Salka

I hated Loom... It was an interesting concept, but I didn't enjoy the game at all. And everybody said it had great music... But only in the same way as my game could have great music if I used goddamn Tchaikovsky. On the other hand, I never played Loom when it was new, and it's always hard to play and enjoy games you've never played before, that are 15 years old...

Yeah, my brother's name is 'Finn', and he's pretty irritating, too.

Yeah? Who said my Mom was never... never... boffed... while playing GF, eh? You're crazy. You're... you're....

Okay, here's a thread where you can post pictures of the area you live, so other people can be jealous or laugh at you, whichever. I live in Waterford. Waterford is crap. Dunmore East is just outside Waterford City, and is that place with the nice blue water. And here is the most recent picture I could find of Waterford Quay; It hasn't changed much, but it is a lot less brown. And you see that bridge? It's called Timbertoes Bridge. Golden Gate, eat your heart out! Unfortunately, the old, funky, wooden bridge was torn down and replaced with a massive suspension bridge, and the train station has been moved a little and a road has been built over it, and a massive roundabout and a highway, and things like that. Here is a shopping guide, in case you ever want to go shopping here; Click to activate your Shopping Guide!!! That is where I live, or rather, just outside that area. Okay, your turn!

Interesting fact: I kicked a large block of metal three times last night, and now my toenail is going to fall off. Vote Mom!

She may be referring to this. Do you really want a God that still... sucks his thumb?! Wouldn't you rather the nice, warm, comforting, communist arms of my Mom? Your loss, you democratic bastards.

The man is crazy. I really liked that song from the 7th Guest... the one that played in the Credits. Haven't heard much from the Fat Man lately.

the Fat Man was a famous musician for games, back in the 80's, no? He did the music for 7th Guest.

Something you use to get leaves into a big pile.

That irritates me with different paths in a game, too. It's been a long time, but I think I liked the way the paths were done in Parasite Eve II, and Resident Evil: Nemesis. Maybe I'm thinking of Dino Crisis. Or maybe I hated that game. So long ago. IIRC, PE2 had different locations if you chose different paths, so the replay value was pretty damn good. Once again, I have no idea if I'm thinking of the right game.

This is the truth. Jake makes me think of Rakes. I can't help it. Every time I hear his name I think of a Rake. It's a good name though. Rake.

I completely Silent Hill 2 until I'd unlocked all the endings. Mind you, that was to try and make sense of just one ending. I was going to compile a list of all the clues from every ending and see if I could work it all out. I came up with a page of scribbles that went like this; Ending 1: Girl is somewhat Hell-Like. WTF? Ending 2: Girl definitely has some aura of Hell around her. Also; WTF? Ending 3: I think the girl is from Hell. And WTF? I prefer a definite ending to a game. I also hate optional characters, but that's another story. I like being able to take different paths in a game, like in Parasite Eve II (If I remember correctly, anyway), but overall I'd rather one ending.

And I could round up 5 short, hot women, too! Goddamn the Finnish Top 40!!!! I'm on Dial Up, so I'm not about to download a crap video for no reason. But if it's anything like I imagine it to be, then yes. That happens the whole time in the poop industry, not just in Europe.

Marek, your picture of Rubacava won't load for me. Or any of your other pictures. But maybe it's just me.

I got you a voucher for a Nipple Piercing at Claires. And then I put a deposit on a real nice coffin for you, for when you die of bloodloss, or when it gets infected. Since I feared to Image Search for a "Nipple Piercing Voucher", you're going to have to completely use your imagination here.

I think I have an auntie that lives there.

Nipples and Beards? This place is sexy.

Damn it, the force is strong in her. Well, I hope your nipples don't get... peprosy, which is a deadly infection that piercing get... I hope they don't get peprosy and fall off. *sniff*

I have some valid questions about nipple piercings; A) How do you breastfeed a baby? What if it swallows the piercing, or the milk comes out of three different holes in the nipple and the baby chokes to death on milk? Or maybe you only breastfeed the baby from one breast, but then one breast will constantly be bigger than the other. Maybe milk would constantly lea-- anyway, moving on, Does your nipple stay constantly erect, or how does that work? How do you wear a tight top without everybody wondering what the deal is with your weird, ring shaped nipple? C) Do you think that this cold might be a warning from the Gods not to get your nipple pierced? I wouldn't know because I'm athiest. But you never know.

As an interesting side note, my opinion on facial hair changed dramatically when we were in the Czech Republic and met a guy that Breda and I could only describe and "ruggedly, sexfully hot". We took a lot of pictures of him, but only on Breda's camera. I had a camera, but the batteries were empty. I tried to recharge them by building a recharging unit made out of recharging units and batteries, but since I left it charging in the hotel, it wasn't with me at the time. When we were in Paris, we met two Americans. These were the first Americans of a lot of Americans that we met on the European Tour. We met more Americans than we did French, Austrian, German or Czech people. At the time, we were visiting a fantastic gothic-style church up a big hill surrounded by the rest of Paris and some criminals. I don't know much about the Church because we were sidetracked by these Americans, but I do know that they were from Indiana and the first thing I said to them was, "Oh my god, I love that movie!" whereupon we hit it off because they were American and I was pretending to be stupid, too. Anyway, somewhere along the line, possibly because they were really hot, we decided to take pictures of them and compile a calendar. Since my camera batteries were dead, and I hadn't invented the battery recharger made of batteries and chargers yet, I don't have a calendar. But Breda does. The only thing she is missing is her 'January' page, which she was reserving for a picture of the Statue of David. Later in the tour, safely out of Paris alive, Breda and I were musing over an invention we'd found at a flea market; a portable Battery Charging Unit, that charges two batteries at a time and simultaneously requires two AA batteries to work. I guess you could use it to transfer the battery power from two batteries you didn't like, to your two favourite batteries, or whatever. "He'd make a wonderful calendar page," Sr. Maureen interrupted, pointing to a statue of Tycho Brahe, which is funny because I'm pretty sure the statue of Tycho Brahe should have been in Vienna, but at the same time we were most definitely in Prague. I exchanged glances with Breda. I found it a little creepy that she had told a 90-year-old Catholic Nun that she was compiling a calendar of sexy men that she was lusting after on her high school tour (or possibly, college tour if you are American). "It's a statue." I said, because I tend to think aloud. "It's not even naked. Ha ha! We should get a picture of the Statue of David for the Calendar!" I added, because I thought this sounded intelligent at the time. Breda shot me a funny look that I couldn't quite make out at the time, and Sr. Maureen didn't hear me properly because she is deaf in her right ear, and I was standing on her right side. So I said, slightly louder, "I hear they've been polishing him up." I thought for a second, and then squealed, "Polishing him up!!!" and snorted with laughter, nudging Sr. Maureen in the ribs as hard as I could. "Or perhaps you could get a picture of some of those gypsy ladies selling their wares!" Said Sr. Maureen, as she doubled up in pain. I didn't really know what to make of this because, although I guess the Gypsy Ladies were pretty hot as females go, I didn't think Sr. Maureen was a lesbian. Well, not openly, anyway. So I switched over to her left side and said, "Well, okay. Whatever floats your boat, sister!" because I figured that if she wanted to come out of the closet, I'd make it easy for her by overwhelming her with funky, new-age phrases and things like that. Only then I remembered that, even though 'sister' was a funky term that female friends use to address each other and try to sound cool at the same time, it was also her correct title. So I paused for a moment, and then said, "My bitch, yo!" I'd forgotten that she was actually deaf in both ears, so when she turned around to say, "What?" I had come up with a much wittier reply, which went along the lines of, "Let's ask them to hitch their skirts up! Or better still, let's find the statue of David and help them polish him up!!!" However, instead, I said, "What's that pain in my foot?" which was actually Breda stepping on my feet, and then she punched me hard, in the arm, and, because I was about to keep talking, she yelled, "Shut up!!!" and clapped her hands over my mouth and nose to stop me from breathing or talking. "I might get a picture of some of the architecture," said Sr. Maureen, who was also blind. "Do you want to come?" "I'd rather give the Statue of David a hand job!!!" Came my muffled scream from Breda’s arms, because she had me in a headlock and had stuffed her fist in my mouth. Anyway, after Sr Maureen wandered off, I asked Breda why she'd hit me and tried to suffocate me, and more importantly, did Sr. Maureen have some weird fetish with statues? Breda said that Sr. Maureen had been under the impression that she was making a calendar of European Culture. "You lied to her? And you hit me?" I asked, pretending to be hurt but not really succeeding because I had been distracted by a display of shiny crystals glued to other, shinier crystals in what I assume was an inane attempt to create some sort of a mega charger for batteries. "I didn't lie. She assumed I was, and I just let her believe it. Say, what's our Tour Guide called?" "I think his name is Razputin, but I like to call him Jack," I said, and I said Jack in a really bad french accent. "Jack," I repeated, cleverly. "He is ruggedly sexful." Breda said, stroking her chin and pretending she had a beard. She was gazing into space thoughtfully and stylishly, twisting imaginary hairs, one hand twitching over the camera. There was an uncomfortable silence while she waited for me to deliver some sort of a punch line or something. After a few moments, I stammered, “Calandar?” And then flinched because I thought she was going to hit me. I took many pictures of Jack. This is when my opinion on facial hair changed. Then, we taunted some Palace Guards. Although that may have been in a different country. I can't really remember, because all these European countries are full of strangers and foreigners just the same. I only remember France clearly, because I nearly died there, many times. That's why you should always make sure you have a good, reliable set of batteries in your camera when going on holiday.

Keen was on of the first games I got for the PC. Sadly, I only figured out how to get in to the secret level in Keen IV about two months ago. Yes, I have been trying for about 12 years... ...And come to think of it, I've forgotten. Didn't it have something to do with Monty Python? Jesus christ! I spent 12 years figuring it out and I've forgotten!

I just typed something really, really obscene, and then deleted it because, really; what kind of a lady would tell Stevan she's glad she knows how to turn him on? Pshcht. (P.S. I do not know what a Pshcht is).

I especially hate the new one, with the guy trying to make McDonalds out to be evil and the guy behind the camera constantly proving him wrong, and they both end up looking stupid.

Grim Fandango, yes. Awesome. But we all knew that already. Discworld Noir is pretty good, too. I found Crimson Skies in a bargain bin in Communicate Now the other day, too.

I posted this over at AG, but I thought that I'd post it here too because a lot of Mojo'ers mix their mojo here, and--- oh man, that was lame. Anyway. Yesterday I spoke to an american who'd never heard of the Irish Celebration day, Buidhean dár sluagh, which basically means 'Young and Old Alike'. It's a celebration of life in general, and a person recieves it at the age of one year, and again at the age of sixty. It's like an extra special birthday. It means that the old and young of Ireland are alike despite their age and things like this. It's celebrated with an extra big party. It works like this; If you're one year old you're given a pint of guinness, and if you're sixty you're given a pint of milk. It's kinda like saying, the young will one day be old, but the old are always young at heart. Although at the moment they're trying to make Guinness develop a 'Guinness Light' for babies, because often the kid gets a little drunk and might try to drink other peoples drinks. Once, recently, a baby had to go in to get it's stomach pumped. But it was a very small baby, it didn't look like a one year old, and it was practically smaller than the pint glass. So, It's such a normality for Ireland, I can't believe they hadn't heard of it. Which makes me think... what are the customs and traditions of your country? Tell them here.