Whaling
This last weekend was a flurry of activity I’ve not experienced since the “-4 to Perception” haze of Norwescon. I’ll leave out the gory details, but I will say that it involved babies, helicopter pilots, soccer, and 88 cent shirts.
In the end, I was bribed to make the journey over to White Center, an oasis of civilization on the other side of the toxic industrial wasteland southwest of Seattle. There, I finally partook in that most diabolical rapture, the pestilent cheesecake which tempts gamers young and old. Yes, I drank deep from the twisted golden chalice and became the Hero of Guitars.
It was a blinding sight to behold, not because of my skill, but because of the absolute ineptitude with which I assaulted and violated the poor guitar-shaped Xbox controller. However, after an hour and a half of play, I was able to score a 92% success rate. On a five-star song. On Easy.
I do indeed whale hardcore.
Hope your weekend was as much of a blast as mine, and my condolences to those of you who are back in the university trenches. God speed on a safe and perjury-free semester.
Groove out.