:: Electric Psychedelic Pussycat Swinger's Club ::

:: Tuesday, March 11, 2003 ::

power pellets

I can't believe how pathetic i am.

Instead of studying, i just spent the past 30 minutes playing one game of Ms. Pacman on my laptop. Years of practice have contributed to my mastering the fine art of procrastination. Rembrandt worked with oils. Rodin preferred to sculpt in bronze. Hokusai? Woodblock prints. My canvas: Ms. Pacman.

But it wasn't a complete waste of time. I recorded a new high score of 171,580 points. Yay me! You wanna know the saddest part? As soon as i beat my previous high score, i had to run and tell my roommate about my grandiose achievement. But being the inept gorilla he is, he had no clue if that was good or bad. So during the course of explaining the finer points of Ms. Pacman to my uncultured friend, he happened to ask if it gets harder
to score points as the levels progress. I began to explain that the window of time you have to eat the ghosts (the gravy-train for points), after eating a "power pellet", shrinks until eventually they don't even turn blue anymore.

Just then, a sudden and overwhelming sense of shame made me freeze in my tracks.

A sheepish grin overcame my face as i realized i had just spewed forth the words "power pellets". Yes. It has come to this. Instead of learning about leasehold estates or the intricacies of the 14th amendment's equal protection clause, i'm locked in a heated debate with my roommie about how Ms. Pacman is waaaay more advanced than regular Pacman; how it's not even close to being the same game. After all, Pacman doesn't even have eyes! Lord help that boy.

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