First Life Crisis, Second Life Action, Quarter Pound Mania

I will be starting 2009 with a new employer and a new residence. More details as those stories unfold.

In the meantime, to escape the messes in my current life, I downloaded Second Life. For those that don't know or were too lazy to click the link I just provided you bums, it's a virtual world with a real economy and property and activities and other things where you and your custom avatar can go buck wild (or buck serious as it were). I actually had never even heard of it until recently, mainly because I don't pay any attention to video games. But one night last week, the RoBeastress and I were watching MTV (I have no idea why) and the subject of the show was a kid who played music, but never performed in front of people. In front of real people, that is. You see, she performed at shows online, in the Second Life universe. This was fascinating to me.

So I downloaded the free software (there are also paid access levels if you want to dive in completely) and made my avatar: Slamdunk Jyraffe, a Dennis Rodman-looking rebel. I got some rad hightops, a mohawk, and a tattoo. I don't believe in reincarnation. Fortunately, I have Second Life to come back as a big-dicked basketball player.

Immediately overwhelmed by all the words and rules and options, I decided not take part in Second Life as a positive contributor to society. Instead, I would just walk around ignorantly and annoy people, just like real life. I tried to impress everyone by telling them I could slam dunk, and usually punctuated that statement with a leap, or "Bickety Bam!" It didn't take long before other characters started picking on me. The persecution went as far as being caged me while people took turns zapping me with lightning bolts. It was hilarious.

After a couple days, I found myself being banned from everywhere possible. Clothing stores, nude beaches, strip clubs (are you detecting a theme?) I did find several nice people along the way. One chick gave me a package of ridiculous gestures, which gave me the opportunity to further annoy people by dancing around to "Everybody Dance Now." Another girl gave me a little black penis which I was never able to figure out how to use. Somewhere along the line I found a box full of animals, which enabled me to attach a giantic red crab to my body and piss off anyone in a 30 foot radius. I was not allowed into the "crime zone," so I tried to steal a car in one of the normal parcels of land. I failed to be able to start the car, but I was able to "take" the car and put it in my inventory. With the car successfully in my inventory, I was then able to "wear" it. I attached the car to my pelvis, then changed my skin to red to match. I then made my way to the orgy room.

Already having been banned from the orgy room for walking around as the giant crab, I was relegated to hanging out in the alley next door. I was quickly propositioned and of course, I took the girl up on it. She led me around the corner, took off her virtual clothes, and then we started banging against a garbage can. She kept telling me to take the car off (something no girl has ever asked me in real life), but I was busy fumbling around with the Second Life screen capture function. Before I could get a snapshot, she took off.

This scene was too hilarious to pass up though. I started begging girls for sex, but who wants to have sex with Herbie the Love Bug? I started telling them that I was a really a famous Transformer. Girls like celebrity robots, right? I mean, I picked up the RoBeastress dressed as Voltron.

Well, lightning struck twice--I found a girl that was interested in me while dressed like a freak. She took her place against the garbage can, as I again started to recreate this autoerotic fantasy.

"Are you taking pictures?" she asked.

"Yes. Take your shirt off." I'm so smooth.

"Ok, that will be 50."

"Come on. I'll give you a car."

"What kind of car?"

"An awesome one, just take off your shirt." She did. "She" is probably a dude in real life anyway. I snap some more photos.

"100 for the pants." Bah. I don't have any money. We stopped and I gave her a copy of the car I was wearing. She or he clearly wasn't impressed. "I'm gonna go find a third..." was the last thing she said before disappearing and never coming back.

I spent a few minutes laying on my back in the alley thinking about what I just did, while the RoBeastress gave me dirty looks from the other side of the couch. I think she was secretly hoping someone else would hitch a ride on the clown nose express, but she'll never admit that.

It didn't happen, and I was getting bored of waiting for girls to volunteer to have their vulvas violated by a Volvo, so I went to a strip club. This was also boring. I logged off, accomplishing what for now may be the highlight of my Second Life.

Ok, so I promised you something about Quarter Pound Mania too, huh? I saw a commercial today for a bizarre documentary, filmed by Stacy Peralta (the former skateboarder who made Dogtown and Z-Boys) and I guess produced by Burger King. It's called Whopper Virgins. The documentary (commercial) is basically a Whopper vs. Big Mac taste test, but the twist is, the test subjects are people in remote areas of the world where fast food doesn't seem to exist. This, like sex in Second Life, is simultaneously sad and fascinating. I'm always curious about semi-scientific surveys, but I don't want these poor innocent people to be exposed to garbage food. I'd prefer them just to go out into the woods and take a bite out of a cow, and not worry about artificial additives. The "documentary" will be "released" later this week. I think. The dates on the website keep changing. So professional.

Merry December, sluts.