Showing posts with label Angry Birds. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Angry Birds. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

A Milestone Reached

All right, it's happened— I've done it. Mission accomplished. Goal achieved.

I've gotten three stars on every available level of the original Angry Birds game. Yay me.

!!!

Look what it's gotten me. Do we all see how the long, long hours of work, the dedication, the carpal tunnel syndrome was worth it? How the cramp in my flinging finger has paid off? Look at the AMAZING contribution my tireless, almost-robotic game-play has made to society, to the arts, to the WORLD. Not to mention all those golden eggs. Wow. What an achievement. What a great cause to focus all your energy on. Time Magazine, are you listening? Man of the Year, perhaps?

Really. I want my damned parade.


Sunday, May 15, 2011

Sunday Roundup

My house is redolent with the odor of skunk. How it manages to permeate every room, with no windows or doors open, is one of nature's lovely mysteries. Our (stupid, accursed) dog has been banished to the garage for the night. That heady mix of flatulence and burning tires, it's like a noxious tonic for the soul.

Not much of note this week. My throat regained its vigor just in time for an audition and a taping. The audition was for a fourteen-year-old boy; the taping was for a monkey, and an anonymous pig. How I love my job! Where else could I do that? (Well, truth be told, I did that for ten years at Lifeline Theatre in Chicago, but now I get paid for it!)

I was all set to write about my waning obsession with Angry Birds, had a lovely "End of the Affair" analogy, but then they had to go and make a new "Rio" version of it, complete with marmosets and blue macaws. Damn their ingenuity! So I'm back in, trying vainly for some balance. It doesn't help when I get T-shirts like this from a fellow user:

My favorite website, Towleroad, found me a video that perfectly sums up my toxic love for this game, and it does it to an Adele song:



And finally, from the cool website Gizmodo, a story of an amazing 258 square foot house which is an inspiration for all Zen-minded, clutter-despairing, secretly-wishing-to-be-Germanic-in-totalitarian-house-cleaning folk like me:



It doesn't hurt that the guy is so cute, but, boy, is he going to have some problems when someone gets serious and moves in with him. Though maybe he could stow his boyfriend away, too. Hmm... that might be ideal...

Have a good week!

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Birds are Back in Town

Tick. Tick. Tick. Minutes before Easter Sunday. I've placed the giant log of brioche dough rolled with cinnamon and sugar in the refrigerator, from where it will be taken out the next morning, sliced, left to rise up gloriously like our Savior, and be transubstantiated into pecan sticky buns. The pizza rusticas are cooling on the racks. I could go to sleep now and get my rest for the double shift to come (brunch and dinner), but, no, I'm waiting, idling in the kitchen as if I'm unaware of my procrastination. Wipe the counter, make notes in my cookbooks.
Should have taken the photo before
the Sticky Bun Massacre
Tick tick tick.

Midnight.

12:01. "Denis, James has invited you to play a game of Scrabble."

12:02. "Susan, James has invited you to play a game of Scrabble."

12:03. "Bob, James has invited you to play a game of Scrabble."


I'm back, baby!

Yes, after the long, looong self-imposed exile from the land of app games, I am free once more to roam in the latter half of my iPad. Hello, my little darlings, it's so good to see you. How long was Lent? It felt like years. What? It's only been since March 8th? Impossible! Let's never fight again...

Coronary in a Crust
So, how did my little experiment pan out? Well, I can't say that I've felt any more productive in this time period. Granted, we had vacation and sick child during that time, but the lack of distraction didn't spur me onto any great heights of creative output, as I was kinda hoping it would. My days did seem more... accounted for. I got a bit more sleep, and I read tons more books. So that's a good thing. I'm a gonna try to cut back on the games, play them more... mindfully, but I'm doubtful. I'm kinda an all-or-nothing kinda person (this is also true when it comes to the sticky buns and pizza rustica, unfortunately). But I'll try. Curbing compulsion is freeing.

And how was my return to those Angry, angry Birds? Well, I have to say, the magic may be gone. It's like when you have an absolute obsession over someone, and you can't stop thinking of him, and imagining yourself with him, and scribbling his name on napkins... and then a few years go by and you find yourself wondering, "What was the big deal about that guy? I played a few rounds of Angry Birds, but it really didn't so anything for me. It was the same old hitting the wooden planks with colored birds, and no matter how much holiday dressing, it felt rote. I really don't see the attraction any more. I may not be going back...

Yeah, right. It rocked! I plowed through eight levels and I RULE those pigs with the bunny hats on! Only now I'm developing a slight pain in my forearm from all that repetitious iPad flicking of birds... maybe I should have eased back into it a little more slowly...




One Last Thing. Some fun for those who love trashy reality shows, Oscar Wilde, or both:
 The Broadway cast of "The Importance of Being Earnest" take on the witticisms of the Jersey Shore (thanks for the heads up, Towleroad):

http://www.towleroad.com/2011/04/watch-jersey-shore-meets-oscar-wilde.html

Thursday, April 21, 2011

A Small Indiscretion

Sunday: it was a tiring, unspun day, clogged with snotty tissues rising like yeast on my son's night stand, bowls of uneaten soup and cups of unsipped tea, rumpled sheets and the constant search for the inhaler to administer puffs of albuterol. A sleepless night. The day meted out in four-hour increments for medication. Finally, I'm able to leave the house for a quick trip to the gym. I sit in my car. I'm alone. I'm unneeded (this is a good thing). I'm too tired to start the next thing, and then I get the Urge. Fierce, sudden, and uncontrollable. Why don't I do it? There's no one around... time for a quick one. I deserve it. And without further thought, driven by primal need, I pull it out.

Squawk! Squawk! Da-da-da dah, da-da-da dah, da-da-da-da-da-da-da dah...

I know. I know. A week away from Easter I had to break my Angry Birds fast. I was so close! Jesus wept. I didn't play long, just three rounds of "Ham 'em High" (there were new levels!) where the pigs were on the train, and the next one where they are under a dangling bridge... and then I felt dirty. Dirty dirty dirty. Remember how Piper Laurie felt when she confessed to Sissy Spacek in "Carrie" about her husband coming home that night with whiskey on his breath?


And I liked it, I LIKED IT!
That dirty.

No app games since, though I did play "Toy Story 3" on the PS3 with Benjamin (he was sick! It was bonding!) I'll be able to hold off now until the Resurrection, mostly because I'll be baking AND because I found a new, healthy alternative to games, something quick and fun and entertaining!

Bossypants

It's good. Really laugh-out-loud funny, and in easy, snack-size portions. If you like "30 Rock" and Liz Lemon, this is just more yummy goodness. (She writes just like my friend Sue Ferrara talks. Amazing.) If you don't like "30 Rock," (yes Mom, I know you can't stand her AND that Baldwin fellow) then by all means, shun the book, or better yet, buy a copy and bring it to the book-burning that I'm sure Sarah Palin is organizing right about now.

All right, must go and make a pizza rustica. And sticky buns. Maybe a brioche.

Sublimation reigns!

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

At the Late Night, Double Feature, Picture Show

"How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable 
seem to me all the uses of this world..."

Though I'd like to attribute tonight's insomnia to my lack of app game playing (almost a week, folks!) it's more likely the bronchial infection currently invading my airspace (yes, I'm on antibiotics). I haven't been able to notice any difference in my game-free life because I'm moving at a much slower pace, and have little desire to do much of anything. Which would be a perfect time to play games, wouldn't you think?  Add to this the fact that those damn people at Rovio (creators of Angry Birds) have released a FREE update in time for St. Patty's Day. It's topical! How could I not play? Plus 15 more levels... Resolve...weakening... Rovio knew I was trying to get clean. They don't want me to get away. They're probably watching me now, through a hidden app on my ipad. It's talking to me now: "One of us... one of us..."


I'll tell you one thing: without games, the ipad becomes a LOT less exciting. Sure, it's a great book reader, and it can carry my contacts & calendar, but without exploring those delightful, time-wasting tidbits contained within, the ipad becomes less delicious forbidden fruit and more Franklin Day Planner.

 In related news, Rovio's expanding the Angry Bird Franchise. They've raised $42 million and are planning on creating an empire of chattering, Angry Birds, across multi-platforms, including Facebook. Didn't I warn you all? They're coming for YOU next!


God, things get weird around here after 2 in the morning.

Okay, did you see this video? (it may be pulled by the time you see it). Apparently, a kid who was bullied gets fed up and body-slams his adversary onto the concrete. There has been an almost-universal chorus of cheers for the bullied boy and gleeful catcalls against his tiny tormentor. Now, I know we've seen this "picked-on-boy-takes-a-stand-and-finally-whups-ass-of-trashy/snooty/psychotic-enemy"many times in the movie, and we're conditioned to see it as an inspirational and triumphant act, but to me there's something just so sad about it all. Violence begetting violence. It would have been so easy for that retribution to turn fatal, and then there would be one boy dead and one boy scarred for life. I dunno. What do you think?

Beware the Ire of Cranky Gay Man! The NYT reports that Mars Needs Moms is on its way to becoming one of the biggest flops in motion picture history. I didn't realize I had such influence...

All right, must try to sleep again. Have an audition to voice a Disney toon tomorrow, hope my voice miraculously rejuvenates. Good night.


Okay, one more. Anyone remember this?:

I think I've lost my mind.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

The Curse of the Birds

I'm in big trouble. There's a rickety edifice barely standing before me, all plywood boards and stone. Some of it has already come crashing down. Shards of glass and wood are scattered on the ground. I'm hoping the whole thing will just topple over, but by some aberration of physics, the structure holds. Those dirty pigs are behind it all. I only have one last chance at exposing them, one last red bird to fling. One chirping, belligerent, angry, angry bird... Angry Birds are chattering. Angry Birds will be avenged. Angry Birds will Never Give Up.
Can anyone save me from these Angry Birds?
I'm picking on the Angry Birds, my newest compulsion, but it could have easily been Plants Vs. Zombies. Or Edge. Peggle. Even Scrabble or the NYT Crossword have hounded me (though these, I repeat to myself, are for ALZHEIMERS prevention). It's the world of Apple App Games, baby, and I'm addicted. 
I was a prime candidate, really. Back in college, there was Donkey Kong Jr. and Galaga, at our local bar/restaurant (Yesterday's, and Leslees, respectively). The thing about games back then was you had the impediments of Money and Place and Time to save you. In order to play, you'd have to pump actual quarters into a machine, a literal representation of how much cash you were using up. You also had to get to a specific, non-home place to play, and you had to set aside time in order to get your ass over to that place. My compatriots and I did a lot of damage, but it was concentrated, in furious, late-night bursts.
When I got a computer, the games followed (Alice, Lemmings, Dungeons of Doom, Myst, etc. etc.). They were kinda pricey, so I only bought one at a time, and played that until the end. I would do marathon sessions in the comfort of my own home, but I was still tethered to the computer. As long as I wasn’t near one, I were safe. 
Fatherhood arrived, with its attendant responsibilities. Who had time to play anything? I couldn’t devote huge blocks of time to sit down and play games, which is why I never really got into the Nintendo/Playstation/Wii craze. Okay, yes, there were bouts of Sudoku (for the ALZHEIMERS) and Spore, but nothing too crazy. I was clean.
Then came the ipod Touch.
The ipod,and it's turbo-charged cousin, the ipad, swept away all impediments. These little gismos are with me at all times, can be pulled out at a moment’s notice. The games are cheap, or free. Nothing too convoluted, or complicated, just tiny, mind-numbing bursts of joy. The Place is Anywhere, and the Time is Whenever, as in, whenever there is a moment. Waiting for the toast to pop up. Standing in line at the post office. About to get out of your car in the parking lot. Wherever there is a small space of time between blocks of appointments and chores, the games are there, ready to fill the space up, creating a solid wall, with the mortar threatening to outsize the bricks. It's really the antithesis of Zen Buddhism, which strives to create space, to live in the present. With these time-wasters, space is not permitted, emptiness is quickly and lovingly filled with beeps, chirps, small explosions and exclamations of digital triumph, wrought small. App games are the the anti-Zen.
What‘s the enticement? It's the Illusion of Getting Something Done. I passed the level! I got 3 stars! I beat the high score! It’s much easier, and falsely satisfying, than Actually Getting Something Done. The trouble is is that soon it becomes a habit, done without thought, and then it becomes a sickness. The game is playing you, not the other way around. You do it reflexively, even when there's no joy to be had in it. What was once a diversion from your day becomes your day. The Machines have taken over. 
Of course, this whole post is really a lie. I’m still using. I still play. As much as I decry my addiction, I want you to join with me in it. I wish to pass the sickness on, because Delusion, even more than Misery, loves company. It's part of the malady. I want to share my tips on how to get the football player zombies with the corn missile. Want to find out how you’ve uprooted that piggy in the wheelbarrow. Where the Golden Eggs are. One of us, one of us...
To recognize the problem is the first step in overcoming it, right? Writing about it lessens the urge. Haven’t played all day (except for the NYT crossword, and that’s for the ALZHEIMERS). I think maybe I’ll try only playing at night. Or log how much time I’m wasting. Maybe even (gulp) delete the app.  I'll figure it out. 
Just as soon as I get past this one stage...
Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “A man is what he thinks about all day long.” Why do we want to become a nation of Angry Birds?