I love watching Scott play video games, because I get to enjoy helping strategize and finding hidden treasure and stuff without having to learn the controls and such. Lately he’s been playing Mercenaries, which is an awesome game. It’s broken up into four parts, based on the suits in a deck of cards. I didn’t see him play any of the Clubs contracts — I only started watching him play halfway through the Diamonds. So I figured I’d start up with a different mercenary (he chose Nilsson, the insane murderous Swede — I picked the British chick, because the other guy was a surfer dude and seemed boring).
It took me 3 days to get through all of the Clubs contracts, and now I’m hooked playing this damn game. I’m pretty much using my sniper rifle on everybody, because it’s my favorite video game weapon. At least this game isn’t open-ended — you can do one contract at a time and try to manage your time.
In the next few weeks, my TV docket is going to get much more full. Lost comes out of hiatus on 1/11. American Idol will be back, as will Beauty and the Geek and Dancing with the Stars (although the “stars” seem just as b-list as the first season). Not to mention good-looking new shows like Love Monkey (with geeklicious TV boyfriend Tom Cavanaugh). I don’t know about Skating with Celebrities, but I’ll give it a shot.
From my lovely friend Kerri comes a fellow named Jonathan Coulton and his sensitive new age guy version of Baby Got Back.
War on Christmas, blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda.
I think my biggest problem with wishing people “Merry Christmas” throughout the month of December isn’t that it’s offensive to people of other religions (though I do believe it can be), but that with every other holiday, you tell people to enjoy that holiday on the day of the holiday.
Man, I wish that for the month leading up to my birthday, people would wish me a happy birthday. But it’ll never happen. And it’s not like the entire month of November people are wishing me a happy Thanksgiving. We don’t spend all of March wishing people a Happy Easter, so it’s not just a secular v. religious issue.
I only want to be wished a Merry Christmas on December 25th, damnit.
Had a good casino party gig last night out at the Fairmont Olympic Hotel, formerly the Four Seasons. Very swank. Only one guy tipped me, but it was a nice tip.
Afterward, I was standing out on the sidewalk waiting for Scott to pick me up. I got to watch the well-dressed folks and their taxicabs at both the Fairmont and across the street at the W Hotel . . . man, from what I saw, you’d think Seattle is a taxi-heavy city. But if you watched The Amazing Race, you’d have a much better idea of the true taxi load in this city.
This chick walked past me on the sidewalk, gabbing on her cell phone. The back of her jacket had something written in glittery cursive. At first, I thought it said “Apple Blossom”, but then I looked closer, and saw that it really said “Apple Bottom”. What?
We’re probably going to go out to the airport today, to trade in our vouchers for actual plane tickets. Then our Disney World plans will be solid.
First off yesterday, there was a mid-day improv show. It was for a group of 50 or so administrative folks from a health care insurance company. When we first got there, we heard the dreaded words from our contact: “You guys are a surprise!”
I hate it when we’re a surprise. Usually, it means that the employees haven’t been told that there will be any entertainment at their holiday party, so they’re all prepared to do nothing but drink and chat amongst themselves. Then we show up, and steal away their social time and make them pay attention. Not usually the best show. Fortunately, this group was one of the better “surprise” groups — they were attentive and well-behaved, and really enjoyed the show.
I can now say that the Rock Salt Steakhouse on Lake Union has incredibly nice views.
Gig number two was my first ever casino dealing gig. Turns out it was a charity casino night-slash-auction for Just Cauz, some kind of charity organization for “young professionals”. It was a pretty fascinating crowd, with probably 50% being polite and smiling to us “help”, and the other 50% letting their eyes just glide over us as they moved along with snooty looks. Ah, young professionals. They were able to buy beers for a dollar all night, so by the end of the evening, some of those YPs were very, very silly.
It was a fairly fun experience overall. The guy at the table behind me was cool, so when we didn’t have anyone playing at our tables, we people-watched. One of the auction items was Bentley, an 8-week-old purbred Golden Retriever puppy. Bentley got passed around a lot, becoming either a chick- or dude-magnet depending on who was holding him. One lady had knee-high boots on that were the same color as ol’ Bentley, so she was dubbed “Puppy Boots” for the rest of the night.
The thing I loved the most was that they had a bunch of name tags, and everyone had to grab one and wear it. Not our own names, mind you. So I was “Kelly McManus” for the night. I always love having a fake name.