I am on the cusp of the wonderful malady known as Mononucleosis (or Mono, to the small of mind). I've bee sick since Saturday, as some of you may well be aware, but the extent of my illness was unbeknownst to the lot of us, including myself, let me assure you. I've been to the doctor twice so far, been prescribed many a medication, and although my mono test read Negative, the doctor assures me to put my faith in his faith in the faultyness of science, rather than my hope in its supposed accuracy. In short, he says I have mono despite the test, and it means I'm out of commission for God knows how long.
But this is not the end of our adventures together. Nay, since my leap to blogspot, I've felt that I've left you wanting more in terms of my articles. They lacked the intensity, vigor, pointlesslessness, and ridiculous length of my previous Xanga articles. Well, from now on, consider me back in business. Today marks the day where I, now confined to my computer for an undetermined length of time, have nothing better to do than share my thoughts with the peons of the interweb. Here we go.
I totally started playing Super Mario 64 again the other. Mother fuck that is a good game. You guys have to remember it. It was the one that looked like this:
Hello, you fat fucker! You want to eat a sausage don't you? Well, you might as well eat a DICK because it's weight-altering mushrooms and rotating metallic coins for you!
Super Mario 64 was a great game because it was the first 3-d platformer ever. It was so groundbreaking, you could show it to people who didn't even like video games and they would literally crap in your mouths. It wasn't exactly the best way to express how impressed they were, but still, as a gamer in the early 90's it was nice to get a little bit of approval. Then again, if you were a gamer in the mid 90's, crap in your mouth was probably the closest thing to sex you'd see for twenty more years, and without the prostitute, maybe thirty. You'd take what you could get, even if it meant beating off to those pointy-titted faeries in Ocarina of Time.
That mask doesn't really sound that powerful. I had that same affect when I wore shorts in San Francisco, and I got those at the Gap.
In any case, Mario 64 was really awesome on many levels.
Level 1: The amount of sheer fucking around you could accomplish. I can't tell you how many times someone has been in the room trying to tell me some bullshit about what I need to do or who could die if it doesn't happen while I'm in the middle of an important game. Some fuckers don't understand that there is a pause button easily accessible in the center of my controller. If they come in and say "Excuse me," I will hit pause. If they come in and say "Matt, here's a list of things I need from you," I will not only continue to play, I will formulate a knew way to stuff a venomous animal inside their larnyx for each time I fucked up based on their distraction. With Mario 64, even if I was trying to do something in the game, if someone entered the room to bother me, I'd just do crazy shit like climb a tree and throw myself at a turtle or see how long I could stay underwater without suffocating or run around in figure-eights until I wanted to vomit, and then both people in the room were happy. I was having fun doing nothing, and they felt satisfied that they thought I gave a shit. It's the perfect balance between love and fuck you.
Level 2: Bowser
He has that sweet laugh. You remember it. BWA HA HA HA HA! You heard it all the time.
But the best part was you just had to spin the bitch by his ass to kill him. You'd think if I were choosing the battleground, knew my home terf, knew that my weakness was being picked up by midget Italian plumbers, spun around and hurtled into deadly objects, I'd try to keep my Mario Death arena free from a series of symmetrically placed exploding spike balls. But no, Bowser was always kind of a retard. Ever since the early games. Check it:
Now I'm no Architectural mastermind, but it seems if you want to ensure confrontation with your archnemesis, you would avoid placing a platform directly above your head that allows him to jump over you. That's just poor fucking planning, Bowser. And while we're stopped here, what's the fucking deal with your name? King Koopa? Koopa King? Bowser? What is it? To be fair, they all suck. Either you're the Monarch of a retarded child's bastardized word for shit or you're the kind of archaic nickname Mr. Burns might give Smithers if he was dressed as a dog in a homoerotic fantasy. Neither of those images particularly strike terror into my heart, and when you're a six foot tall lizard who breathes fire and has fucking horns coming out of his back, you have to do a lot of fucking damage before I start getting iffy on the terror thing.
Still Bowser's a pretty cool character until he has to fight Mario.
BITCH!
Level 3: Mario loves spaghetti
Man that fuck fucker loves to eat. He's a chubby boy. He eats spaghetti.
Mario might be killing goombas, but he also might be struggling to finish Grandma's linguini from last night! MAMA MIA!
Level 4: Chicks Love Mario
Check out that Tat. Mario's ready to hit the weightroom, as long as his GUNS don't set off the metal detectors! Who's ready for a ride on the Italian Stallion? LAAAAADIES?
Face it, no one can resist a man in a moustache. Chicks think they are always attractive. Examples:
In conclusion, Mario is a well-groomed gentleman ready to pump a lady full of Italian Dressing until she screams for an Invicibility Star to keep her vagina from exploding. And if you don't think that metaphor was sexy, you might be Sean Penn, because you're dead inside.
Princess: Oh Mario, couldn't you pleasure me just once?
Mario: Jesus Christ! Buy a vibrator! Or call Luigi. You KNOW he ain't got shit to do!
Princess: But I'm so...so...lonely...
Mario: Sorry, bitch! These two fingers are only good for one thing! And that's peace out, kids! Thanks for playing!
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