Like most people I was looking forward to last thursday, just my luck that faith saw fit to take a massive shit on my heatlh for my troubles.

5 days of nothing but vomit, stomach ache and a pounding head. Some of which has lessened some of which has left me altogether (thank fuck). I still aint in the best but at least I'm able to hold my self together long enough to get some blogging done and make a permenant record of the what I had to endure the past 5 days. BTW did I mention the lack of sleep. You have no idea how boring TV is at 5:30am, its torture.

Edit: I only had to make twelve or so spelling corrections. So i must be getting better.

I'll admit I never played Starcraft, and I was interested in playing Starcraft 2............until I heard this little bit of news. It feels more than a little underhanded. Buying all three of them seems to me like walking down a dark ally with your pants around your ankles.

I had heard stories of hot chicks in t-shirts handing out free shit, stories of prizes and discounts. My experience at the midnight launch of GTAIV was such a let down. It was at the Game store in the Liffey Valley Shopping Centre in Dublin. The really annoying thing though is the only staff member to walk down the line only handed out a sheet of paper with details on how to pre-order Haze. No keyrings, no mouse pads, no vouchers for a discount on the game, not even a fucking poster. Long story short that midnight launch soured me on ever going to another.

Apparently that spoken passage in the first Gears of War 2 trailer was actually a poem named "Rendezvous" written in 1915 by a poet named Alan Seeger. Here's the rest of it for those who are interested.

"I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air--
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath--
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.

God knows 'twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear . . .
But I've a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous."

It turns out that the Mr Seeger made his rendezvous durning the Battle of the Somme in 1916.

Whats with all the zombie games being made these days? Left 4 Dead, Dead Island, House of the dead overkill, COD World at War & Saints Row 2. Ok COD and Saints Row 2 arn't exactly zombie games, but they do have those zombie mini games in them, so I'm counting them with the rest. All we need now is for someone to resurrect (sorry for that) Dead Rush and our zombie apocolypse will truly be complete.

I'm a modern man, digital and smoke-free; a man for the millennium.

A diversified, multi-cultural, post-modern deconstructionist; politically, anatomically and ecologically incorrect.

I've been uplinked and downloaded, I've been inputted and outsourced. I know the upside of downsizing, I know the downside of upgrading.

I'm a high-tech low-life. A cutting-edge, state-of-the-art, bi-coastal multi-tasker, and I can give you a gigabyte in a nanosecond.

I'm new-wave, but I'm old-school; and my inner child is outward-bound.

I'm a hot-wired, heat-seeking, warm-hearted cool customer; voice-activated and bio-degradable.

I interface with my database; my database is in cyberspace; so I'm interactive, I'm hyperactive, and from time to time I'm radioactive.

Behind the eight ball, ahead of the curve, ridin' the wave, dodgin' the bullet, pushin' the envelope.

I'm on point, on task, on message, and off drugs.

I've got no need for coke and speed; I've got no urge to binge and purge.

I'm in the moment, on the edge, over the top, but under the radar.

A high-concept, low-profile, medium-range ballistic missionary.

A street-wise smart bomb. A top-gun bottom-feeder.

I wear power ties, I tell power lies, I take power naps, I run victory laps.

I'm a totally ongoing, big-foot, slam-dunk rainmaker with a pro-active outreach.

A raging workaholic, a working rageaholic; out of rehab and in denial.

I've got a personal trainer, a personal shopper, a personal assistant, and a personal agenda.

You can't shut me up; you can't dumb me down. 'Cause I'm tireless, and I'm wireless. I'm an alpha-male on beta-blockers.

I'm a non-believer, I'm an over-achiever; Laid-back and fashion-forward. Up-front, down-home; low-rent, high-maintenance.

I'm super-sized, long-lasting, high-definition, fast-acting, oven-ready and built to last.

A hands-on, footloose, knee-jerk head case; prematurely post-traumatic, and I have a love child who sends me hate-mail.

But I'm feeling, I'm caring, I'm healing, I'm sharing. A supportive, bonding, nurturing primary-care giver.

My output is down, but my income is up. I take a short position on the long bond, and my revenue stream has its own cash flow.

I read junk mail, I eat junk food, I buy junk bonds, I watch trash sports.

I'm gender-specific, capital-intensive, user-friendly and lactose-intolerant.

I like rough sex; I like tough love. I use the F-word in my e-mail. And the software on my hard drive is hard-core—no soft porn.

I bought a microwave at a mini-mall. I bought a mini-van at a mega-store. I eat fast food in the slow lane. I'm toll-free, bite-size, ready-to-wear, and I come in all sizes.

A fully equipped, factory-authorized, hospital-tested, clinically-proven, scientifically-formulated medical miracle.

I've been pre-washed, pre-cooked, pre-heated, pre-screened, pre-approved, pre-packaged, post-dated, freeze-dried, double-wrapped and vacuum-packed.

And . . . I have unlimited broadband capacity.

I'm a rude dude, but I'm the real deal. Lean and mean. Cocked, locked and ready to rock; rough, tough and hard to bluff.

I take it slow, I go with the flow; I ride with the tide, I've got glide in my stride.

Drivin' and movin', sailin' and spinnin'; jivin' and groovin', wailin' and winnin'.

I don't snooze, so I don't lose. I keep the pedal to the metal and the rubber on the road. I party hearty, and lunchtime is crunch time.

I'm hangin' in, there ain't no doubt; and I'm hangin' tough.

Over and out.