I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Gone with the Wind is one of the silliest movies of all time.
It's time to find a puppy. Seeking something local in the “poo” range, apparently. Which, from my understanding, is what every doggie does (that is, make doggie doo). Cockapoo? Peekapoo? Poopiepoo? It's enough to make you wanna Shitzu.
And with little fanfare, the DVD Deal Center relaunches.
There. I've said it.
So, I'm wiping up a small spill on my desk… and… there he is, smiling back at me. It's Jesus Christ. Either that, or the spirit of Charlie Brown? I'm officially freaked. Is Charles Schultz (or the bald Son of God) trying to send me a message?! Am I just projecting my own beliefs in a comic character (or hairless personal saviour) afterlife? Maybe it's really Telly Savalas? I'll never wash this piece of furniture again.
What is it about Halo that makes it so addictive? Myszka's been over here for the past thirteen hours and he can't seem to get past level #5,221 – or was that #32,298? Sure, I've played it a few times – and quite enjoyed myself when engaging the enemy. But is this networkable FPS that much different (or better) than all the other ones out there? Oh, he just ran into a floating First Aid kit – isn't that slightly dangerous to do?