DOOM DAYS

At a time when girls didn't count (yikes that long ago?), when the only use for a condom was to fill it with water and giggle and throw it out of a moving car, there was DOOM.

I can't believe that video games have advanced so much. DOOM used to be the shit. It used to be an obsession. But for anyone who has ever spent a part of their youth dwelling in musty basements, staying up late past midnight, sweating and cursing in front of the 486 chip computer, DOOM was the game.

Sure now the game looks silly. But like wine it gets better with age and there's something magic about it. It must be the sheer simplicity of running around like a dickhead, picking off imps, and demons, and those pixelated goons, which still brings a smile to my face.

Which is weird that I searched on the net to find the original shareware version of DOOM. I guess I wanted to revive the good old days. What spawned this craze? Maybe I have too much time on my hands.

No.

I'm a sucker when it comes to hype. I believe that anything worth doing is worth doing right. What the fuck? Nobody needs to go out and play the original DOOM in order to see the new Doom movie.

But I did and in some weird nerdy way it made that horrible movie better.

Doom with the Rock is not a good movie. In fact, you ask yourself during the showing, why on earth did I chose to see THIS SHIT.

But some of it works.

There's a whole slew of bad video game movie adaptations out there. Resident Evil comes to mind. Street Fighter does too. Fuck Jean Claude VanDamme.

For some reason that 3rd Person POV scene in the new movie makes it worthwhile. You wait for it and when it happens you can't help but to turn into that nerdy kid that played the game. For those that don't know there is a scene that gives a nod to the old game by showing everything in the 3rd person perspective.

That's when you prove to yourself that you were a computer nerd when you notice that some of the sounds used in the movie are straight from the game.

OH MAN! THAT IS THE SAME GUN SHOT SOUND THAT THEY USED IN THE GAME!

Please.

There really is no point to review DOOM. The movie wants to be on par with Predator and Aliens - but it fails. Which is a weird standard - the Predator was a great movie but it had a shitty video game. Doom was a good video game but it has a mediocre movie.

But why did we play DOOM in the first place? To kill time. To escape the harsh realities of office life. Which is the only reason to actually go out and see DOOM - to kill time before, say, the SOX game.

The Rock wants to make a good movie so bad that he can taste it. But he's an action star and should stick to that shit. Only that shit.

And playing DOOM after all these years?

Now I know why it was so addictive.

Even now the game doesn't look THAT bad. Sure - compared to anything out there now it eats some donkey dick. The pixels, the bad animations, no jump feature, same gameplay - sure it has room to suck.

The fact that it was a pioneer game is what makes it good.

I'm an asshole when it comes to this.

Can you believe that I played Doom, Duke Nukem 3D, and Quake all in one weekend. All good games for their time.

And I like escape. FUCK - that's why I drink.

All I have to do now is get my hands on a copy of the full DOOM. Fuck it! I'm a sucker for nostalgia.

Bring on some DOOM, and fuck the Barron of Hell.

White Sox win the Pennant...White Sox fans get drunk on Sunday.

It used to be that baseball stars would drop dead from massive heart attacks because they either smoked thirty fucking Cuban cigars a day, ate meat for breakfast lunch and dinner, fucked ten whores a night, drank like fish, got cancer, enlarged their livers, and got diseases they name after you. Real men.

But now they don't. They play baseball. There's no gimmicks. Now they just spray each other with Cristal. They make good plays. And unless you're A.J. Pierzynski, you try to get involved with many call controversies. Calls that worked in Sox favor.

So Sox win the Pennant. The White Sox are doing some partying tonight. And it's a good reason.

Something very nostalgic clicks inside of guys when their home town team wins something they haven't in a while. Baseball in October in Chicago you say? No fucking way.

Now usually I have better things to do than sit at home or at the bar and watch a baseball game. I surf the net for free porn. Asia Carrera. Lilly Thai. Or brunette takes it up...nevermind. Somethings are better left unsaid. That shit is private.

But this is ridiculous.

I've been watching baseball for four days straight. My beard stubble is growing thick, my room has extra holes in the wall, and it feels like I was out drinking with Babe Ruth. Cigarettes butts are everywhere and I'm wondering why I don't have a baseball glove on, a cap on, and well of course, just to be an idiot, white socks.

It's even worse when you watch the game on TV. So you're watching, wearing out holes in the carpeting from too much stomping around in front of the TV and screaming "He's doing it on purpose!"

A couple of "fucking cocksuckers" and "tumbling tumbling dickweeds" later and there's a beer in front of you already. And this was supposed to be a nice night of baseball.

Then the commercials start. It happens during every ballgame on TV. At some point you start paying attention to the beer commercials. And it's a masterful thing to weasel me from the friendly confines of my room to the convenience store and be back at the start of the next inning. Fucking advertising.

Apparently it's okay to advertise and get you to buy a product such as beer in this country, but if you drink too much of it you're an asshole and nobody wants to look at you. All they do is shake their heads.

Listen - I started the night trying to get drunk and watch the ballgame. Mission accomplished. It's you fuckers who drink not to get drunk who are fucked up.

Sorry - baseball brings on hostility.

So I took a break and decided to watch the game from a bar stool in the neighborhood. There's something very lively about the atmosphere.

"Catch that shit."

"Fucker WAS OUT!"

"OH YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

"Fuck California!"

"Turn on the hockey game? Are you fucking retarded man?"

"Watch the game dickweed!"

"Move your elbow fuckface!"

"One more beer!"

"A shot more if they score!"

"Who is winning? What are you stupid?"

Chicago White Sox fans' hard ons were bigger than their egos. And that is a rare thing to see.

WE'RE IN THE WORLD SERIES!

Try watching a sports game and not drinking. Fucking saints. It's impossible. At least where I watch the games.

And it was a Sunday late night victory so you know a couple of assholes will call in sick on Monday claiming that they have the bird flu. Bullshit you drunken fucks. All ya drunken baseball fans hit it up full throttle when they won.

And it's okay.

I'm actually curious to see what will happen to a guy who against all odds will decide to be the needle in the haystack and wear a Cubs uniform to work after the Sox won the Pennant. Some yolk will and I know it. And those hungover White Sox fans will kick some mad ass.

Which is probably what happened after Sunday night's game.

"DUDE! Let's find a Cubs fan and beat the living shit out of him. To celebrate, ya know, and we'll dress him up in a Konerko jersey."

Good thing the next game is a few days away.

Time to join up with the human race.

Monday

I loathe Mondays. Why? It all stems from the fact that it is a post weekend holiday where anything that can go wrong will. Murphy's Law to be sure. Who the fuck is Murphy?

Geez - every Monday starts the same way. I know that you can relate in some way or form.

Think of a Monday. Yeah - it's coming up soon. Work is back again. Problems with your car are back. You need to get cigarettes AGAIN. Kids want lunch money. The dog wants to go out. The news anchors are already chipper in the morning.

And it's after the weekend - remember? Yeah me neither. Which sucks because I go to parties to have a good time. I get to the party fine. But how I get home is completely alien to me. Maybe it's time to end it with the blackouts. For health reasons that is.

Steve-O's appearance on Too Late With Adam Carolla is too funny. It also poses some interesting musings. How many times was I in that state?

Back to fucking Mondays.

The clock rings and you hit the snooze button with Hulk like strength. Then you do that every ten minutes for the next hour, because you know it's all downhill after you get out of bed.

Coffee. Coffee. Piss.

Aspirin. Aspirin. Shit.

Then the regret creeps up as you sit in your fucking car, stuck in traffic, thinking about why there is a need to consume massive amounts of alcohol, as Phil Collins' "One More Night" is playing on the radio.

One more night and I might lose a leg. Or a tooth. Or lose something. Like a wallet or keys, or a dildo, or common sense.

I might lose my mind.

But maybe it's too late.