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Pixie The Fairy avatar 11:55 AM on 07.17.2014
I live, as Basch fon Rosenburg of Dalmasca yet lives!

Bless me, Destructoid c-blogs, for I have been away. It has been three weeks since my last blog entry. I've been busy job-hunting, house/dogsitting and now I have a new job in the midst of all this that has been running me ragging with 10-hour days in the manufacturing side of a printing company. I do like the smell of fresh ink but the job is hell on the hands so I have to wait about 12 hours to recover before I can type coherently again.

Now I'm in the process of packing to go back to my rather internet-less apartment, provided my roommate hasn't nearly burnt down the complex again. He cooks while he drinks and tends to remember to refill on beer more often than check what he's cooking. Last week, he had a grease fire and dumped it on the entryway carpet rather than just cover the grease fire where it was. He does dumb shit like this all the time when it comes to his drinking, on top of being toxic toward me and neighbors when he's just a little too tipsy, so my landlords are using this and my re-employment as their ultimate excuse to get rid of him.



I'm just glad I took all my video games, most of my clothes and necessities with me. I may have gone from housesitting to living in a car

Oddly, i didn't really play anything while I've been away. Perhaps a little of the Tomodachi Life demo and more recently Kirby's Adventure and back to Strange Journey on my breaks at work, but there was practically two weeks of nothing aside from that. I guess I've just been starved for high-speed bandwidth. Soon I will once again have high-speed internet, more video games, stuff, things and a semi-burnt apartment to myself. 

God bless America. I will be living the dream.



The inside at work actually sounds like Trent Reznor is trying to kill an arcade. The printing goes to the steady beat of boots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pants

until eventually there's a bleep-bloop or what sounds like some kind of Game Over when the printing is done. Sometimes "Daytoooooonnaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa" sung in the background because my brain thinks there's a Daytona USA machine in there somewhere. I think that's just part of my mind coping with the lack of a beat at that point. I also occasionally think I hear Link collect a rupee.


What I actually do there is called both Punch-Out or Breakout. Again, this just sounds like video games but you're really punching things out of cardboard printouts. Yesterday my jobs was punching out little placards of insincere corporate buzzwords with stock photos of "diversity" for a bank. "Diversity" being those two mildly African or Asian-American women that are white enough for corporate baby boomers to still feel comfortable. I used to bank with that bank, "competent" was one of the buzzwords they chose for themselves... which I laughed at at first because incompetence was the reason I stopped banking with them. There was also this creepy stock photo of a dude smiling while shaking hands in a way that just no one would ever smile once they realized it made them look like Satan. 


Aside from that, I have to work with the weight of all the paper to rip the cutouts more easily. Pulling the cutouts produces what I have come to call the Cat of Over 9000 Papercut Tails because it is that dangerous. I am convinced it could cut through kevlar. Eventually, your knuckles hurt from playing this kind "breakout" all day and you come home to struggle with locking and unlocking your doors. 


So, Destructoid c-blogs, please keep this pixie's digits in your thoughts for they hurt and will be hurting for another ten hours soon. I hope I can get used to it to ensure the disposal of a drunken pyromaniac... and eventually buy more video games, leggings and stuff. 


Tomorrow, once my fingers have again recovered, I will probably blog a thing or get back into Strange Journey. For now, I have ten hours of boots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pantsboots'n'pants

to look forward to. Hopefully the guy with no regards to the rules will put on some music again after dinner break, though his love of the 80s really does reinforce the printing company sounding like an arcade.

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