Lament of the American Gamer

Fact number one of RPGs (that's Role-Playing Games to you outsiders): Japan makes them better.

I mean, really. Let's think about some of the top-selling video game franchises of all time. Mario? Originated in Japan. (As did everything else Nintendo, including Pokemon and the Legend of Zelda.) Final Fantasy, to name my personal favorite, has been around since 1987 (that's ANCIENT in video game terms, my friends), created 13 mainstream games, at least 10 spin-offs including two full-length 100% computer-animated MOVIES, and sold over 96 MILLION games to date.

Of course, with all these games originating in Japan, it takes a good six months to a year for the game to come out in America after it's already surfaced in Japan. This leads to spoilers, leaked cutscenes, crappy fan-dubs and know-it-alls who post EVERYTHING on the Internet. Basically, once it comes out in Japan, it's fair game for anybody with a pocket translator.

Now, for purist die-hards like myself, the Internet becomes ANATHEMA during this period of overlap. The particular example that's bugging me currently? Oh, just guess. Yes, it's Kingdom Hearts.

Kingdom Hearts: Birth by Sleep is the fifth installment in the Kingdom Hearts series, or sixth if you count the remake of Chain of Memories (which I generally don't.) It released in Japan on January 9th, and isn't scheduled to come out in America until... um... 'summer 2010,' it says. (Which, knowing them, means something like October. Really.) And I legitimately DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS. Not until I play it myself. I ruined the Kingdom Hearts II experience for myself by looking up spoilers.

This would be all hunky-dory, except Anne, who has no such restraint, has been looking up the entire story on Wikipedia, watching all of the cutscenes on YouTube, and now knows the entire story. The worst part? She was sitting there watching the scenes WHILE I WAS IN THE ROOM. Granted, I don't understand any of it, since I can only listen, but I can still see her facial expressions, and she was TOTALLY FREAKING OUT today. I can't ask, because I for serious don't want to know... but then again, I do...

This is so hard! Curse you, Japan-based video game corporations!

Vespula Flavopilosa

(That's the official Latin name for yellow jackets. AKA the spawn of Satan.)


I. HATE. BEES. In fact, I'm pretty much INSANELY APIPHOBIC. (Any of my family members or close friends can vouch for this.) Flies? Beetles? Ladybugs? Don't bother me. Spiders? I actually considered getting a pet tarantula for a while, until Mom's reaction was 'NO WAY IN HELL.' But bees? Forget it. I freak out. Sometimes I even go into full-on panic mode. When I was a kid, I distinctly remember running around my backyard in zig-zag patterns because I was CONVINCED a carpenter bee was following me.

Let's clarify this a little. I'm not allergic to bees. I've been stung a couple times, and it doesn't really hurt beyond being annoying. That said, there should be NO GOOD REASON why I'm pee-your-pants terrified of the little guys. Not that that matters with the whole phobia thing.

The reason I'm telling you this? At approximately 9:45 this morning, about fifteen minutes after I woke up, I heard a buzzing noise and turned around to see a BIG UGLY WASP flying around my room.

Cue panic attack.

I flipped out entirely, ran to the opposite end of the room, waited for it to fly to my side of the room, and then made a mad dash for the door, fully intending to run into Anne and Emily's room screaming 'MAKE IT GO AWAY!'

Problem: they weren't there, and the door was locked.

I figured my options were these: 1) run back in, open the window, and PRAY TO GOD that it flies away; 2) run screaming into David and Zack's room instead, 3) chase it around madly with a flyswatter and hope it doesn't sting me or 4) hide out in the bathroom and wait for Emily, Anne, or Aliena to come rescue me.

Options 1 and 3 were immediately discarded, because I couldn't force myself to go back in there. (Yes, I am a big chicken. SHUT UP.) Option 2 was... well, shaky at best, seeing as which I was still in my PJs, and not exactly dressed for seeking out the help of XY-chromosomes.

So I texted Emily and Caitie (Caitie understood completely, being a total arachnophobe, whereas Emily and Anne proceeded to laugh and tell the whole story to their Civilization class) and ran into the bathroom, where I proceeded to hide until an hour later when Anne and Aliena finally came back.

And that's not even the best part. I made them go into the room first. They discovered the wasp in question perched innocently on the blinds, and proceeded to inform me that...

Oh yeah. It wasn't even a wasp.

It WAS, in fact, a black-and-yellow beetle of some sort, that was roughly the same shape as a wasp, and could POSSIBLY be mistaken for a wasp if someone with an irrational paranoia of the damn things saw it flying around.

It's funny in hindsight, but at the time I was, needless to say, exceedingly embarrassed.

Why Humanities SUCKS

As I write this, I am sitting in the most useless class in the universe. No, really. HON 205 - Humanities I.

And because this blog is titled 'The Dorm Room RANT,' I'm going to take this opportunity to do what I do best - gripe.

WHAT THE CRAP? Why do I care about letters that some jerk-face philosopher wrote to his nun-girlfriend? (Yes, you read that absolutely correctly. It's called 'The Letters of Abelard and Heloise'.) Moreover, why is my professor's opinion the only one that matters? It's the Honors program, people, I can think for myself!

While I'm on the topic of useless crap, let's talk philosophy. I mean, every Honors kid had to read Plato's 'Republic' last semester for Rhetoric. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. So why would they make us read it again for this class? (Keep in mind that I have the crappy set of professors for this class, who will remain nameless.) Other Humanities classes got to read something new. They got to read Aristotle (okay, not much better, but at least it's not quite as boring as reading something YOU'VE ALREADY READ.)

-pants-

Okay. I'm done. For reals.

But one more thing. Whose idea was it to schedule the most boring class in history on Tuesdays and Thursdays? M/W/F classes are 50 minutes long, but T/T classes are AN HOUR AND FIFTEEN MINUTES. Talk about excruciating.

I think I might die. Only thirteen minutes left in today's class, anyway. Maybe I'll make it.

Mochaholic

Today is Wednesday, which means I had Health class this morning. And since Health is a boring, unnecessary subject that any idiot with common sense can pass without trouble, it takes a lot of effort for me to pay attention through class.

Effort -> read as 'coffee'.

Every Monday and Wednesday before Health, I go to Starbucks and order my usual: a Grande Peppermint White Mocha and a blueberry muffin. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. I mean, routine is a good thing, right? And peppermint white mocha is pretty much the only flavor of Starbucks goodness that I like. So naturally, I headed in there this morning and waited patiently in line for my daily fix.

Except as I walked in, I heard the cashier announcing, 'We're out of Grande cups, peppermint syrup, and white mocha.'

Me: ...But... but... -head explodes-

But I steeled myself, took the next best thing, and grabbed a Venti Hot Chocolate, which, may I point out, doesn't have NEARLY as much caffeine and isn't NEARLY as tasty. Needless to say, as I walked out of Starbucks, I was... annoyed. (Read as 'VERY, VERY AGITATED'.)

So of course I did the only thing I ever do in these situations that threaten to detonate the H-bomb in my skull: whined to Caitie. (And David, but he just laughed at me, because he's a JERK.)

(note: this is an exact transcript of our conversation.)

Me: D: they were out of my white mocha coffee! -has seizure-

Caitie: Calm down. Breathe. Now, grab your knife, and demand to know who bought the last one. Once you know, go mug them. If you hurry, you still have a chance.

Me: D: I don't have time to mug someone, I have an exam in ten minutes!

Caitie: Holy cats! (yes, she really said that.) Try the cinnamon dulce latte! Try the earl grey tea! Something!

Eventually we decided that after my test, I needed to go pillage and burn the Starbucks to the ground, and pour my untold wrath upon the unsuspecting employees. EKU students, I hope you're not too attached to that store. It might take them a few months to rebuild.