Here is Where I Pick My Favorite Games

I really like lists. I also like games. As the year has dwindled to a close I'm going to combine these two fiery passions into something not at all cliched, overdone, or abundant throughout the internet.

The Mystery of the Poop

My morning routine is constant and simple. I wake, brush my teeth, eat cereal, and play games. We tend to leave at 8 am. A few days ago I turned off my game and poured out my cereal milk in the sink. Suddenly, despite my routine, I was hit with the urge to "take care of business." If you're a "How I Met Your Mother Fan," you may better understand the phrase "read a magazine."

Fast forward 5 minutes.

We're in the car heading to the female's drop off point in SOMA. Out of nowhere (but clearly somewhere beneath my head), my nostrils are hit with the faint, but unmistakeable stench of poo. With every passing minute the smell wasn't going away and I began to freak out. Then, at the age of 26, the horrid thought crept into my mind:

Did I just shit my pants?

Good Breeding

History and Pop Culture are rife with failed attempts of genetic perfection. Hitler proclaimed blonde hair and blue eyes were all the rage, despite the clear evidence that half-Asian kids are pretty much the cutest ever. Why do you think my girlfriend is Asian?

Yet, nature does allow for success from time to time. If nobody had ever gotten a narwhal liquored up, we may not have unicorns today.

Practically a First Name Basis

"Hubert arrived in a dream of mine last night," I texted a friend. This is just the latest of a long series of texts that began late last night when I had a brief, yet life altering brush with celebrity.

These texts weren't just knee jerk name dropping, but precise, well timed and calculated salvos of self-importance.

My friend's reply was perfect. He played along and swooned like the foodie I knew him to be. In the name dropping world this is referred to as the "direct hit."

What is going on next door?

The gleeful cries and exultation of children were surprisingly heard by me Monday morning while unpacking in my new apartment. As I gazed out my new study window I saw a gaggle of children. Unfortunately, they also saw me, standing there in my boxers. I'm pretty sure that's illegal in California.

"What the hell were so many children doing in my neighbor's house?" I thought as I ran to note the need for a curtain in the study. Really, there are only three or four logical reasons. I consider myself a son of logic, a half-breed mixture of Spock and Holmes (imagine the cool hand gesture w/ the awesome hat). This was a case I could solve.