I can't remember my friends names but I still remember the every move in any Street Fighter game, ever. I'm an absurdist existentialist with shades of zen taoism, but call me that and I'll deny it. I own a Wii, a DS and frequently partake of my friends other 360's and PS3's. Games are art. Games are new media that must be understood.
"Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke", Hagbard Celine.
This all started a few nights back while I was at work. It was getting late, I was tired, nothing much was happening and, as is usual under these circumstances, my mind began to wander. A co-worker (Ken-yes THE Ken) was out with me having a cigarette when something particular to our Fortitude Valley wandered by.
She was a squat homonculoid creature round as she was tall, marshmallow pale and of a similar consistency. She was crammed into a white tank top and black bike shorts, both of which must have been threaded with a cloth/adamantium blend because these things were under a stress that would break bridge cables. The result created a butt-crack that ran up between her shoulder blades. She looked like Jabbas half human child from his first marriage that he gets weekend visits with.
The "Oh dear god" topping on this "Jesus Christ (shudder)" cake was that she was wearing a light up pink sash that read "18 and Legal". Presumably because the novelty shop was out of the "Giving it away" ones.
So I turn to Ken and say, "Man that bitch is nothin' but Mushroom Cup".
I didn't know what I was saying as I said it but due to our shared love of Mario Kart an epiphany hit us and we suddenly knew.
Mushroom Cup, Flower Cup, Star Cup and Special Cup are how I rate attractiveness now with the various tracks adding a further level of nuance to it.