Black as You Wanna Be

Here's the thing: I love video games but I suck at them. I'm not big on violent gory stuff too. Or maybe I just love the idea of video games. Actually, I just love Yoshi and all the Mario Brothers characters (minus Daisy and Peach). Since Roomie is more mature than I, (or maybe Mario is seen as childish) he plays the 'adult' games complete with gore and carnage.

He's got a subscription to Game Fly, and this week, the game was Def Jam Icon. The sleeve mentioned something along the lines of 'starting a record label and signing artists.' I thought it was like a journey-similar to Donkey Kong. HELL NO. You're suppose to open a can of whoop ass on your opponent to the beat of the music. I think that's the part where EA was trying to integrate the music aspect of Def Jam into the game more so than its predecessors. Hubcaps spin and twinkle to the beat of the song. Roomie fought Luda. He fought Redman. He fought T.I. He fought Young Jeezy (who the fuck is Young Jeezy?)

Here's the amazing thing: after an hour, Roomie was kicking ass and taking names! He's the whitest white boy I know. I'm Asian and have urbandictionary.com favorited. Neither of us understood half of what was said. Maybe it was the Ebonics? Maybe it was the poor grammar? It was just incomprehensible.

So there's the option of building your own gangsta rappa. Or fighter. Whatever. I'm impressed with the amount of detail put into building your own person. Everything was adjustable. From the color of the eyes, to the shape of the eyes, to how high the cheekbones were-absolutely everything was changeable. And in the middle of it Roomie asked, 'How black do we want him?' Yes, even that was an option. Our guy (named aptly: Playa) did so well that he got $1,000 to go buy clothes. We're trying to sign on more people and get richer so we can afford to get him a grill (priced around $35,000). I'm not sure what the goal of the game is, but now I'm hell bent on getting him a grill. That's how we roll.

Denied

I love my new home. Its very comfortable, and by that I mean its nice but not over-the-top. Its tastefully decorated, lots of open space, and comfy. The thing I love about the complex is that someone was nice enough to steal three shopping carts and keep them in the garage. I know-it seems ghetto until you realize that without it, you're going to make 4 trips up and down to get all groceries in. Since I'm in the process of moving, I have much more than just groceries. So here I go loading up the cart. Groceries at the bottom of the cart. Then I have a garbage bag fully of dirty laundry that I threw in. Over the sides of the cart I draped the dry cleaner I just picked up. On top of that was a bag of toiletries, and a bag of miscellaneous items. This cart was chalked full of stuff. Across the garage I go. Up the elevator, and down the hallway. None of the flooring is carpet either, mind you. Its looks almost like huge brick pieces. I know I'm going to do this again tonight and tomorrow night. I'm seriously thinking of investing in some ear plugs it was so damn loud. The safari animals in Africa probably woke up.

Too bad I was so excited about my new place-otherwise I would have just felt homeless. I totally had the look down: dirty jeans, hair unkempt, huge part of my life wheeled in a shopping cart.

This is going to be my downfall in my new home: I can't get in. The lock doesn't turn for me. I had this problem when I first picked up keys, and two days ago when Lisa and I dropped off some items during our lunch hour. 5 minutes I'm fiddling with this lock. The door will not fucking open! So now here I am, sweating profusely, near tears, and my shopping cart is somewhat warped and threatening to roll away from me. AND I CAN'T GET IN!!! (notice how I'm already calling the shopping cart 'mine'?)

I call Lisa and ask her how to open my door. Her words, not mine: 'You have to be gentle with it-slide it in slowly and out again a couple of time, and maybe wiggle it around some.' (what are we talking about??)

Either way it didn't work. So the only thing I can think of doing is trucking the shopping cart back down to the garage. What a way to announce my presence. Off I go again clanking and baning down the hallway. At this point I'm not sure what to do. Oh-on top of all this I NEED TO PEE.

Finally I break down. I go introduce myself to my new neighbors and say, 'hello! I live next door and can't get in. Can you please teach me how to work the lock?'

I can't remember the last time I was so excited to be inside. Oh wait-probably the last time I had a tall cup of coffee and then ended up sitting for 45 minutes in traffic.

My roomie came home much later. I informed him that under no circumstance was I to leave the town home again. I'll deplete my checking account, savings account, stocks and mutual funds (in that order). Once I'm down to only having enough for a month's rent, I'll put in my 30 days. His response? 'Cool!'

New Home

I signed the lease to my new digs this afternoon. Exciting. I can't wait to move. My new roomie, E-Dawg, is showing me around the building, and we're discussing, among the communal things, what he has and what he needs.

Me: Do you have pots and pans and bowls and that kind of stuff?

Him: Yeah. It should be enough for us.

Me: Ok. Good. I don't know how to cook, but I like to try once or twice a month. Do you have a fire extinguisher??

Him: ...

Me: I don't want to burn down your place...

Him: Oh-I like the way you think

I was tempted to ask and make sure he had fire insurance and that it'd cover stupid acts like me attempting to cook. But then I don't want him to kick me out before I've even moved in.