Each time I have finished an article in this continued series, I tell myself: "Well, you've about exhausted that line of reasoning."
Not true, apparently. Beneath my layers of sardonic mannerisms and general cynicism, I am actually a positive person. Lots of things make me happy; beaches and quality seafood are two things that quickly come to mind, and who knows how many more exist! I even enjoy writing about them, most of the time. (Unless the plebians at work kindle my considerable ire.)
I am slow to anger but furious when it happens. Now that I've substituted punching and kicking for writing angry blog posts, everything seems to be a little brighter. (Bright enough for Croakies, even.)
But that's enough about me. Let's get on to more me. Don't read a blog titled "A Study in Max" unless you want to hear about Max.
1. The Demon Inside of Me
I refer, of course, to my insatiable love for Starcraft. This all started when I was a young lad of 6. During the summer, my cousin Sam (who lived in Wichita and is two years older) would wake up at 9 a.m. and rush to our respective computers. We'd get on the phone and then start a heavy day of Starcraft. Pausing at midday to eat a Lunchable (I was quite fond of the Taco or Cracker sandwich varieties) we would resume our intergalactic domination until the early afternoon. Then I would start reading. I was quite the party animal back then.
Starcraft, like all things, lost my attention after a year or two. I moved on to bigger and better things--namely Halo, The Lord of the Rings, and why my voice started to crack uncontrollably. (Unbelievable as it may seem, I was not always the perfect specimen of the male form that I am today.)
That all changed, however, when Starcraft II, a sequel long in the making, was released in early August of last year.
I, being the social butterfly I was, had eagerly followed the development of my favorite series throughout the decade-long debacle before it was sprung fully formed from Blizzard's loins. (I am ashamed to admit that I support the company responsible for World of Warcraft.) When the game emerged, I was in Mexico. I returned and barely allowed myself time to carry in my bags before the Manbrid and I shot off into the night to the nearest Wal-Mart (at about midnight) to fulfill my life's dream.
I eagerly sat down to play in my room. Chris Camarata, one of my good friends from home, played a game with me online. Installation included, it was about 2 a.m.
At 2:45 I was admitted to the hospital. Amazingly, the incident in question was not excitement-related. It was actually E. Coli. Turns out Mexico is not only filthy economically, but also hygienically.
You bet your ass I brought my laptop with me. The hospital's meager WiFi could not support the ever-hungry bandwith monster that is my addiction, but I played single player to my heart's content. (That is, when I wasn't passing into pain-medication induced comas and wishing for death in my unclean hospital bed.)
It may not be fratty, or even cool in the slightest sense of the word, but nobody can take Starcraft away from me. There is a certain satisfaction you hold when vast armies respond to your very click and you see your forces hold against wave after wave....
You know what? Next section!
2. Shitty Residence Hall Filled with Awesome People
Despite the unforgiving linoleum floors (The interior designer of Mark Twain specialized in industrial bathrooms before his first big [And, God willing, his final] project) the crumbling, pockmarked, and scuffed cinderblock walls, the random pipes that ran across the ceiling, and the eternal filthiness of the floor (dirt was actually ingrained chemically into the aforementioned linoleum), Twain had a certain quaintness about it, much like a Dark Ages British mud harvester.
Besides the room quality itself, which, if I were an English nanny, would dub "simply dreadful," Mark Twain contained a large proportion of pretty amazing people. Shout-outs will be given individually, if you aren't included then please submit your concerns here: they will be taken by my receptionist.
In no particular order:
Natalie "Natty" Cheng: AKA Ping: What can I say? She's completely crazy. Whether she's wearing puffy sweaters or artsy hats or cleaning her eternally messy room, she's a delight. She also balances out our group ethnically, as we appear to be almost exclusively white.
Steven "STEEEEVEEE" Scheller: AKA The Mechanic: He fixes stuff. He drives a cool car. He's always chill. He's always there to get things off a high shelf. What else needs to be said?
Dylan "Catty" Chapman: Always there to provide us with cutting humor and stereotypical love of America's Next Top Model--two crucial things.
Laura "Ice Queen" Willenbring: If Laura didn't exist, I would seem like the biggest douchebag in the world. (I don't already....right guys?) She balances out my cold exterior with her even colder exterior. There's a reason Minnesota is the way it is.
Bethany "Methany" Christo: She is clinically insane and also a hobbit. Hobbies include sleeping on floors and doing homework in the perfect times to make me feel like a worthless turd.
Theresa "Bro" Beno: What can I even say? She knows how to eat a chicken wing properly. She will, on occasion, punch things without warning. She will never take any of my shit and I love her for that.
Katarina "What are you, like Russian or something?" Sostaric: I wonder if clinical insanity is a trend in our group, because we have another example. Couldn't pick a better roommate and shares my love of Jersey Shore, chill music, and Asian Zing Buffalo Wild Wings.
Jessica "Artsy as Shit" Smith: Though she may appear to be insane as well, she is actually more stable than I can imagine. She kept our entire group fed and alive during Spring Break and is the most sensible person out of a group of people who, on occasion, make poor decisions.
Garrett "Garolly" Richie: The true King of the Jeeds. Always helpful, always kind, always cargo-short clad. Outdoorsy enough to make me jealous. Unfortunately he is already married, ladies. (Wait, he isn't yet? What are they waiting for?)
Jimmy "Homos should be Homeless" Hibsch: One of the most talented writers I've ever met. Obsessed with powerful minority women. Also, this one movie was totally filmed at his high school.
Winn "This isn't even a thing" Duvall: If I elaborate on this, she'll wring my throat with her tiny hands or crush me to death with her gigantic...force of will, but, suffice to say, I'm a fan. Charming, delightfully weird, and perfectly Southern. Her body is powered exclusively by McNuggets and Sweet Tea and she has a tendency to slap things I enjoy out of my hands to fall on the pavement and then laugh in my face. Maniacal? Perhaps. However, if we don't interact viciously in public, we may fall into a pit of public affection that will wrench the sanity from either of us. She's also my girlfriend, I guess.
That's all for now. I hope everybody enjoys this. More to come. My cleverness knows no bounds!
-Max
P.S. I am legitimately sorry if I forgot anyone from the list. It is approaching 1 a.m. and I have to dedicate 9 hours of my time tomorrow to giving boat rides to the serfs of Kansas City. We must act quickly, before they discover movable printed type, circulate fliers, and rise up against the landed gentry.
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