Y’know the expression, life kicking you when you’re down? I realized it isn’t so much life somehow getting worse, but more that relatively small problems feel so much worse because you’re already stressed and angry. I’m encountering this right now. On my post where I talked about taking a quick break I mentioned some…personal family troubles we’re going through regarding my sibling. Things are still rough at the moment, and while I don’t mean to diminish how bad it is for my sibling, the stress and stuff does transfer over. I’m not sleeping well, I’m worried, I’m tired, I’m angry, hence the need for a break. But anyway, back to the point: it looks like my power supply in my PC is on the fritz, and so it just feels like life has stuck on its steel-capped work boots, taken a few steps back so it can get a proper run up and has kicked me right in the ribcage. Of course, that’s not the case. I think it’s more that my power supply dying isn’t a huge problem, or at least not one I’d stress over this much normally. Sure, I don’t have the cash to replace it, but normally I’d get annoyed, shrug it off and just accept that these things happen and that my computer could end up being out of action for a short while in the near future. But because of everything else, I’ve taken this whole power supply like a personal affront to my existence as if God himself emerged from the clouds and broke it. It’s like an entirely unjustifiable feeling of anger I have toward my power supply right now. Like, if it was a person I’d kick it in the balls and make some sort of joke about its mamma.
Hello, friends! Well, my day didn’t exactly get off to a great start. I loaded my doggo (Laoch, the white German Shepard) into the car and headed out to a lovely woodland walk. But just a few minutes in we walked straight into a group of irate wasps that seemed to have been riled up by somebody or something ahead of us. Whatever the cause, one wasp, in particular, did not like the look of my face, so it hammered into the side of my cheek at full speed and rammed its stinger home. I had to yank the little bastard off, which left the stinger in. After that, I unleashed a string of expletives so loud and descriptive that I’m fairly sure sweet old ladies all the way in Australia held their hands to their mouths and said, “oh, my!” After that, I had to carefully get a wasp off my dog’s head where it was trying to burrow into his hair. So yup, that wasn’t the best start to my day.
Saints Row 2 proved to be quite the success for Volition so it wasn’t surprising that they almost immediately began work on a third game. However, for the sequel they moved in a new direction, describing it as a reboot for the series with a focus on being over-the-top to help differentiate the game from Grand Theft Auto. Well, they certainly accomplished that goal, but the result is a wildly different game from its predecessor. There’s even big character changes like the boss of the Saints (who you play as) going from a vicious psycho to an almost Nathan Drake-esque action hero. Sure, it was Saints Row IV where the series went completely off the rails and didn’t so much jump the shark as it did blow the shark up with a UFO, but Saints Row: the Third did at least leap over the shark while wearing a luchadore mask and swinging a giant purple dildo. Now, nine years after it first launched, we have Saints Row: The Third Remastered. How has the game held up over nearly a decade?
I missed last weekend’s Weekend Whammy, but I’m back and as mediocre as ever! HUZZAH! And this damn cold I’ve had since New Year finally seems to be loosening its grasp on me. I still feel rough around the edges, but I’m considerably better than I was, so let’s do this!
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