Saturday, January 22, 2005

Hello, World of Warcraft.

Hello Todd, you sexy, sexy bitch.

Oh, now, hey...come on. Why do you have to go and say things like that?

Because I love you, baby. I want you. I need you. And I know you need me to.

Look, I know we've had kind of a serious thing going on here lately, but I think maybe it's time we started seeing other people, you know?

Who are you kidding. You know you want me, need me, can't live without me.

It just seems like you've maybe become a bit too big an influence in my life. And I'm beginning to think you're using me.

Moi? Whatever might I be using you for?

Well, money, I guess, more than anything else. I mean, you're not exactly cheap.

And I'm not easy either, baby, but I'm worth it. Worth every penny. Because I love you long time, I love you like-

Okay, stop with the sexual innuendo. That's getting creepy. You're a video game for God's sake.

I'm not just a video game and you know it.

That's what concerns me. You're more like crack cocaine.

But a beautiful, sexy, well-designed, and-oh-so-fun to be around kind of crack cocaine. And if you were pregnant while you played me, your baby probably wouldn't come out all malformed.


Well, I mean, I don't know what you're doing when you're not with me.

What are you implying?

Nothing, baby, nothing. I know it's only the best for you -- I know that's why you're with me. And you should know that's why I'm with you too. Because I only have eyes for you.

And the other 60,000 people who are currently playing the game.

They don't do it for me like you do.

Oh, you are such a liar.

You don't believe me? C'mon...come visit me tonight. I'll help you get your Warlock to level 25.

I don't know...

I know you want to.

Sure, I mean, of course I do, but...

It's the right thing to do, baby. You know it in your heart. We were meant for each other. Now love me -- love me all night!

This is the creepiest conversation I've ever had.

You know you want it. Level 25...

Okay, you win. I'll see you in a few.

Don't keep me waiting, lover-boy.

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

Mr. McDonald?

Aren't you done with this whole "question and answer" gimmick yet?

Unfortunately for you, it appears that I am not.

Fine. What do you want?

Tough year, huh?

What, 2005?

No, I mean the last 365 days.

Ooooh, that.

With that whole "Supersize Me" movie...

That guy was just hungry for media attention.

You're saying his claims were wrong?

I'm saying he could have made a documentary about a eating nothing but rocks for 30 days and what would have proven? That you shouldn't eat rocks every day for a month.

You should eat rocks in moderation?

Okay, the rock thing is a bad example, but you get my point. You're not supposed to eat a Big Mac every day for a month. You're not supposed to eat a Big Mac every day for the rest of your life, either.

So you think he may have blown things a little out of proportion?

I don't want to talk about him or his stupid movie anymore.

And now a former McDonald's CEO has died of colon.

A tragedy, surely.

With just a hint of irony, don't you think?

I'm not sure I follow you.

Well, diets high in fat are believed to predispose people to colon cancer.


And McDonald's food, as a general rule, tends to be...

I would advise you not to go any further with that question or that implication or whatever else you might want to call it. You, sir, are bordering on defamatory speech.

I was simply pointing out something I thought was an interesting irony, or coincidence, or...

I have our lawyers on speed dial.

You'd do that, wouldn't you?

In a hearbeat.

I thought that Ronald McDonald in any language meant, "Fun."

Yeah, well, around here it means "Shut your mouth or I'll sue your ass off."

I'm just gonna go now. Thanks for your time.

Monday, January 17, 2005

Ms. Aniston?

Call me Jennifer.

Jennifer, then. How's everything going?

Well enough, I suppose.

You're going through a bit of a difficult time, I imagine.

Kind of, yeah.

With the whole separation thing.


It's gotta hurt a bit, I would imagine.

Is there something I can help you with, or...?

I hear you moved in with your hairstylist.

That's right.

Have you been sleeping with your hairstylist?

For God's sake, no.

But you moved in with him.


You don't think that's weird?


Not even a little? I mean, my wife and I separated a few years ago, and I didn't move in with my hairstylist.

Have you looked in the mirror lately?

What are you implying.

That you don't have a hairstylist.

You're dodging my question.

Why do you care who I move in with or not?

Well, I've got a spare room here. You could always come stay with me.

Thanks, but no.

Rent is super cheap.

Really, no.

Your loss...

I'm sure it is.

Does it bother you that everyone is curious about these details of your private life -- your breakup, who you're moving in with, who you might currently be sleeping with?

It's kind of troubling sometimes, sure, but you have to be prepared for that sort of thing in Hollywood. I mean, you have thousands of people watching your every move when things are going well, it's to be expected that even more will put you under the microscope when things turn to shit.

Do you think they hold you to a higher standard because you're celebrities? That, because you somehow managed to escape suburbia and boring 9-to-5 jobs, they think you should be better than this, that you should be impervious things like the end of a marriage?

I think it's the opposite of that, actually. I think that because people expect our lives are so wonderful, that when something terrible like this happens to us, they're secretly thrilled. And they scrutinize each passing moment because they know we're suffering just as much as maybe they have in the past, and they're happy about it.

That's fucked up.

Kind of, yeah. After all, we're all human. We all feel the same joys and the same heartaches. There's no reason to be particularly excited at my heartbreak over anyone else's.

That's a beautiful thing to say. Are you sure you don't want to come and rent one of my spare rooms?

Really, thanks, but I've already moved my stuff into my hairdresser's place.

Remember me if things don't work.

Sunday, January 16, 2005

Coming out from the cold

Hi blog.


What's happening?

I'm not talking to you.

What's the matter?

Don't play innocent with me. You know what's the matter.

Okay, so I haven't been here in awhile. I've been...neglectful.

There's more to it than that, and you know it.

What are you talking about?

I've seen you with that "World of Warcraft" hussy. I know *why* you've been neglectful.

Now, hey, come one...

You've *replaced* me!

It's not like that!


Look, okay, maybe WoW has taken some of my attention from you...

All of it.

...okay, all of it. But it wasn't my fault. A friend of mine bought it for me, and if I'd known I was going to take to it like a crack addict, I never would have installed it. And now that I have, it's too late. I fear my soul may be lost.

Exactly my point.

But you forget something too.

Oh, and what's that?

This sort of thing, it's never permanent. It's a temporary fling. It's only because it's so new, and so pretty. And because it has an amazing online gameplay experience. But all that will fade eventually.

And then?

And then I'll come back to my one true love.


No, you stupid blog, you.

You're just saying that to soften me up.

Is it working?

Well...maybe a little.


So, does this mean you're back to the blogosphere?

It might, but I'm not making any promises.

You already made promises -- you said in your column that one of your new year's resolutions was to update your blog *at least* once a week.

How the hell did you read my column?

That's my little secret. Doesn't change the fact that you made the promise. And publicly too.

I should learn to stop doing that.

Yes, you should. Does that mean you're back to the blogosphere?

It means...see you next week, I guess.

Better than nothing.

Hey, blog?


It's good talking to you again.

It's good to be talked to again too.

Wednesday, January 12, 2005