Giving = Receiving

I love humanity...on principle. I can be nice. I help out lost tourists if they ask. (Do I send them in the right direction? Generally speaking, yes.) I tip generously. If drivers clearly have to rush home to poo, I let them go ahead when I'm at a crosswalk. I give to charity. I recycle. I call my mom every day. And today, as I listened to her laments about her bad back, it dawned on me that giving isn't better than receiving. Giving is receiving.

Allow me to elucidate. My mom puts up with a lot of crap at work. Apart from the evil administrators who deprive employees of basics like use of the microwave and going outside to eat, her coworkers apparently keep borrowing small amounts of money for lunch and then never pay her back. No big deal; both my parents believe that relationships are far more important than money, and have drilled this value into our heads. But it gets annoying after a year, right? So that's her situation: give, give, give. But then, recently she had a horribly painful backache while at work. It was so bad she started crying. She was all set to go home, but these same coworkers told her not to because her pay would be docked. Their solution? They split up her tasks among themselves so she could rest quietly in the nurses' station. So she got paid back for her generosity. (paid back -- get it? get it?)

Here's another example: Fiancé and I were walking home from brunch last weekend when we spotted a giant U-Haul truck with an attached pod trying to maneuver in the narrow streets of the North End. Ever gallant, Fiancé spent the next fifteen minutes helping the man make a very tight turn without hitting parked cars. Success! What did Santa's darling helper get as his reward? Why, the gift that keeps on giving: me.

Speaking of me, I got a bonus this week, plus a ton of presents from my coworkers. Seriously -- all the swag barely fit into an oversized bag. I am still trying to puzzle out what I gave in order to receive such bounties. My inspiring work ethic? Ha ha ha! No. My unflagging smile and cheerful hellos for everyone? Maybe. My spirited participation in all entertaining yet strictly useless discussions? Perhaps. My unsolicited showing off of pictures of my cats? Getting warmer, I think.

Whatever it is, I'm convinced that every good deed, like every bad deed, gets its due. 'Tis not just this season; 'tis all year round. Although there appears to be a concentration of good stuff happening around the holidays, selection bias might be at work.

Now if you'll excuse me, apparently someone just fell into the river next to my office, police and the coast guard and firemen are everywhere, I must ogle. From my nice, warm cubicle, obviously. It's wet and gross out there.

Oh, and happy Friday!

Movie Review: Attack the Block (2011)

Attack the Block is an enjoyable teens vs aliens movie. The main character, Moses, starts out as just another juvenile delinquent leading other hooligans. Then the aliens come, and Moses and his band of loyal followers bring it. Well, eventually. After all, they're up against giant beasts with a double row of teeth that glow in the dark.

As the aliens close in, the boys retreat back into their apartment block, where they gain unlikely allies. They also manage to antagonize the local drug dealer along the way. That doesn't stop them from making a beeline for the safest place in the block: the dealer's fortified weed room, which incidentally holds the source of, and solution to, their extraterrestrial problems.

The soundtrack of the this movie is pimp. The beats pound away as the youths' inner city lives come into focus. Attack the Block isn't shy about social commentary. At one point, Moses speculates that the aliens have been sent in to "kill black boys." Earlier, one of his friends laments that they mugged a nurse: "Why did we go after poor people?" They smoke weed with a major pothead (Nick Frost, of course). They're barely supervised. But that works to their advantage, because parents can be such a killjoy when you announce that you're off to fight aliens, and where's the biggest kitchen knife?

Watching the movie, Fiancé was struck by how much of American culture has spread over the Atlantic. The kids in Attack the Block could be mistaken for typical gangsta youth in the States, if not for their British accents. John Boyega, who plays Moses, looks like a teenage Denzel Washington. But the characters in the movie have extra grit that lets them make good tactical decisions: flee when possible, attack when necessary. In the end, Moses comes up with the plan to end the alien threat. There's a glaring absence of police throughout the siege of the block, but I think that's because the movie demands it.

It's easy to see why this film has achieved cult status. Attack the Block features strong performances, a sharp script, competent cinematography, and of course, a pimp soundtrack. It's a pleasant distraction from the soul-crushing dreariness of your life. Wait, your life isn't soul-crushing or dreary? Well, just mine then.

Tonight, we watch The Hobbit! Happy Friday!

Comic Book Review: Fullmetal Alchemist

Fullmetal Alchemist follows the Elric brothers, Edward and Alphonse, in their quest to regain their complete human bodies after a failed alchemical experiment. They had attempted to resurrect their dearly departed mother, and paid the price -- Ed lost his left leg, and Al lost his entire body. Since the core law of alchemy is "equal exchange," Ed sacrifices his right arm to transfer his little brother's soul into a suit of armor. The neighborhood granny takes them in, but word of the brothers' prodigious skill in alchemy has reached the military. The ambitious Col. Roy Mustang comes in person to recruit the boys, unaware of their condition. Meanwhile, a group of superhumans named after the seven deadly sins works secretly to incite bloodshed all over the country. So it begins...

For me, one of the bests part about this manga series is the perfect balance between action-packed confrontations and physical humor. You get everything that manga delivers: contorted limbs, tortured facial expressions, fangs, pools of blood, ridiculous fighting, and so on. The use of alchemy in the story requires suspension of disbelief, of course, but the writer uses the invented principles consistently and with a grounding in reality, which helps. For example, Ed has to fight Greed, whose body turns into impenetrable armor. But he makes the mistake of telling Ed that all superhumans have forms with the same elements as human bodies, which helps Ed realize that the "armor" is really just rearranged carbon. So the Fullmetal Alchemist transmutes a weapon to counter! Science! Or pseudo-science? You decide!

The characters are awesome. Edward starts out in the manga as a 15-year-old who hasn't hit his growth spurt yet, so he's under five feet tall. The military assigns him the title "Fullmetal" Alchemist (boring ol' "steel" in the original Japanese), but he's so tiny that everyone assumes the title goes to his brother Alphonse, whose armored body looms at almost seven feet tall. Ed also can't stand up to his childhood friend Winry, who often beats him up with a wrench. Then there's Major Alex Armstrong, a mustachioed muscleman who takes off his top at every opportunity while the panel sparkles with his manliness. And his beautiful yet terrifying sister, Major General Olivia Armstrong, gets sparkles, too, whenever she's threatening someone, which is pretty much every time she opens her mouth. The bad guys mostly play it straight, although one of them acts pretty goofy until readers figure out he's a villain. Then it's all murder-murder-kill-kill.

I was delighted to confirm my suspicion that a woman wrote Fullmetal Alchemist. I got the idea when Ed swears to beat up a thief, and when Al points out that she's a girl, Ed shouts, "Equality of the sexes!" Another clue: the best villain (IMO) is Lust, who remains calm and efficient when instigating violence and finishing off loose ends. Meanwhile, the best supporting character is either Lt. Lisa Hawkeye, a super-competent sniper, or Major-Gen. Olivia Armstrong, who keeps readers guessing about her true motives. Male mangaka (comic artists) usually underdevelop female characters' personalities and overdevelop their boobs. Tite Kubo of Bleach, I'm staring straight at you! Stop attaching Momo and Rangiku to their men! Geez!

I thoroughly enjoyed the manga. It read like a video game I would totally play. Hiromu Arakawa-sensei did a great job. I probably won't check out the anime, although I might YouTube some of the key scenes, like when Hawkeye gets her throat slit (spoiler: she gets better!) and Mustang cradles her in his arms and it's so romantic because they care about each other sooooo much. Anyway, at 27 volumes and four chapters per volume, it's maybe an 8-10 hour read. If you like manga, check it out!

Oh, and TGIF!

"Come with Me if You Want to Live...On the Edge."

Hello and happy Friday. Let's get down to business.

In the event of a zombie apocalypse or some other civilization-ending catastrophe, you'll want to surround yourself with people who regularly demonstrate competence. Emotional and mental stability would be a happy bonus, but that usually goes out the window once people start losing loved ones. Ideally, you'd find the right individuals to form the traditional five-member team capable of surviving the odds: the leader, the lancer, the big guy, the smart guy, and the chick.

Let's look at the pros and cons of having me in every position.

The Leader
When I feel like it, I can be charismatic, level-headed, and capable of making decisions based on ruthless reason. I am also very nosy, which allows me to understand the strengths and weaknesses of my fellow survivors, meaning I can deploy you to perform the task that probably won't kill you. I can strike heroic poses at the drop of a hat. Finally, I have no problem being bossy.

The Lancer
I could be your second-in-command, if you are somehow  more awesome than me. I will keep the rest of the group in line, hold your secrets close, and I've got your back no matter what. I'm a Leo born in the year of the dog, so you know I'm super loyal. My sarcasm and snark are second to none, making me ideal for this role.

The Big Guy
My sisters call me "Amazona," because I am oddly strong for my size. While working at a non-profit, I often upended five-gallon jugs of water into the office cooler. I go to the gym and lift weights. Give me a baseball bat, shovel, or other object to swing at the hips with, and nothing will stand in our group's way. I get tired easily, though, so you will need to feed me more than the other members of the group.

The Smart Guy
I was summa cum laude at Middlebury and I got my M.A. from The Big H. Those zombies are dead if there's ever a standardized test competition or if we have to be graded on an essay about Japanese war reparations. I mean, the zombies will be more dead.

The Chick
Yes, I am.

Now that I've buttered you up with my superior qualifications, I'd like to insert some caveats in our survival plan. First, I will always insist on bringing Sheba. She's only six pounds, and no, she is not an emergency snack. I will refuse to eat her, and likely kill anyone who tries to do so. Second, Sheba is really loud. She will attract zombies, monsters, aliens, and even sentient plant life with her plaintive wailing. Again, any threats to her life will be met with extreme violence. Third, Sheba could probably end someone's life with her toxic poop. I recommend that the group not eat her poop, if we're reduced to eating that.

Why bring the loud, smelly, inadvertently homicidal cat?, you ask. Because while we run, Sheba will serve as the constant reminder of our collapsed civilization. As we hide, shaking in fear, from the zombie horde that shambles past, her muffled meows will call out to the gentleness of our souls. In quiet days, we can all take turns petting her as we talk wistfully about all the ones we've lost. And as we bloody our hands in our fight to survive another day, her terrified cries will inspire us to fight harder to keep her safe. In other words, Sheba will be our rock. Our tiny, soft, adorable rock.

Sheba, the Rock.

I'm glad we had this talk. If there's one thing I'd like you to take away from it, it's that the cat comes with me. Even in a zombie apocalypse. Good day, madam, I said good day!

My First World Problems, Let Me Share Them

Everyone in this great country has problems, and usually a bitch is one. But since I'm a bitch ("A little bitch," assured an ex), I have other issues. Namely, these:

1. Guys who spend endless minutes finding the perfect weight-lifting song on their iPhones.

Not only am I surrounded by enormous sweaty sausages at the gym (down, gays!), they have the gall to sit at the space, legs splayed apart like they have hernia, and go through their entire playlist before picking just the right Taylor Swift song to pump iron to. How do I know the artist? Because it's blasted through their earphones so loud I can hear it over the gym speakers.

Side story: Tonight, Husband-elect approached me after I secured a spot at the rowing machine, and I swept my arm grandly at our surroundings. "Behold," I proclaimed, "sausages!" Husband-elect smiled comfortingly and said, "Don't worry, I'm here," then thought about that for a bit before saying, "...to add to them." He then walked off briskly.

Guys: make your playlist before you hit the gym. Save time, and reduce the chances of my accidentally flinging a 10-lb weight at your knee!

2. Genetics

I scrub my face with exfoliant face wash, dab on astringent, and then slather on night lotion, whereas Husband-elect will go straight to bed after a day of sweating over manly engineer model things. Yet his face remains blemish-free, while I look like a pizza-faced teenager. Why? Whyyyyyy? Science, you have failed me!!!

3. Chips

Why are they so delicious when they're so awful for you? Technology, this is your fault!!!

4. Office Internet Filters

My office network immediately cockblocks all my attempts to watch kittens, puppies, and other wholesome streaming media. I can't even listen to internet radio! Although, this may not be an entirely bad thing, since I suck at muffling my laughter. I watched Obama's Anger Translator Respond to Clint Eastwood one time on my phone and everyone avoided me for fear of being fired by association. So okay, given the stuff I tend to watch online, I guess this one is more of a plus than a minus.

5. Super Expensive Cat Food

An 8-lb bag of special good-for-the-kidneys bag of kitty kibble costs over 50 bucks. That's more than P2,000 for my darling Filipino readers. And wouldn't you know it, both cats love K/D so much that they gobble it all down in a couple of weeks. Sure, they're seniors and need better food and care. But wow are they spoiled.

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There you have it. Wahhh, my life is sewwww hard.

Now get out of here! It's Friday! We're watching Skyfall tonight! Wooo!

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Could someone please remind me to write my review of Snow Crash? kthxbai

Game Review: The Last Story (Wii)

The Last Story has a terrific soundtrack, boring characters, fun gameplay, and a derivative story. A veteran JRPGer can breeze through this game in under 24 hours, maybe with some reloading of saves due to a surprise learning curve during boss fights, especially toward the end. Overall, this game disappointed me.

As background, The Last Story mainly takes place on Lazulis Island, known as a shield for the Empire because of its Lazulis Cannon. You know what they say: the best defense is a gigantic high-tech cannon! Your player, Zael, and his fellow mercenaries have been hired by Count Arganan, ruler of the island, to investigate a cave and wipe out lizard-people in the process. The leader of the group, Dagran, takes the job hoping to gain the Count’s approval and eventually have everyone raised as knights. Meanwhile, Zael flips out in the cave and receives a mark on his hand that attracts enemies and also heals downed allies. Later, he meets a mysterious girl hiding in a cart, falls for her, then finds out she’s the Count’s niece. Let the adventures begin!

The excruciating predictability of the plot appalled me. The stereotypical characters and their cliched speeches added to the pain. I called out every single story development, with one exception: one guy I expected to fight just croaked. Oh, well! Everything else telegraphed itself -- the villain monologues about awful humans, the hero speeches about just wanting peace, the identity of the real Big Bad, the noblewoman getting kidnapped, and so on.

I understand that taking elements from tried-and-true games and adding a unique twist to them can help create a masterpiece. The Last Story is not a masterpiece. Look, if you want a JRPG where...

...the villain is a large humanoid monster and you fight him in a place with a dramatic reflective surface -- play Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword.

...the decline of nature serves as a major theme -- play Secret of Mana.

...the princess can actually fight well beside you -- play Chrono Trigger.

...you run around in dungeons wearing scandalous and impractical battle outfits -- play Vagrant Story.

...the main character is a pretty, androgynous young man -- play any Final Fantasy game from VII onward. XIII counts because Lightning is super manly.

...the reveal of the true antagonist genuinely surprises and has emotional impact -- play Ys Seven.

...your mind gets blown by the sheer epic scale of it all -- play Xenoblade Chronicles.

You get the idea. All the games listed above are superior to The Last Story.

That said, I did enjoy the gameplay. Highlights include the easy sidequests and the combat system. For example, I love that Zael can duck behind things and unleash a powerful slash at unsuspecting foes. Also, being able to  issue commands to allies, and diffuse spell circles, in the heat of battle saved my neck plenty of times. Sometimes the battlefield blazes up in all sorts of colors because of the spells flying around, obscuring everyone else, but running away from the action usually works in those instances. I’m a fan of the level up visuals, as well.

The Last Story takes place in a contained world that boasts the best graphics the Wii can offer. Lazulis Town offers fun exploration time, thanks to the mini-map and the rewards waiting for curious players. As for the Arena, it’s a good place to get some EXP and cash. To upgrade to the truly beastly weapons, you need rare items, which can be acquired in dungeons and the debris floating around town, if you’re fast enough. The color palette in the dungeons can get dark, so I compensated by having all my characters wear the same shade of hot pink.

The only other quibble I have with the graphics has to do with the scripts for Zael’s and Calista’s movements -- 1) why does Calista always have her arms in an “X” over her chest, which makes her look like a vampire with a muscle condition, and 2) why does Zael walk like an exhausted penguin?

Anyway.

Finally, the soundtrack by Nobuo Uematsu rocks. All the scores play in the background as a complement to whatever happens on screen. My copy of the game came with a bonus CD, featuring the tracks “toberu mono” (Things that Fly), “shikoshima kedamono” (Wicked Beast), “kizuna” (Bonds), “machi no onshoku” (The Timbre of the Town), “yorokobi no koe ga kikoeru” (I Can Hear Happy Voices), “chitsujo to konton to” (Order and Chaos), and the main theme. I especially like “machi no onshoku,” which uses wind instruments and the harp to convey a wary peacefulness, as though something dark lurked beneath the surface of the everyday.

I recommend this game for newcomers to the genre. Look elsewhere if you’re an experienced JRPGer. The lame plot will have you pulling out your hair, as your mind fondly wanders back to the time when you played the classics -- Chrono Trigger, Tales of Phantasia, Breath of Fire II, Legend of Legaia, Xenogears -- and the story elements were new and exciting. You may also be unable to restrain yourself when a certain nobleman appears onscreen and reminds you very strongly of a psycho in FFVI. He’s got the perfect theme music, though. Again, props to Uematsu-sensei.

Bottom line: A light snack of a JRPG. May satisfy some.

Book Review: Quicksilver (2003)

Sword-fighting author Neal Stephenson was in the middle of writing the amazing Cryptonomicon when he read George Dyson's Darwin Amongst the Machines: The Evolution of Global Intelligence, which planted a seed that would  become his massive, sprawling Baroque Cycle trilogy. The first volume, Quicksilver, sets the stage for the series by including all the essentials of a Stephenson novel: nerd protagonist, irreverent macho protagonist, insanely competent female protagonist, mind-bending narrative structure that presents vast amounts of information in new and interesting ways, and of course, cryptography. Rabid fans will savor each and every one of the novel's 900+ pages. Delighted readers like myself will occasionally skim over descriptive paragraphs whilst maintaining our happiness level.

Quicksilver begins right here in Boston, in the 18th century. Mysterious old man Enoch the Red, also in Cryptonomicon, finds Dr. Daniel Waterhouse in Cambridge trying to establish MIT, basically. Enoch persuades the English scientist to return home, and Daniel boards the ship, then takes readers to a flashback that lasts a few hundred pages. In between, Enoch remembers meeting a very young Isaac Newton; Daniel proves useful during a multi-pirate attack, and we see the 17th century Royal Society in its rigorous pursuit of knowledge. Since this is Ye Olde Days, we get descriptions of a live dog having its thorax removed so the men could tinker with its lungs. Arrrrgh. The first part of Quicksilver centers on Daniel's religious and personal development while pursuing his studies in Trinity College in Cambridge (UK, not MA). Since this is historical fiction, prominent nerds natural philosophers join the action: Newton, Robert Hooke, Gottfried Liebniz, etc. Stephenson's writing of these men's interactions features crackling dialogue, wry humor, droll witticisms, and other stylistic flourishes. Not fun: being reminded that doctors used to bleed people to balance their "humours." Double arrrrgh.

The next part of the book amps up the action with a new pair of characters: crafty Jack Shaftoe, King of Vagabonds, and spirited Eliza, a former slave (eventually) turned stockbroker/Countess. The pair travel all over: Leipzig, Bohemia, Marseilles, Amsterdam, Disneyland. Just kidding on the last one. With these characters, Stephenson illustrates the resourcefulness of people born without titles or means, in a world order that's constantly shifting to accommodate new trends and wars and monarchs and diseases. Jack survives for so long through sheer grit and luck, and so does Eliza, to an extent, although she has the added bonus of being literate, multilingual, and mathematically gifted. Eliza and Daniel cross paths in the third part of the book, which marches toward the conclusion of what Daniel considers as his life's work: revolution! Hence his relocation across the ocean.

I enjoyed this novel as a history buff, a nerd, a bookworm, and a woman in a binder. The novel drew me into its e-pages. I harrumphed at the workings of Louis XIV's court; cackled at the depths of Eliza's cover-ups; rooted for Jack and Daniel; and ooh-la-la'd at all the raunchy bits. I still can't wrap my head around all the information that Stephenson wrestles into an entertaining and informative yarn about a group of exceptional people living in extraordinary times. Some of those people are even real!

I'm looking forward to picking up The Confusion, the second book in the trilogy. But I thought I'd do a little light reading in between, and settled on Snow Crash, which has 7,598 locations on my Kindle. By contrast, Quicksilver has 17,663, and The Confusion  has 15,041. My Lasik eyes have been enchanted with the screen resolution of the Kindle app on the iPhone 5, but it's good to take a break now and then, yes?

In other news: my copy of the Wii game, The Last Story, arrives today! Amazon Prime: f*ck yeah.

Rey P.

There's a joke back home that goes something like this: A guy reports that he's been sexually assaulted, when all he did was answer a question. "Well, what was the question?" They wanted to know his name, said the guy. "Okay, what's your name?" His name is Rey Piñoco. In Tagalog, that sounds like "Rape me."

Hur hur hur.

Missouri Congressman Todd Akin got into trouble with malapropism, too. "It seems to me, from what I understand from doctors... If it's a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down," he recently declared, when asked about his stance on abortion in the case of rape. In other words, Ten Things I Hate About You actress Gabrielle Union had no reason to be concerned about possibly getting pregnant after being assaulted at gunpoint when she was 19. Because her Vagilina Jolie can "shut that whole thing down." Also: "legitimate rape"? I guess that's the opposite of "illegitimate rape," which is rape born out of wedlock and can't get an inheritance. For a humorous twist on other horrific--but legitimate!--things and the non-victims that can shut 'em down, see the From Talking to Doctors Tumblr.

Everyone and their mother's dog jumped all over Akin, who by the way is running for senator and is a member of the House Science and Technology Committee. Our very own Governor Scott Brown, himself a childhood victim of abuse, was the first Republican Senator to call on Akin to stop his campaign for Senate. True to form, hardcore conservatives rallied around their besieged hero, touting his "Christian values." I will now stop here before I have an embolism.

Of course, the media will let us know how this story develops. Will Akin step down from the race? Will there be a glorious future where no one says stuff like what Akin said, because we're all going to be mutually respectful, reasonable, and/or educated?

Hur hur hur?

My Inadequacy is Overwhelming

My boss' boss brought his two little sons to work, and after the mandatory "Oh, new interns!" jokes subsided, the older boy (who was clutching a hardcover copy of Quantum) solemnly told us about his blog and handed out his business cards. He's a tutor. He's 10. His blog is about quantum physics. I read it and cried giant woman tears of inadequacy. You, too, may read it and weep! theoriesofquantum.blogspot.com

"First World Problems" meme from quickmeme.com.
Workaround for saving the file from this tumblr site.

With that, I bid you Happy Friday!

Flocculation Friday

I liked Pliny best, although Heady Topper was good out of the can.

You know you're in a room full of nerds when a west coast vs east coast IPA stand-off includes a demonstration and lecture about yeast flocculation. We had an Englishman present during the libations, leading to jokes about how the Brits flocculate when abroad.

Last night's beer-tasting played out like the last panel of The Oatmeal's comic about extremism. We didn't talk about outer space while drinking microbrews, though--we mostly joked around and ended the night watching YouTube videos.

Of course, we had to tell The Engagement Adventure, which will be up in comic form next week! (Check back here for links, or stalk my work at fragrantelephant.com.)

Know what else is undergoing flocculation right now? The subcutaneous fat in my abdominal region. Just kidding! In biology, that actually means the asexual aggregation of microorganisms. I have no idea what that means. I just wanted to sound smart.

So in conclusion: flocculation.

Happy Friday!

Does This Country Make Me Look Fat?

"There are a lot of fat people here," I whispered to Boyfriend as we walked out of the Gillette Stadium after a soccer game last week. "This is America," he replied. 

In the following days, tourists swarmed Boston for the 4th of July celebrations, and I saw parents who looked like they'd eaten their children, and children who looked like they ate their parents. One guy's shirt buttons in the gut area had fled from sheer terror. It was madness!

Know what else is crazy? Here are the Center for Disease Control (CDC) statistics from 2008:

Now, because I live in Boston, whose population typically looks like this--

--I'm used to seeing people whose body types range from skinny to svelte to fill-me-with-raging-jealousy. According to research done by the Pew-Pew-Pew Center for Fragrant Elephants, trust-fund hipsters and students have between them an average body mass index of 18, yuppies generally land around the 21-22 mark, and retirees are notorious for being obnoxiously fit due to playing tennis and/or jet-setting around the world during the miserable winter months.

During the tourist rampage, I was so mesmerized by the all the rolls of visceral and subcutaneous fat on display that I forgot to be smug about being thin (by comparison). Then two days ago, I went on the weighing scale and felt my world collapse into a bleak, howling wilderness of misery. I had gained weight after two months of sitting on my bum playing Xenoblade! NOOOOOO!!!  

Naturally, I consoled myself by going to two barbecues and despondently eating my feelings, which took on the form of pork chops, bratwursts, cheddar hot dogs, couscous salad, chips, carrot sticks, and hummus. To wash it all down, I chugged beers, sangria, and champagne.

Then I resolved to become a better person: sleek and lean, with a side order of sexy. But how?

My previous go-to tactic of running like I'm chasing a shirtless Luke Evans carrying an avocado shake was obviously insufficient. I took to the internet and found this JCD Fitness post that had reasonable, easy-to-digest tips on how to build lean muscle. See, muscle burns more calories, even when at rest. Cardio activities only burn fat. So I have to build! Here's the plan: hit the gym every weekday and work out the target areas. Since my torso currently looks like a water balloon, that gets 3x/week attention. My Amazonian arms will be targeted twice a week, and I'll switch that up with my thunder thighs. Boyfriend and I will do laps in the community pee-spot pool on Saturdays, and rest on Sundays.

Of course, we'll also eat right: good protein, lots of fruits and veggies, and healthy fat.

It will take years of discipline and grueling work, but one day you will see me on the street and say to yourself, "That girl has a fantastic physique, I simply must be her friend, she is obviously a charming and elegant human being."

This I swear, by the Power of Grayskull!

Happy Friday!

Game Review/Nerd Alert: Xenoblade Gushing (Wii)

Xenoblade Chronicles is the greatest game I've played since Chrono Trigger. It's got four main things going for it: (one!) an expansive, beautiful world; (two!) epic music; (three!) a mind-blowing story; and (four!) compelling characters.

Let's start with one:

"You and me can totally take that giant in the sky. Whaddya say?" 

The game has about a dozen locations, with plenty of standouts like Gaur Plain (pictured above), Makna Forest, Eryth Sea, and Satorl Marsh. The developers weave these impressive locations into the gameplay, and reward observant players who like to wander off the beaten path. I happily explored everywhere, and in this way, accidentally stumbled upon secret areas that would later become crucial to sidequests.

The amazing music sets the mood as you move through the world of Xenoblade. For example, Gaur Plain has a rhythmic, toe-tapping number to accompany your characters' free ranging. At night, ether adds an ethereal glow to the otherwise icky Satorl Marsh, and the music shifts to a choir-and-keyboard arrangement that floats as gently as the marsh lights. Eryth Sea, home to the isolated High Entia race, has a melancholy sound. When it comes to boss battles, there's a piece called "You Will Know Our Names" that captures the fury and defiance of the characters, in their initial encounter against an unbeatable foe. In every instance, the music is in step with what's happening on the screen.

Xenoblade starts off with an epic story -- two gods, the Bionis and the Mechonis (whose silhouette is seen in the picture above), battled, and eventually, each struck blows against the other that froze both titans into place. Then on the bodies of both gods sprang the races: the Bionis gave birth to pioneering Homs (humans), entrepreneurial Nopon (fluffy balls with legs), and the aloof High Entia (angels, except their wings grow out of their heads).  At the game's start, players are introduced to the Mechonis species: the Mechon, soulless machines intent on eliminating all life on Bionis.

To the experienced RPG gamer, this is all pretty cliché -- e.g. the Bionis vs. Mechonis is clearly an allegory for humanity's anxiety over technological advances -- but the plot later develops genuinely surprising twists. For instance, what starts out as a roaring rampage of revenge -- humans swearing to smash the machines that destroyed their loved ones and homes -- becomes a realization of the fundamental similarities between biological life and mechanical beings. Another example would be the shocking link between genetics and divine will.

I haven't finished the game, and I'll write up a review on GameFAQs with more about this, but I'm at the point where my characters have journeyed all the way to the body of the sleeping Mechonis, only to find out that the Bionis, their creator, views them simply as an energy source and is intent on wiping them out. Take note that the two gods are basically planets, and the Bionis had just destroyed the Mechonis, so if we destroy our planet who wants to kill us, where do we live? Um. Paging SpaceX, paging SpaceX, please report to your nearest titan at your earliest convenience.

Sharla, the undisputed leader
of the Crushing Boobs team.

Which brings us to awesome factor number four: the characters. To the developers' credit, I care about my characters because it's so much fun to mix-and-match dream teams with varying strengths (e.g. I have a Crushing Boobs team, a Sausage Tank team, a Cuteness Overload team, a One-Hit Kill team, etc.), and also because of their engaging stories and backgrounds. There are tons of hints that some of your characters aren't really what they seem. The main character, Shulk, is orphaned when his parents died in an altar to the Bionis' sword -- how did he survive? Melia, the half-human, uptight crown princess of the High Entia, is informed by a machine that her "80% Homs gene integration" is a very good thing. What does that mean? Why does rejected J-Pop band member Alvis seem to be helping us, but not really? 

Well, I have an answer to one question above, at least. I'm 116 hours into this game, and I'm having a blast. I can't wait for the conclusion, since I hear the ending is super fabulous, but I'm also content to keep exploring, fighting, discovering, hunting, having mini-heart attacks during cut scenes, and squealing during the sweet heart-to-heart character conversations. And maybe, just maybe, I'll play the game again and take note of the egregious license they took with the translation. Like, "Konna ni samui no wa hajimete da!" which I'd have translated to, "I've never been anywhere this cold before!" Instead, MonolithSoft went with, "I could really go for one of Dickson's homebrews right now!" It conveys the same point: it's butt-cold, but the resulting characterization becomes different. See? See? Also, why are my characters not yet gay despite my best efforts? MOAR GAY.

To end on a silly note, here are tributes to my favorite Xenoblade characters:

DUNBAN

MELIA

RIKI

SHULK

Happy Friday!!!

Movie Review: Prometheus (2012)

Prometheus is a great yarn. If you haven't seen the trailers, the story goes: scientists discover ancient cave paintings that point to a location in space. They convince a corporation to fund their mission to go there, and off they go on their merry way. And then [REDACTED]

Spoiler jokes aside, here are what make this film epic: the amazing CG (we watched it in 3D), the tensions between the crew of the Prometheus, and the horrific discovery(ies) that lie in wait. Dun dun DUNNN! The characters who matter were well developed. In particular, the character played by Michael Fassbender, my secret lover (so secret he has no idea), stayed on my mind throughout the elephant car ride home.

I think the best thing about Prometheus is the questions it raises. What would you ask your creator? How far would you go to get those answers? And most importantly, what is this wiggly black stuff and is it a new and interesting way to die?

Yes. Yes, it is. Go see it. It's worth it. 

Boston Fog!

To think we were worrying about needing rain just a month ago. The New England spring descended soon after Boyfriend proclaimed that we've only had 9% of the rainfall we had last year, because nature hates statistics, apparently. Nature also overachieves, at least around these parts. Not only did we get continuous rain, we also had some terrific fog. Check out this baby from last week:

And here's that same area, today:

Yeahhhh sunshine! Uh, and please ignore my finger on the upper left. kthxbai

Happy Friday! I've got a white sangria with my name on it. What about you?

Seek and I Shall Whine

Looking for comics? Go here!

Alas, the spirit did not move me to blog this week because...I wrote a short story! Insert sparkles here. Or I should say, I wrote another short story, but that first attempt was so weird that I am confident it will explode as soon as an editor lays eyes on it.

Anyway, I sent my manuscript to Boyfriend, who, full disclosure, is ferociously intelligent and not at all shy about ripping anything idiotic to shreds. Will I have the graciousness to accept constructive criticism? Stay tuned!

The best part about finishing the story was doing a Google search for literary agents, and coming up with the true, magnificent events of 2005, when a group of sci-fi writers created the worst book ever, called Atlanta Nights, under the pen name Travis Tea (say it fast). They were out to get a deceitful publisher, PublishAmerica, which purported to be a real publisher but actually did POD (publish-on-demand, meaning their writers' works didn't make it to bookstore shelves). Read about it here.

An excerpt from their fake opus: Mmm-hmm. Come and get this big Afros and indescribably tender. His hands moved surely.  Recover for a mess.  She'd have noticed if it had so impetuously across the pelting Georgia Girl Grill. This came from a chapter generated entirely by computer. Nice.

The result: PublishAmerica sent an acceptance letter for the horrendous manuscript, proving that they didn't even bother to read the stinker! Hoist by their own petard! By the way, their website made my good taste cry. Yes, they're still in business!

Dear readers, I got my grubby paws on a full copy of Atlanta Nights, and ohmyLord, I had to stop reading because I was getting eye strain from the awfulness. But I shall slog through it, because I have the sinking feeling that my own work will mirror a lot of the deliberately horrible writing in here. The best potholes are the ones you can see because you chucked in some flares beforehand, amirite?

And so, in conclusion: happy Friday!

Book Review: The Demon-Haunted World (1995)

Astrophysicist Carl Sagan wrote this book before he died of pneumonia in '96, after a long struggle against myelodysplasia. Sagan is credited with popularizing science -- remember Contact, the 1997 film starring Jodie Foster and Matthew McConaughey? That was based on a 1985 novel written by Sagan. He's a cool nerd.

The Demon-Haunted World reminds readers of the hysterics our species is capable of when we're not using our critical thinking skillz. Sagan writes about UFO mania (X-Files wooo!), faith healing, witch hunts, and about this one guy who claimed to channel a thousand-year-old spirit and was a sensation in Australia -- and then he admitted he had made it all up -- and then people wrote to him saying, "We believe in you." LOL

This book comes before our internet age, so I find it a little quaint, especially since he advocates making information readily available and I just used Wikipedia about ten times to write the first paragraph of this post. But of course, the point is not just to regurgitate facts -- Sagan earnestly believed that human societies have to promote science learning to improve the human condition, and science learning means questioning everything. Be skeptical!, he urges readers. Think it through! But if even if you have all the evidence and you know you're right, don't be a jerk about it!

Sagan says: learn science (the earlier the better), or at least cultivate a scientific (read: evidence hoor) mind.

I have zero talent in anything above the science basics, which is a shame because otherwise I'd be a veterinarian right now and my real life-based cat comics would be supplemented with dog, hamster, fish, ferret, bird, and who-knows-what-else comics. I might even have drawn humorous strips of me learning the veterinary ropes on cows and horses and pigs and chickens. Or alligators? But, alas.

Where was I? Oh yes, The Demon-Haunted World. It's a good read because of its instructive examples, although he does go on for too long about alien abductions. Also, ironically--for all his arguments against the notion that science is too hard, Sagan completely lost me when he explained Maxwell's equations demonstrating the electromagnetic field. Heck, I would've skipped them even if the symbols had shown up correctly on my Kindle. SCIENCE IS HARD OKAY

But yes, science is a candle in the dark. The wax is solidified ethics, social responsibility, and moral decency;  the wick is intellectual curiosity and talent; and the flame is knowledge. 

Everything is better with sparkles. Just ask vampires.

(And Carl Sagan turns over in his grave...)

Happy Friday!

Buy my book!

Stunning fake book cover brought to you by Microsoft Word 2007 and Microsoft Paint!

Fake testimonials: "This book changed my life completely. Completely. I had no idea that literally spelling it out for my boyfriend would allow him a glimpse into my perspective. Thank you, Fragrant Elephant!" -Helvetica A. Impact "This how-to book should win a bunch of awards. As a relationship tool, Diagrams of Lurve™ is a triumph of visual reasoning and emotional intelligence." -Algernon Flowers "Este libro huele a miel." -Shakira "Meow." -Oscar

Happy Friday!

Things that are Wrong

#1: Yesterday's Wind

In hindsight, I should probably not have worn a swirly skirt and my "Best Kisser" underoos, because holy Lord that wind was out to get me. I stepped out with my co-workers for lunch and flashed the entire world as I crossed the bridge. I kid you not, the wind was a howler. Hats were flying through the air, babies were being ripped from their parents' arms, and I swear a cow blew past me.

Hilariously, the City of Boston claims, "Because of its moderate coastal weather systems, Boston is not known to suffer from particularly windy weather." Tell that to the countless umbrellas who have fallen in the fight against the Boston wind. May those brave warriors rest in peace.

#2: The Republican Primaries

JUST PICK ONE ALREADY GEEZ. Here, let me help you decide:

Candidate	(+)	(-)
Mitt Romney	Knows a thing or two about the economy	Openly a robot
Rick Santorum	Sincerely conservative	Looks like a potato
Newt Gingrich	Unassailable self-confidence	Looks like a fat potato
Ron Paul	Consistent	May have to be stapled to his chair

There. Now choose!

#3: The inspiration behind this comic

Happy Friday!

How to Tell the Seasons in Boston

Here's a handy guide:

TEAM	REGULAR SEASON	BEST ENJOYED...
Celtics (NBA)	November - April	During rainy and windy spring!
Red Sox (MLB)	April - October	During summers with a beer! Or ten!
Patriots (NFL)	September - February	During pretty fall!
Bruins (NHL)	October - April	During the frozen winter!

Feel free to correct me if I got it wrong up there!

News flash: Bostonians love them their sports.

Happy Friday!!!

I Love It Like Cake

You know that voyeuristic thrill of hearing about other people's outrageous/hilarious/horrifying stories? I have discovered the mother lode: Dear Prudence on slate.com. "Prudie" (real name Emily Yoffe) lends a sympathetic hand to genuinely distressing situations, like when someone asks for advice about difficult friends or relatives, and lambasts morons, like a man who complained that he married a hot but dumb woman, or the girl who wrote that she was mortified because her boyfriend heard her fart. Like, omg, I would totes skip town if that happened to me, omg.

Speaking of skipping town, here is The Real Story of Asian University for Women, Kamal Ahmad and Ashok Keshari, written by a former faculty member for the university in Bangladesh. I worked for the Support Foundation that she mentions in the post. I know I promised to write my side of the story, but kept getting sidetracked by pubescent humor and comics.

Happy Friday!

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Update, 03/05/2012: Prof Amber's blog post no longer exists. But here's How I Turned My Life Upside Down  to Move to Bangladesh and Became Embroiled in an International Fiasco.