Saturday, September 10, 2011

Post Breakup: Day 2






As opposed to spending the evening with my good friends whom care a great deal about me, I've decided that it was more important to hole up in my house, drink excessively, and experience mobs of people sapping up my cellphone's bandwidth, and ability to do such mundane things as make and receive calls.

You know, like an adult.

After temporarily abating my new-found fear of the interwebs with booze, I've come up with today's running tally of my stats. Perhaps the increase in strength will pay off in tomorrow's P.T. session at drill.

Strength:       3
Dexterity:      0
Constitution: -2
Intelligence:  -2
Wisdom:      -2
Charisma:     1

Friday, September 9, 2011

Post Breakup: Day 1


The first day after the breakup of any significant relationship essentially reduces all of your "stats" to zero. (For reference as to what I'm referring to, see here:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Editions_of_Dungeons_%26_Dragons#Advanced_Dungeons_.26_Dragons ) It's a harrowing, soul-crushing experience, weather you were the instigator, or recipient, and regardless of you being "right" or "wrong" in your actions. Even if it's actually for the best, it never feels as if it is, and at the end of the day, you've both lost the person you love. It renders you as effective as a newborn infant. (To see just how useful that is, check here: http://www.onion.demon.co.uk/theonion/other/babies/stupidbabies.htm )

From day one, you begin to slowly rebuild your statistics, a metaphysical representation of your own ego and perceived usefulness in the known universe. These are, in general, accomplished by the completion of mundane adult tasks, that now become arduous and impossible because every little scent, color, or small, perky fold in the sheets somehow reminds you of your former lover. Even simply putting on boxers can become challenging "Ahh, boxers. I remember once how she told me she prefers I wear them..." Often times this is accomplished by pretending to everyone around you that you're some sort of stalwart rebound sex-robot, with booze for blood and none of those pesky regrets for your obviously correct and necessary decision. This is good, because if they actually lift up the curtain to see the vulnerable, terrified, and still hopelessly love-stricken loser you actually are, they're sure to mock you. (As well they should, pussy.)

For SCIENCE! I will be logging my progress in such activities, and will keep a running tally of my player statistics from today until this segment is no longer amusing to me.


Strength:         0
Dexterity:        0
Constitution:  -2
Wisdom:         1
Intelligence:     0
Charisma:       1