They’re gonna send you back to mother in a cardboard box. You better run.

Monday marked the beginning of what is ultimately a bittersweet thing: A really fun job that I can do with ease and skill, but leaves me sore at the end of the day due to complications such as “The tables are short, so I am stooped over for nine hours or so.”

Holy. Fronking. Shorts.

I don’t use this word ever and actually mean it, but I really hate missing out on Kung fu classes.

Meanwhile, I require a beer. Heineken preferably. I lack Heineken, though.

Oh well. Bars have them. Bars also have attractive ladies. The ladies like the Heineken.

… All kidding aside, I am seriously bored, and I want to hang with my friends again.

Where are they now? Facebook provides fuck-all in terms of helping friends get together, save for shitty advertisements, shitty notifications, and shitty chat systems. All it is is a Twitter on Steroids.

As we all know, steroids are stupid.

-HolyJunkie.

Cause if they catch you in the back seat, trying to pick her locks…

Tomorrow’s the day where I begin this new job where I work with glass, ceramics, and the like.

Obviously I’ll end up being the main grunt. If I were in an FPS game, I’d be the first bullet sponge who wouldn’t see you until you already pumped half a clip into my pathetic carcass.

Understandable, really. They wish to see me prove myself as a good worker… WHICH I AM-

In all seriousness, I’m both excited and nervous. Excited in the fact that I’m entering a profession where I create works of art through glass and ceramics- which is really frickin’ cool.

Nervous because I don’t wish to break any kind of glass by accident.

Ah well. I still have some drawings to do for a friend, which I shall complete fully once I get a reply.

…

So yeah, I’ve been sitting here, looking at this copy of Philip K. Dick’s “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep” and I’ve been close to half-way through for nearly two weeks now.

I keep getting the feeling that this book is not meant to be savoured by a single reader at a time, and that it demands to be known about by all at once.

Rightfully so, I say. But I seriously want to know what happens next.

I think it’s the crappy music my brother plays from across the room. Kills my reading mood.

I’m going to bring it with me to work, so I could read on the lunch break.

—

Let’s see… what else to talk about…?

Chrono Trigger? Nah, I’ll write a review once I’m done.

…

Oh yeah, I had a machinima idea that I meant to have out by Christmas… but it’s not out…

I wish I had it done, but I got the idea a few days prior to Christmas, so I ended up with little to no time to get editing and voicework done on top of recording the footage.

Footage is recorded, most of this newly-written script to go with said footage is nearly done. I believe that it’ll turn into quite the comedic masterpiece… Once it’s done, anyway.

My biggest worry is how many attempts I’ll have to go through in order to upload it without random bull-crap errors.

-HolyJunkie.

You better park the car well outta sight.

Just spent a whole thirty minutes looking at this writing screen.

What the hell?

-HolyJunkie.

Excerpt from “The Deal” – a book I plan to publish.

Note: If, out of some sheer coincidence this future pubished book-to-be somehow “copies” another person’s book… Um… I really don’t know how to respond to that severe kind of coincidence.

—

“I must say, you are an interesting man- by looks and of current purpose.”

I just met the damn guy, and he already knows that I’ve got a problem… and what the hell did he mean by looks? Considering the stress over the situation, this man could probably read me like a book. Hell- now that I think about it, anyone could read me like a book.

I shook the metaphors from my head. This man was implying something. He wants something to do with me. Maybe he knew I had a problem. Perhaps he could help?

“What do you want?” I asked.

The man snaked a finger under one of his goggles, scratching something out from around his unseen eye. “I know you are in trouble. I can see it in your expression, the way you move, and also how you seemed incredibly urgent with your… whatever it is that authors and artists in general do. What was it? Looking into nature for inspiration?”

I was about to ask how this man knew of my occupation, but then again, what would one expect from a guy beyond even above-average student age, with a laptop and no other accessories in the middle of the woods. Instead, I planned to ask why the man was conveniently there in the first place.

However, the man continued. “Bestselling authors these days are usually talentless. With exceptions, of course. Everything had exceptions. Despite that, everything can be called a bestseller. All it needs is a good cover with that magical stamp and a New York Times quote.”

“Never judge a book by its cover,” I said in response, remembering lessons I learned when I was a kid.

“Only people like you would know it, and practice it. It is… unfortunate.” The man’s eyebrows flattened in an almost over-exaggerated way of showing his immense sadness. He suddenly grinned widely again. His teeth were incredibly well-kept. I thought said well-kept teeth could only be achieved through photo manipulation. “But I digress. Pardon my rudeness. My name is Vincent Drawl. And you are?”

“Keith. Keith Parsons,” I found myself saying, just like I found myself suddenly fascinated by this weirdo.

“Keith, eh? Welcome to Hell.”

That was rather sudden. Taken off-guard, I asked, “What do you mean?”

“Stress is a hell unlike any other.”

“You mean apart from Hell itself,” I corrected.

“No, I’m perfectly serious.”

There was something strange about the way Drawl said that, almost as if he knew what he said as undeniable facts. A religious nut of sorts? Through my experiences, only those with that kind of mindset say those kinds of things the way he said it. The only exceptions were scientists who just proved something big.

There I was, already thinking about what this guy said, and applying it to my own thoughts. Damnit, I’m too impressionable. My sister always says that. Even in the event that got the family into this situation-

I just noticed that the man seemed to be staring at me, almost as if he were listening to me.

Drawl shook his head, almost distracted. “My apologies,” he said, sitting down on a fallen tree trunk and clasping his hands together, “My mind wandered. Go on, tell me of your predicament.”

I gave him an odd look, and sat down on the flattened grass where I stood.

If you’re taking your girlfriend out tonight…

With nothing much to talk about in regards to girlfriends and relationships, (considering I haven’t experienced either) I’d like to take a moment and discuss the Maxis phenomenon known as the Sim series of games.

With EA Games as its new masters, Maxis has degraded from an interesting simulator developer to complete sell-out, releasing the same unfinished tripe over and over again, with equally-useless expansion packs. But what can you expect from EA Games?

The Sims has become a major fad for most gamers who really don’t know any better.

To be honest, the only Sim game that was really any long-term fun was an old one called Sim Copter, where you fly an easy-to-control helicopter to do assorted missions, such as rescues, hospital runs, catching crooks, taxi service, riot control, and BLOWING THE SHIT OUT OF THE CITY!!!

It may seem tedious, but it’s especially hilarious to take your passengers and throw them out of the helicopter while at maximum height all the way to sea level.

Best of all: You could build cities in Sim City 2000, save those cities, and LOAD THEM on Sim Copter, and PLAY IN YOUR OWN CITY!

It really IS as awesome as it sounds!

Alas, such old games wound up forgotten, sitting in the piles of old computer games such as the on the shelf across my room.

I should say “Our” room, since my brother and I share the same room with a bunkbed.

Bunker V is damn close to completion. We just need to get that furnace hooked up and we can work there indefinitely. All the difficult tripe will be done, making room for all the easy stuff.

And then I finally have my own room, filled with only my stuff, and kept clean to a mirror shine. Yes, even the carpeting will shine in the sunbeams.

I’m just THAT GOOD AND STUFF!

-HolyJunkie.

Review: Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs

I never thought that the Hollywood Machine would go so far as to take such a classic and stretch it into a 90-minute flick.

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs is a short story that I recall reading over a decade ago. After watching this movie, I wanted to read it again and understand it. In all seriousness, this movie can’t be telling the same story.

Random Disaster-esque action scenes, romantic subplot, father-son relationship subplot. It has all the cliche tripe.

But somehow, it’s actually smart about it. Hell, it even knows that it’s one of those cookie-cutter plots.

To compensate, it not only borderline parodies the cookie-cutter movie sequence, but it does it well.

The jokes are intelligent. The visuals are actually fun to look at. Sure it’s got the same animation quality as Bolt, but it knows it’s just a cartoon based on a ridiculously unbelievable children’s story.

It knows the story was just plain silly, so it shows that in this movie.

As for the plot… I’m actually going to tell you of the plot this time, because it’s ultimately so generic that there’s really nothing new to it, save for the hilarious visual and verbal jokes.

Flynn is a guy whom was trying to be an inventor since he was a kid. He made spray-on shoes that ended up permanently encasing his feet in said spray-on shoes ever since he was a kid.

I found that just plain stupid beyond imagination, but it did account for some hilarious jokes based around them. I had to pardon them when the Big Dumb Bully guy in the first scene call out the spray-on shoes’ main flaw right off the bat. He called them right off like some kind of analytical nerd, which made me aware of some amusing irony.

And really, it all got better.

Anyway, Flynn invented a machine that could transform water into food. After an incident involving the opening of a theme park to try to attract tourism, Mr. T (No, really. Mr. T actually is in this movie, and he’s awesome.) and the requirement of the island’s power station to power the Food-O-matic, the thing rockets through the town, blowing shit up, and flies into the stratosphere… where it somehow stays afloat above the island.

Then it starts raining food.

Thanks to radio signals, Flynn could summon food from the sky. As a result, he became the most popular guy on the island (A complete U-turn, mind you.)

Of course, you have the Evil Mayor guy whom is evil and tries to exploit this for his own “greed for town popularity.” You have the Weather Girl… Her purpose is obvious. You have the French-looking midgit whom works as a Deus Ex Machina machine. (Which worked!) and you have the old-school, level-headed Dad whom really didn’t feel that this inventing and water-to-food thing was really a good idea/natural.

The one character I didn’t really like was the monkey, but at least he worked.

In reality, nothing is really wasted. You could say there are plotholes up the ass, but the movie is self-conscious about said plotholes, and passes them off with the reason “You’re looking at a cartoon film based on a children’s book, where food falls from the sky, and you’re trying to take this seriously?”

The moment I saw Mr. T’s character, I knew they weren’t even trying to make things that serious.

Oh yeah. Snowball Fight scene: Funniest. Shit. Ever. Period.

Give this movie a watch.

-HolyJunkie.

Pieces of Eight and the Dawn of Chocolate.

The shelves were ransacked. Wrappers littered the area. Boxes were either thrown open and left partially folded on the floor, or shredded by someone with too little patience to take off the sealing tape.

Meanwhile, the fourteen thousand, seven hundred and eighty-three dollars and forty-two cents in the register, and the twenty dollar bill left on the counter, remained untouched. The owners of both lay in a fresh puddle of their own red fluids. Two men, both at the destroyed shop out of their own interests.

Chocolate, a drug for the sweet tooth. A cooking ingredient, a snack, a source of an energy boost for whoever was not thirsty.

This area of the New Earth lacks any good enough climate for growing cocoa beans as easily as back on Earth. If it’s not too cold, the parasites will chew through them easily.

New Earth- also known as Sagan. It was named that way by the men of the ship that discovered the planet in the first place. Astronomers back on Earth whom found it through their ultra-advanced orbital telescopes.

People call it New Earth because it generally looked the same from orbit. Mostly blue ocean, with the green and brown landmasses. However, there was less green and more gray, and there were only two major continents- save for the ice caps on both ends. People also called it New Earth because it had generally the exact same gravitational pull, the exact same gas content, and almost the exact same distance from its respective star.

Many people have been chosen by the government, or lucky enough to win assorted government-funded lotteries, to aid in colonizing this world. By the year 2120, the first men and women beyond the so-called “scouting party” had arrived.

It was now 2170. The population was now a quarter that of Mars: seven-hundred and seventy million. As people colonized, and the more advanced space ships became, intergalactic travel got cheaper and cheaper.

The one thing the police had to ask themselves as they looked over everything was this: “What the hell was the point of this? Double-homocide, on top of massive robbery, and for measly chocolate?

Someone either had messed-up priorities, or nothing better to do. Or maybe it’s because on this planet, chocolate was one of the most valuable commodities in existence.

Another day, another crime revolving around chocolate.

Just another day at the office.

But keep your dirty feelings deep inside…

Today was a pretty interesting day. For starters, I woke up earlier than I usually do… About two hours before noon.

Needless to say, it allowed me to digest breakfast by the time we went to Kung fu and thus avoided stomach pains from exercising whilst digesting something.

Not a pleasant experience. I could count the days to prove it… Actually I can’t. You do know what I mean, right?

After Kung fu, I went to my friend’s work at a game shop having its grand opening. While there, I played some Grand Theft Auto 4, some Left 4 Dead 2 for the Xbox 360, and Borderlands.

Grand Theft Auto was just as boring to me as it was last time I played. Left 4 Dead 2 on the 360 was hugely inferior to the PC version, and Borderlands can really only appeal to a certain kind of audience.

After an hour of playing Borderlands, a sort of review kind of fell right onto my lap. It’s not at all difficult to review. If you’ve played Diablo 2, Call of Duty, and you like an art style that resembles Team Fortress 2, Fallout 3, and Tales of Symphonia all rolled into one and cut out all the Japanese tripe.

You jump like a Halo character, you run, aim, crouch, and melee like a CoD player, and the RPG elements scream Diablo 2 like a banshee with a megaphone.

I found it fun. Most others would find it boring. The only reason I didn’t play more was because I didn’t want to feel like I was intruding at said store and eating all the donuts.

Except I was far from feeling like that. In fact, I was like the purest angel of a customer over there. There were funking kids over there whose balls haven’t even dropped. Freckles, lack of wrinkles, and all. They looked like those kids you’d see in commercials with damn-smooth skin and shit that makes them look like the cutest little shits on earth.

Cute really doesn’t identify itself to me. I can’t really see “cute” unless a random boob-donning lady friend points it out to me in the first place.

Come to think of it, it’s been a while since I hanged out with one of said boob-donning lady friends. It’s probably because they’re all busy with school, relationships with other people, and generally depicting for themselves a relatively false sense of accomplishment.

Meanwhile, I usually have too much time on my hands and a significant lack of variety in everyday tripe. Today was a good break from repetitiveness.

… Well, except voice acting and doing stuff that really only contributes to Youtube videos and a company that I technically don’t exactly work for… At least until I somehow get a contract from them.

That’ll take a few more videos that I plan to make… and less laziness.

-HolyJunkie.

You better run all day, and run all night…

I really hate having to break into my own house. Although it’s not exactly “break” it’s more or less “bypassing locked doors without the usage of a key.”

All the windows in my house are more or less inaccessible, save for one. That one is damn impossible to get into…  unless you’re like me: Cunning, agile, flexible, physically fit with a huge resistance to constant pain, and wearing nothing but the shirt on your back.

The only other guy who could get through this near-impossible-to-enter window would be Jackie Chan.

Whatever.

I’ve been developing a plan for a series of novels I’ve been thinking of writing, all revolving around the same general force.

Update on on Vs. Weegee: We’re implementing a double-jump. We’re fixing the kick mechanism rather than scrapping it entirely. Effects are added to the Charge-attacks, but there’s something wrong with them.

Platforms for the first “Brawl” level are placed and give general colour. Background still needs to be made.

Yeah, quick update. Feeling like crap after hanging half-way in an open window with a vine tangled around my shoe, a belt preventing me from pulling through, and two annoying little shits- I mean cute little puppies whining for their “mummy.”

I’m not their “mummy,” by the way.

-HolyJunkie.

And the hammers batter down your door. You better run.

I have a few things that I really haven’t gotten around to doing for reasons that remain unknown even to me:

• Finish reading “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?”
• Obtain legal shape or form of obtaining dough.
• Get around to reviewing movies.
• Write the number of Machinima series ideas I’ve had.

So I shall do it right now. Good night, ladies.

-HolyJunkie.