Random

So I'm sitting here and watching a town meeting online for a story I'll be working on tomorrow. Normally I attend these in person, but I felt like lounging around in pajamas in the comfort of my room.

I've been an extremely lazy creative writer, and I've been using this word a lot lately, but it's been shameful. I started doing random exercises, much like when I was a naive freshmen, in order to get back into the groove. I'm going to try to write scenes (with very little dialogue) of memorable places I've been to. They're not all going to be interesting, but it will at least be fun for me since I'm selfish.

Los Angeles, California

The line for the guys’ bathroom stretched out of the makeshift trailer to the edge of the shrubbery. For once, girls had it easy, provided there were any in attendance. Their line was non-existent.

The men were made of patchy beards, pale skin and tight t-shirts with quirky references. I had shaved my patchy beard before I left for L.A in attempt at respectability. My sandals and cargo shorts didn’t help the cause. At least I was wearing a Lacoste polo. A knock-off Lacotse polo, although nobody could tell.

All of us had just sat through an insufferable press conference on the latest video games from a major publisher. The games themselves looked decent enough, but the presentation was insulting. So much effort was put into making the presenters look cool, hip and irreverent. Most shameful of all was when the president of the company pronounced the name of a classic game wrong.

Video game journalists are picky about that type of thing.

I finally got inside the bathroom and relieved myself from the numerous beers I took advantage of at the open bar. This was my first real “party” at E3 (the Electronic Entertainment Expo to the square people) and I needed the drinks. My brain was fried from one video game demonstration after the other. I don’t even like games too much. Occasionally one blows me away, but most are absolute drivel. I just know so much about them from my younger years that I find writing about them to be comforting.

Outside of the bathroom, the party was getting started. An all male party, aside from the sexy servers, but a party nonetheless. Fancy purple lights flew around the posh garden outside the club. Nobody was talking about video games. It was the second day of the conference, and most people would be leaving since all the big events were over. The third and final day is often subdued and pleasantly empty.

The weather was perfect and so was the mashed potato bar. It’s essentially a salad bar, only with delicious, steaming mashed potatoes and fixin’s aplenty. Bacon. Chili. Cheese. Onions. Bacon. There were others, but I focused on those select few.

One of the sexy servers approached Wadleigh, my best friend and colleague, and I, with a plate of mini-burgers. This was before the mini-burger trend swept the nation like Pokemon did many years ago. Because of this, we treated these as exotic delicacies. We contemplated how to eat our burgers. Two bites were two much, but one bite seemed like it might be too little.

We finished them in one, like true manly game journalists would.