Take it from Snee: Toys suck anyway

Alright, so I’m getting married this weekend. This means two things:

  1. There will be no writing from me next week because I’ll be in Bermuda.
  2. I’m going to write some crap about growing up, becoming a man, etc.

Interestingly enough, point number two seems to be a popular theme this week, as my old friend Charles Smith (an alias to be sure) has his own opinions about it in Whim this week.

Yep, it was about when I worried about having hemorrhoids on my honeymoon that I realized I’m acting more and more like a grown-up. So it’s time to put away childish things, or toys, and embrace the things of men.

Video games stay, though, because they’re not toys. They’re training files should the government ever require my services as a fighter pilot/secret agent/Italian stereotype that squashes pizza ingredients.

The Star Wars figures are just that: figures, as in they will one day be worth several figures and finance my retirement or crippling gambling addiction. They stay.

Everything else, though, is gone. Continue reading Take it from Snee: Toys suck anyway

Take it from Snee: Alabama is still trying to kill me

Once again, Alabama is trying to kill me.

I woke up at 4 am this morning to the soundtrack from Pearl Harbor. No, not Michael Bay’s crapwork of a film. I mean air raid sirens. I leapt out of bed and fumbled with the alarm clock for a little bit–at first, to mistakenly turn it off, and then to turn on the radio to find out what the hell was going on.

I couldn’t find the radio button, so I scrambled to the living room. On the way, I tripped over the vacuum cleaner, careening it into the cockatiel’s cage and freaking him out. For good measure, I also yelled out the cat’s name while stubbing my toe on the coffee table.

Continue reading Take it from Snee: Alabama is still trying to kill me