DDR, revived

I downloaded Stepmania, which is a PC version of Dance Dance Revolution. It's my new secret indulgence. The last time computer game I obsessed over was the Sims 2, and that was ages ago. I've always lusted after the DDR game. My first brush with DDR was back in the good old days of secondary school when I'd engage in harmless and fun post-school activity like chilling out at girl friends' houses. I remember sucking at the game, because I didn't realise you were supposed to hit the arrows when it coincided with the arrows on top: I always pushed the arrows just when they appeared on the bottom of the screen. I never played the game in an arcade, mainly because arcades harbour unsavoury company and partly because I don't want to subject myself to public humiliation.

Now, I am releasing my repressed inner ah lian via furious keyboard pounding, because I don't have a dance pad. There are several dance pads available, but most of them need a Playstation-to-USB converter - and that in itself might further complicate the compatibility problem. (Plus I am not supposed to be holing myself up in my dorm room stomping away at a brightly-coloured plastic mat.) Maybe I can try DIYing a dance pad. A word of caution, though. I don't think the Stepmania application itself will harm your computer, but since the songs come separate from the game, they might contain some malware. I've been going on a downloading rampage and my computer is infected with some spyware, so these damn splash screen adverts keep popping up. Oh, Firefox has stopped working after a half-hearted attempt to fix the issue too. I don't want to have to uninstall the game. I don't want to uninstall the game and realise that the computer is still fucked. That will piss me off big time.

By the way, I saw a gigantic 5kg bottle of Nutella today. It instantly reminded me of my Nutella-loving friends, one of whom who used to have Nutella spread between three to four slices of bread for breakfast on a daily basis. The bottle cost $69.90. Go wild, yo. I think by the time it is halfway finished, the oil would have separated from the spread and it'll look like gross greasy poo.

By the way, I have two opportunities to watch the US Open: the school is organising a trip there, and my brother-in-law has four tickets. I think at least one of you would be deadly envious that I get to go.

Sometimes when I'm bored I like to replay memories in my head, and more often than not I shudder and think to myself, "what the hell was I thinking" but I think (hope, and pray) that no lasting damage has been done. The months following my departure definitely had some good moments, but they're the sort that you experience once and leave the precious memory with grace and dignity, I guess.

What makes a writer's piece observation, satire or snark? Fine line to tread, yes?

Whew that was a fairly long and wordy post. I think I've spoilt you with too many pictures.