Proof that there is no God: Getting splashed by a passing car on a rainy day.

Common phrases I never get: 
"I'll be in the last place you look." - Of course it will. If I find it, why the hell would I keep looking?
"More things than you can shake a stick at." - What? Is this some retarded folk saying that somehow survived the test of time to be handed down to modern generations? I challenge you to find something that is so numerous that I somehow fail to make stick-shaking motions in it's direction. Cos it's not as hard as you seem to think it is.
"Smile! It might never happen." - Hey! Guess what! If I'm ticked off, chances are it already has. And your overly-chipper approach to the situation is making it a damn side worse.
"It's a small world!" - No. No it isn't.
 . . .
Somebody get me a hard-hat! I think. . . hold on, wait a tick . . . I think . . . yeah, I'm pretty sure it's . . . I think I'm getting an idea.
Now just bear with me here. Just hold on now, because I've got some pretty weird thought processes going on here. Uh. It's coming. It's on the tip of my frontal lobe. It's. . . I think. . . it's . . . 
 . . . 
What was I talking about again?
 . . . 
Oh, yeah, the idea!
OK, so here it is.
 . . . 
Are you ready?
 . . . 
Are you sure?
 . . . 
You might want to order a new interior designer ahead of time because this will, in all likelihood, blow your mind. It may cause you to spontaneously paint the wall immediately behind you a very disgusting colour.  
 . . . 
OK? 
 . . .
This is it!
 . . . 
For realsies this time.
 . . . 
Here we go!
 .
 . . 
 . . . 
Crunchy! Nut! Frosties! Crunchy-Nut-Frosties! . . . . . . . . . . . .That is all.
 . . . 
Nope. Wait. False alarm. Wasn't an idea after all. 
Just a brain fart. Never mind.
 . . . 
Wow. Looks like it's time for our new annual cold snap here in Ireland. 
It is sooo cold here. (This is the bit where you say "How cold is it???")
 . . . 
You didn't say it!
 . . . 
Anyways, it's so cold,
 - My clothes have frost bite. I had to amputate my coat with a circular saw after walking into college.
 - I can't even bring myself to take my hands out of my jeans pockets to change the song on my iPod (sitting in my hoodie). I mean, the Kaiser Chiefs? What in god's name was i thinking? Their entire album could have their lyrics printed on the back of a playing card. Its just that repetitive.
 - Yo dawg, that weather's so cold yo girlfriend wuz out sunbathin' in it. Fo' realzies muthafucka!
 . . .
I guess that's a wrap. Go and make something with a rock, paper and some sticky tape. I did. Turns out I suck at making stuff.

Stuff you should look up: Back by unpopular demand!

Life's Great Mysteries #2399: 
Y'know, I actually have real games on this laptop. They came on a disc and everything. They were in-depth, immersive, and brought much time of enjoyment. Why haven't I played them in so long? (Goes back to mind-numbing flash games)
 . . . 
Flash Games
 - my favourites, round 2!


1) Auditorium - Fantastic. An audible feast. An eargasm. I don't know why I left it out of the first list!
http://www.indiepubgames.com/game/Auditorium


2) This Is The Only Level - Another great one from jmtb02. 
http://www.newgrounds.com/portal/view/508676


3) Hedgehog Launch - Launch a hedgehog into space. That's pretty much it. How the heck does it work so well?
http://armorgames.com/play/4001/hedgehog-launch-2


4) Crush the Castle - You have a catapult, they have a castle. 2 + 2 = destruction.
http://armorgames.com/play/3614/crush-the-castle


5) Shift - A great platformer with an even better game mechanic!
http://armorgames.com/play/751/shift
 . . . 
Note to self: Do not, under any circumstances forget the thing with the stuff in the place.

A Journey across Ireland: Don't Stop Believin' in people.

Humanity: A rediscovery.

. . . 

OK, so those of you looking for pissed-off rant can move right the fuck along because for once (or twice, if you count that one time in Greece with the Ouzo and what I thought was sugar) I am actually feeling good. Pretty damn good, in fact. It turns out that little light in the human soul, the glimmer that keeps us all for murdering the person who sniffs repeatedly and loudly in the cinema with no ill-will, the feeling that makes us put a copper in the money box at the till, the flame of human decency, is still with us.

 . . . 

Alas, I have no picture for you this time. Here, have an owl or something.

What? Why the fuck not?

 . . . 

Right, so I'll back the hell up here a bit.

I finished my semester in college two days ago. Top of the god damn world, amiright? You've got to love continuous assessment at a time like this (and despise it for all others). So then I realise I can finally go to a 21st birthday over on the other side of the country. 

 . . . 

I should probably get to the point before this turns into a pointless narrative.

I spent most of the first day at my cousin's rented house, where she made me a full meal and she knew that I was only passing through on my way to the party.

The people at the party were, in a word, amazing people to surround yourself with.

The takeaway after the nightclub had fry-up-breakfast pizza.

I had to sleep the night at the friend's friends house, and they made me feel like family.

The bus I had to get to get back home required exact change. I wasn't to know. I only had a twenty. Quick as a flash, a stranger my age handed my fare to the driver just saying "Don't worry, man, I've been in that situation myself more than once." I almost wished I could have handed in my "sense-of-self-worth-card" there and then.

Several pensioners got on the bus, and were spoiled for choice by the offers of seats, again, from students. (I was standing also, so I hadn't a seat to give before you start giving me accusatory interweb-glares)

On the bus, I met two of the friendly people with whom I had been drinking the night previous. One was going in a similar direction to me, and as such was happy to give directions to a meeting place (see below).

As luck would have it, a friend was also making the trip back across the country, so I only had to take that short bus ride to a meeting point, before getting in a comfy car to be driven back to my bed.

 . . .

To a hungover, unshaven, jobless, naturally acidic bastard like myself, the last 24 hours have been, to put it honestly, making me wonder why the fuck I try so hard to promote the viewpoint that everything has gone to shit.

Maybe it's the recession-era psyche starting to forcibly drag us back to when we saw others as human rather than opposing meatsacks whose sole purpose is to keep us from our Very Very Important Appointment with the X factor.

Maybe it's merely the combination of several factors such as a night out, good banter, no exams, coupled with an extraordinary set of coincidences which seem almost predesigned to make me look like a raging dickwad in a world of upper-class gentlemen.

Or maybe it was the fact that I made absolutely no concrete plans about this little excursion, found myself woefully underprepared, before finding myself handed literally constantly from new friend to new friend without any of them so much as complaining a mite, all of them being amazingly helpful.

Maybe I just can't see what I already have anymore, and I need to actually appreciate the place I'm in in life right now. This moment. Now.

Maybe this is Karma offset from when my PS3 was stolen. In that case, What The Fuck, Karma?!?

Maybe I'm tired. Reeeeeeeeeeally tired.

 . . . 

That's it. I'm knackered. Go tell a friend they're awesome or something.

Stuff you should look up: Mindless self-indulgence edition!

Can someone help me out here? I'm trying to remember the name of a song. You know the one, the one that came out sometime in the last few years and sounds like this:


Oontz oontz oontz oontz oontz oontz oontz oontz oontz oontz oontz oontz. etc.


What's that? All of them?


Well, shit.
 . . . 


 -Videos
   ----Video Game Related
 
 . . . 


1) Zero Punctuation. A man with a british accent and scathing wit reviews video games each week in his trademark style: quickly.
http://www.escapistmagazine.com/videos/view/zero-punctuation



2) Unskippable. Two guys give their opinions on games based on their opening cutscene.
http://www.escapistmagazine.com/videos/view/unskippable



3) Extra Credits. A thought-provoking look at various aspects of the game medium and how it triumphs, falls, and needs to grow as an industry along with its stakeholders.
http://www.escapistmagazine.com/videos/view/extra-credits



4) Red vs. Blue. The first of the videos not found on the escapist.com, a long running web series starring the cast of the Halo series. Also write and star in their own hilarious shorts.
http://roosterteeth.com/home.php/



5) ENN. Aaand we're back to the escapist again. Spoof game news series. From the makers of Unskippable.
http://www.escapistmagazine.com/videos/view/escapist-news-network


 . . . 
Wooo! Look at me bein able to embed videos on my page, bein all technologically wizardish an' shit! Pretty soon I'll remember how change the blog background to something that actually matches the blog title.
 . . . 
(Previews blog post)
 . . . 
Fuck. I'll have to change it to a format that fits videos too. Oh well, baby steps.

Sometimes life just gives you the finger. And not in the sexual way either.

I walk home from the library. It's a pretty long walk but I'm in the mood for it. Then it starts raining. Then the heavens open and I wonder whether water physics has gone a bit mental and wondered if it's supposed to go over or under sea level. Then my phone runs out of battery, robbing me of the ability to call a lift. Several runny-drippy-shouty minutes later I squelch through the front door of my house, and quietly fume to myself for a few minutes. The rain stops. I drop my bag, curse, and go and have a big drink of water from the tap because nothing tastes sweeter than irony.
 . . . 
Bwaahahaha,
At the point of writing typing this paragraph, I'm drunk. Thank god for spellcheck. Not too drunk to not remember this though, which makes all the difference. Just at the stage of drunk which enables the stage of saying stupid stuff while the mind is still screaming in the background "why the fuck did you say that?!>?". Why don't I go out to night clubs more often? For a variety of reasons. 
The music is deliberatley too loud to prevent conversation, hence more drinking and more spending monies. The bottles all have that weird spout thing on the end to give the inpression of more drink being poured, hence more drinking and more spending monies. And the women aren't generally attracted to the glasses-type. Whatever. It makes me wonder the effects and general point of alcohol.
Why doo we need this chemical to adjust our point of inhibition? Wudn't the world be a better place if we cud all say what we meaned at all times???
Actually no, scratch that idea. That would be the instant degradation of the human race. We have secrets for a reason. It's a small blessing alcohol allows us to divulge them and yet allow us to keep them. :P
 . . . 
Shit. Did I actually write that? Ah well. Drunken blogging. Yet another thing I have now done. It shall hereafter be referred to as drogging. (dogging? blinking? alcologging?)
 . . . 
I reckon I have now heard of the saddest thing in the world: Single player drinking games. And yes, they exist. How miserable must you be not only to be drinking by yourself until some blood starts to get into your alcohol streams, but to play a game while you do so? That just seems so depressing to my slightly world-weary mind (and the blog title even has the word "cynicism" in it for crissake!) that I can't even begin to gauge it. It's like Robert Mugabe thought he was doing pretty well on the "crazy leader scale of 1 to Hitler" until he opened a book and found out about this guy called Kim Jong Il. I may be cynical, but I'm not so frickin depressed that even a bottle of alcohol won't talk to me when I get hammered, so I'd need to invent a game that gives me that illusion.
Ugh. Not a nice idea. Here, look at this and try and cheer up.
 . . . 
I'm currently watching an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie with the sound off while the Benny Hill theme music plays. It's called Commando. It is. Fucking. Hilarious. The plaot is, as it looks to me, is that Arnie is the worlds most retarded superhero (complete with inability to run and habit of running towards gunfire), who's only power is to make everything he gives a stern, squinting look at immediately turn into a high explosive. This includes walls, people, and petunias.

Stuff you should look up: Back for revenge, with a vengeful vengance!

On this weeks Syslu!
Life changing secrets are uncovered!
Deadly betrayals plotted!
Uncontrollable lusts ravaged!
Fantastical worlds discoved!
Some guy makes a list!
Amazing new developments save countless lives!
And at least one of the things previously mentioned actually happens!

All this and more (kind of), coming up . . .
 . . .
 . . . right now!

Flash games 
  -My favourites

1) Ice Breaker. Puzzle. You are an omnipotent viking god. You must save your clan. They are trapped in ice. You can break the ice. Go figure.
http://www.nitrome.com/games/icebreaker/


2) Grow. It's . . . it's just . . . bizarre? Hypnotic? Mindless? Brilliant? All of the above.
http://www.eyezmaze.com/eyezblog_en/blog/2009/01/grow_tower.html#monster

(I recommend the walkthrough after you give it a few tries)


3)Infectionator 2. "The time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time." The preceding quote in a nutshell. You turn the world into zombies. Also, Micheal Jackson zombies, Ronald McDonald zombies, etc., etc., etc. . . .
http://www.newgrounds.com/portal/view/527013


4) Canabalt. For those who are just window shopping through these with no time, give this a shot. It's fast, you'll give it that much.
http://adamatomic.com/canabalt/ 


5) Achievement Unlocked. From the excellent mind of game maker jmtb02. For those who know about "Achievements" on the XBox 360, this game is a fantastic parody of the fleeting and empty sense of accomplishment they give. 
http://armorgames.com/play/2893/achievement-unlocked


 . . . 
That's yer lot for this week. Now go find an awesome new desktop wallpaper or something. . . 

More stick-shakers than you can shake a stick at!

Wow! I have over 50 friends online in facebook chat at the moment! That must be a record for the number of potentially life-changing conversations ignored at once!
 . . . 
Don't you just hate it when you think you have your brilliant, enjoyable life all figured out, then someone comes along and ruins it by rubbing their stable, loving relationship in your face?
 . . . 
What's the furthest thing you have planned right now? Go!
What it is in all probability a holiday next year, or a new job/course or, best case scenario, wedding or some such celebration. What it is definitely is no more than a year away. Guaranteed. If it is, you should probably go bungee jumping or something, man, because anyone who's got that sort of planning capacity is headed straight for a Schwarzenegger-sized stress-induced heart attack. (As opposed to a Schwarzenegger-induced heart attack which normally happens by way of excess high velocity lead in the body)
Humans simply do not have the capacity to comprehend large numbers. It's the same device that stops us from realising €499 is just as bad as €500! Marketers long ago realised that people still only see the "4" in 499. Hence why we still put up with that .99c crap. One year to us is just a massive amount of time that cannot be scheduled with any real intent. Of course, that changes when we reach retirement age, since a year seems so much smaller then than when we're, like, 20. 
Why then, do I keep being annoyed by people saying I should be creating ideas for my Fourth Year Project?
 . . . 
Yes, I get that it comes from experience that we should have a contingency plan for our FYP. Yes, I understand that I will, in time, come to regret the decision to ignore you. But there is literally nothing different about your year that will change my year's mind. There is no big change that will suddenly cause us to heed every word you say, in the same way that you didn't heed the previous years, as they didn't heed and so on and so forth. 
 . . . 
(/end whiny, bitchy mood swing)
 . . .
So with that in mind, can you please see that I'm trying to do the job that's in front of me, like I have done for the last few decades? Can you please let me enjoy the now, rather than draw my eyeline to the biblical-grade storm gathering on the horizon? I mean, whatever happened to enjoying your day to day life? 
 . . .
Speaking of my day to day life, someone in my college course recently decided that it was, quote, a load of balls, but since I'm in too deep now I may as well try and salvage a degree out of it.", end quote. That right there is something that really made me sad to hear, and if those words ever pass my lips, please sew the traitorous fuckers right up, cos I want nothing to do with a body that says ridiculous things like that. (by which I mean more ridiculous than usual.).
Where would I rather be?
In an engineering course, where maths act like a maid with a vacuum, sucking up the fun, dark dingy corners of existence, and shining a light in places once thought impenetrable, capping it all off by slapping a number and measurement on it?
In a pure art course, where nothing is true and nothing is false, and anything is a lie and everything is subjective, which robs any standardised grading system of any purpose, and its students of any meaningful direction? What good is creativity if your going to look at the finished product? At least interior designers have that going for them.
Nah, I'm perfectly alright where I am thanks. And if you want to angrily bluff your way through the rest of the next one and a half years of your life, then good for you. I plan on enjoying mine and being awesome while I'm at it.
 . . . 
Thats all I can think of right now. Now go and be awesome for a while.