I found something tonight to sort of soothe my overwrought soul, and, dear readers, you’re paying the price.
Two words: Angry birds.
Okay, I didn’t find it. I’ve played it before, quite a bit. But not on my own computer. Not in my den. Not on a little screen, or (no offense, Julie & John), a big screen TV. Though maybe I’ll need to do that…
Oh, but what manner or ornithology are you speaking of I hear you say. And why are they angry? Has something unsettled their nest?
No. It’s a video game. A pointless, fairly simple video game, the likes of which has been around at least since the ’80s: it’s an easy concept, firing projectiles at the enemy in the hopes of destroying them and their bunkers. Ah, but the enemy is green pigs in encampments built of stone, wood and glass. And the projectiles in question are the aforementioned birds. And they’re angry, apparently. I have surmised, from the pictograms presented throughout the game, that the birds are miffed about the pigs stealing some eggs. And in true American fashion, our response to kidnapping is to murder the suckers. *JOY*
I managed to wrangle a free copy from coworker. And this evening, I have managed to waste away the better part of an hour before forcing myself to quit launching birds across my screen and get down to writing this thing so you’ve got something to read for a change.
I needed those 40 or so minutes spent flinging our feathered friends at all manner of target. It’s amazing how a simple game can take your mind off of all those other stupid distractions in life…Like family, and…I kid. Really.
Each new day with the move situation continues to bring another chapter in the “you can’t make it up” saga. And there’s a point where you just can’t roll your eyes any more and you find yourself asking yourself how people can be so short-sighted. But alas, it is what it is.
And so are the Angry Birds. They are simply a game. A simple, stupid, mindless game. To which I will return briefly before I need to go to the great restorative.
See you tomorrow.