johnrobe

I love Craigslist. It's so simple and meets so many basic needs. At its heart, it's about putting buyers and sellers together, but it has grown to something beyond that. Whether it's goods or services or just people wanting to meet each other, Craigslist specializes in finding the people who are the best fit for the situation in as low an overhead way as possible.

And yet, there are limits, or there should be.

Take this case, a person who is selling, and I am not making this up, a "beautiful pink "vagina couch" that I made in art school and no longer have space for".

Hey, it looks like a well-made couch, and it's certainly a conversation piece, but for some reason although I am moderately icked out at the thought of sitting on a "vagina couch", I am TOTALLY icked out at the thought of sitting on a second-hand "vagina couch".

I'm not sure … does that make me a furniture snob or a prude? Hmm.

These Facebook events seem to be straining the definition of popular.

Come on people, hug a Jew!

I used to think that my friend Andrew throwing out his back while spinning the channel dial on an old TV set was the lamest injury ever, but today, I surpassed it.

While looking at, and trying out, old-man recliners at Leon's, I hurt my knee while trying to get a chair back into the upright position. Pretty sure that's the least athletic injury ever. If any of you are called as a reference by a sports medicine clinic, tell them it was a zero G football accident.

Last year I went golfing for the first time in 20 years as part of an elaborate ruse to get my friend out of the house so his wife could arrange a surprise party.

The results were humourous. Turns out my 20 years of non-golfing did not improve what was already a horrible golf game.

Fast forward to last Monday night, when I went to my first golf lesson, received as a gift from my wonderful wife. It was a beginner class, with only five people. I was quite worried that the other people would be too good and intimidate me, but fortunately, they weren't holding back on the definition of beginner in this class. I think a couple of them were unsure which end of the club to hold.

The first lesson was actually very helpful. We spent the lesson chipping, which was pretty much the only part of my game that wasn't a comical disaster, yet I learned enough that I would bet my chipping is at least five times better.

My instructor looks like he's about 16, so in some ways, it was a little intimidating to get lessons from him. He also had some wonderful comments that made me feel so much better, like:

• "Wow, those are some really old clubs. I bet they're older than me." (They most definitely are.)
• "Actually, I bet they're older than YOU!" (Good chance of that as well, but he didn't need to rub it in how old I am).
• "The type of grip you want to use depends on your hands and how big they are." He then looks at my grip. "Wow, you have REALLY tiny hands. Better use the interlock grip."
• Later on when we were having a little chipping competition, and two of my fellow students had hit the target with what I am steadfastly claiming were lucky shots, he said to me, "Wow, you're the best guy here by far, all your shots have been actual chips, and you keep making really good shots. You're probably going to lose though. That's gonna burn, eh?" (For the record, I did not lose, I was second last).

Whippersnappers these days.

I'm still sick and MoPo isn't doing it for me this morning, so I'm watching Superbad and looking at IMDIB at the same time. It was there that I discovered that one of the cast members of Superbad, Carla Gallo, is credited as "Period Blood Girl". If you've seen the movie, you definitely know the girl.

That same woman appears in the 40 Year-Old Virgin and is credited as "Toe Sucking Girl". Again, if you've seen the movie, you know the girl.

Sure, she has some normal sounding roles like “Beth”, and she had a starring role as Lizzie Exley in Undeclared, but she started her career off with another great one, "Pantyhose Victim".

Believe me, I'm not making fun. She's more famous and (I hope) more wealthy than I will ever be, so more power to her. Here's hoping she gets a famous starring role someday though, so she doesn't have to introduce herself by saying, "You might remember me as the girl who did the thing to the toe in the 40 Year Old Virgin".

I've been quiet lately. I've had a bad cold and haven't really had the energy to do much. I was in a funk, no denying it.

And then along came Peggle.

I've always been a fan of the Popcap games, but it wasn't until I saw that The Escapist’s Zero Punctuation had done a review of Peggle that I decided to give it a try, and I had a similar experience to the reviewer, who I quote here:

"I started playing it around noon and emerged from my room sometime later to find that the authorities had declared me legally dead."

The game is kind of like a combination of Plinko and Arkanoid, but that's like saying that wine is a combination of grapes and time. I won't go on about the game so much, you can play it here for free online or you can download and play for yourself.

One of the reasons the game is so compelling is the triumphant use of one of the most ubiquitous melodies known to man, Ode to Joy from Beethoven's 9th symphony. It's difficult for me to describe the rush you get by pulling off an almost impossible ricochet, watching the ball's progress slow as the timpani roll and then seeing your screen explode in an orgy of colour as the old Ludwig Van blares out your speakers. I've been playing games on computers since there were computers, and this is one of a very select few to make me get up and dance around the room while pumping my arms above my head.

This game is so good I paid for it — before the trial period was up. I can't think of a stronger endorsement I can give.