My Life Story in 8 Stages

Wide-eyed hope has been mashed and puréed into cold disappointment, and I think I’ve come to terms with the fact that Nintendo is not going to respond to my most excellent query (see post #107 – Ed).

Despite the new abrasive relationship I’ve developed with the company, I still went out and paid cold, hard store credit for a copy of Castlevania: Portrait of Ruin. At 677.3% progress (what the hell does that even mean?), I’d say it’s on its way to replacing Aria of Sorrow as my favorite of the portable games. So well-grounded is my dedication that, when prompted to doodle an icon for my file with the stylus, I resisted, with a rigid brow and the sternest of looks, man’s instinctive duty to draw a penis.

Now, at age 25, I still find myself cursing aloud bastards of evolution and science like Frankenstein[‘s Monster] and Medusa, just as I imagine our forefathers did many years ago. I guess I’ve been killing things with whips for twenty years now, so I should be pretty adept.

(Pictured: Me, going to Pat’s house circa 199x)

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