog-bun combinations. Fools, the lot of 'em. As I pushed the last portion of the second dog in my mouth and dunked the first bun into my cup of water I stole a glance across the table. To my surprise someone, lets call him the Abomination, was finishing up his complete 3rd dog. I nearly wept openly at this sight, but being the soldier that I am, I ventured on with a drive not seen since the Crusades.

Then the Blue Moon hit me.

Then the hot wings hit me.

Then the cheeseburger, then the 151.

I couldn't complain, though. These men were on level ground. I saw in the eyes of each of them a feeling of nauseau that matched my own. The cheering and laughter from the sidelines in no way drowned out the incessant reverb eminating from my stomach. Then, all of a sudden, it was over. The abomination had won, in just under 5 minutes. Though that hardly seemed like a time worthy of a mustard colored belt, there I was, still with nearly an entire dog in my hand.

Right now I finally understand the futility of my dream. Even with the excuse of a full days worth of meals already in my belly, I didn't stand a chance. It's a feeling akin to those sessions at the batting cage with the setting on baseball-fastball. For me at least. But then again, I strike out in slow pitch softball, so what do I know.

Crimson disk of expiration...

Or red ring of death, as it is more commonly known as.

I'm sure some of you already know what I'm referring to. For the uninitiated, let's just say my 360 is on vacation. Against my will. I think that's a lot of nerve for a system that is barely 5 months old. Some of these youngsters can be so temperamental sometimes.

I was really starting to get in the groove, too. My vacation last week allowed me to catch up somewhat on my extensive backlog of games, (which currently includes Orange Box, Bioshock, Metroid Prime 3, Mario Galaxy, Call of Duty 4, Grand Theft Auto 4, Ninja Gaiden 2, Boom Blox, Smash Bros., etc.) though the xbox conked out right in the middle of the week, forcing me to switch over to Wii software and movies (I was able to catch quite a bit in like 4 days though: Fools Gold, Be Kind Rewind, In Bruges, Persepolis, 10000 BC, Definitely Maybe, Charlie Bartlett, Glengarry Glen Ross).

Still, I don't understand how MS could cock up a vital hardware component in such the way it has, and not even fully addressing the problem. I thought for sure that the overheating issues were a result of guys playing the systems way too often or in poorly ventilated locations. Well I hardly ever play and my room could be mistaken for a computer lab what with the incessancy of its air conditioning. Dang it; I've been hoodwinked!

Triple standard...

You know what I don't understand? How every action I make has a second or tertiary meaning that I am wholly unaware of. Actually, now that I think about it, it seems as if my actions have primary meanings I'm unaware of, and the significance I do place on these actions is apparently the second or third.

Allow me to paint a picture for you. I'm at the birthday celebration of a friend of the gf; not exactly the closest friend - so there probably won't be a load of people there she knows, let alone me. The gf and I sit down at an already situated booth. After a couple of minutes of mingling with the rest of the tables' residents, an unknown, attractive young woman comes over with a round of shots - shots which had been ordered before we sat down there. As such, there weren't any for us, which is obviously understandable. After the shots were taken the gf starts the round of introductions, after which it is discovered that there is one shot left over. At this point it should be noted that I was seated inside the booth, with the gf at the aisle. Well anyway, the woman hands the left over shot to me, which I gladly accept, me being an alcoholic and all.

At this point the gf starts being stand-offish, offering comments such as "I shouldn't have drinken that", which at the time caused me to look around at all the other recipients, checking to see if they were still conscious... Had the shots been poisoned? Was this mysterious woman recognized from America's Most Wanted? These were the things seriously going through my head. Well the gf wasn't really talking to me so I just started talking to the other table residents, no big whup (the mystery woman included - hereafter known as Aerith).

Several minutes pass and I come to find myself in a heated discussion with Aerith about whether beer or hard liquor gets you drunk faster, and I have always been a staunch proponent of the equality of various alcohols, provided they're consumed in equivalent ratios, so as I'm about to go into my spiel about BMI's and capillaries, she insults my beloved Bud and says I should try whatever monstrosity she was drinking at the time if I want to try a real drink. Always game for a debate, I - again - accept. At this point I hear a gasp and "Gideon!" coming from my gf. I look over, expecting to hear some juicy gossip as I take a sip. As I set the glass down she storms off as I thought to myself, "you call that a drink? I once chugged a cup of Black Label just because I didn't want to carry around the bottle anymore..." Then I thought "hmmm... maybe I shouldn't have taken that."

I could go on, but I'll simply present our eventual debate (I don't have arguments, I have debates). Her points were:

• I never should have accepted the shot, on the grounds that she didn't have one, she was introduced to Aerith before I was, and Aerith had to reach over her to put the shot in front of me, which leads me into point 2
• Aerith was obviously hitting on me, and I just sat there and allowed it; even instigating it at times.
• I accepted a drink from a) someone I didn't really know, b) a woman, c) a woman, in her presence, and d) a woman I didn't know, in her presence.
  

My counter-arguments were as follows:

• I'm conditioned to doing rounds of shots. When with my crew or hers, if a round is bought, by whomever, they are consumed without question.
  
• A shot costs an average of $10. If someone offers me a shot, 9 times out of 10 I'm going to drink it. That offending 10th being if someone already tried the shot and as a result of not liking it, spit it back into the glass.
  
• We were introduced as a couple, why would I assume some chick would attempt to usurp that, in such an obvious manner? I don't know how your estrogen infused brains operate! (It should be noted that these are simply paraphrases of the arguments)
• Would it have been different if it had been a guy that gave me that initial shot - all other events being equal?
• Would I have reason to be upset if this hypothetical guy had given her the shot instead (with or without reaching over me to get it to her)?

I had already awarded her the argument that I should have declined the second drink as circumstantially valid.

I won't get into the result of the debate, but when exactly did I lose the opportunity to accept a drink? When did unfaithfulness become a one-sided affair? Some would say these things occurred the moment we decided to "go steady", so to speak, and I can even understand the rationale behind that line of thought. I like to believe, however, that I have a choice in any potential extraneous relations, should they occur. Declining a drink from a random woman across the bar is one thing, but accepting one from an established acquaintance-in-law is another matter entirely, and should not bring about the belief that numbers will be exchanged once one party excuses themselves to use the bathroom. That's where trust issues come into play, but I won't cross that bridge at this point either.

I guess what it all comes down to is I'm sick of being told what I was doing or what I should have seen or the like. In retrospect, I assume that Aerith was, in fact, hitting on me (and really, can you blame her?) but I was not responding in kind, regardless of my actions dangnabbit. Can't a brotha be friendly without repurcussions anymore?

A chip and a chair...

So the legend is true. I just came back to win a poker tourney after being down to 1 chip (this chip representing 1/10 of the small blind). I'm not even sure how or why I wound up having just that chip, but I'm pretty glad I did. Usually when I'm at that point I just throw it into the next hand, regardless of what it is. This time I decided against it, probably because I was watching a movie at the same time and I didn't want to start another tourney.

I've gotten fairly good at online poker, and it seems to even rub off in the real world because in every instance in which I've played in a real casino in the past year I've cleaned up. It's a shame those instances are so few and far between. (Though I have yet to play in a casino in the continental US). One of these days I'm gonna enter one of those $1000 tournaments. And after I bust out in the 8th hand, I will summarily enter another one immediately, crap out after 3 hands, and jump off a bridge.

Also, on a random side note, I'm pretty sure you can make a consistent profit in super-turbo sit-n-go's just by blinding out.

The Real McCoy...

So Josh seems to think that he's the one with superpowers. Well little did he know that I decided to finally get a physical yesterday. It's been about 3-4 years since my last one. Why you ask? Well the answer to that will be revealed soon enough...

So I'm getting some bloodwork done, and the flabotamist is having a tough time getting a sample. She keeps sticking the tube in me but nothing comes out. She says that it's probably because my veins are collapsing, but I know the truth. This certainty became even more evident when, upon finishing her duties, she attempts to apply an adhesive bandage, but alas; There is no wound. My arm is entirely unblemished, even after all the repeated injections.

And you have the mutant healing factor. Ho ho ho, my dear friend, I think not.

With great power...

I came to an uncomfortable realization the other day. In two separate conversations, with two separate individuals, I made references to choices that I have made - or will make - using reasoning like "I try not to do too much strength training so my body remains lithe", or "according to my research, you can survive a 3-story fall if you...". It was shortly after that second statement that the epiphany occurred.

In my heart, I honestly still want to be a superhero.

Like, truly. Thinking about it now, the signs are all there. The research on night-vision goggle prices. The perching on rooftops looking out over the masses (working in construction helps out there). The planning of escape routes in different parts of the city. I've apparently been planning this for years. I've always kind of known, but I just thought it was a silly hobby. Now I know it's not. At some point in the near future, evil must be vanquished by my hand - or I will be considered a failure.

I already have my costume picked out. I figure something along the lines of Solid Snake, except I would wear a mask, of course. My identity would have to be kept secret because of my quasi-mortality (I'm still working on a serum to alleviate that) and my loved ones.

I would not use firearms in any way; silent weapons only, like swords and telekinesis. (Mental note to investigate the possibility of fire arms, though). I will also use some sort of portable version of the man-cannon, of my own design.

I would also have a monkey assistant - trained in aikido, though I haven't completely thought that aspect through.