Five of my Own Personal Mindfucks

We all use little mental tricks sometimes to help us do things we aren't exactly happy about or good at. Pep-talks in the mirror before a job interview, favorite songs on the radio before a bi date, the promise of a new dress after dropping those last few pounds... Everybody has their go-to techniques for self motivation. Here are five geeky things I do to give myself a mental leg up on the tasks at hand.

My Special Water Cup: Anyone who's ever kept count understands that it is truly difficult to ingest 8 glasses of water a day unless you're hungover, or working in the dead heat of summer. I detest drinking water. It's so boring to me that the act of finishing even one glass is truly an accomplishment. So, in an effort to make things less mundane, I look for cool cups to drink out of. I tell myself that I can only drink water out of these specific cups, so if I want to use them, I have to chug the H2O. It's not the greatest trick in the book, but it's been a tremendous help to me in bumping up my water consumption on my SparkPeople page.

Super Hero Pills: Medicating myself with large, chalky, un-coated pills is not only a huge chore, it's also a genuine problem. It's incredibly difficult for me to choke down an anti-biotic the size of Texas when it clings to my tongue, my cheek, and the back of my throat. This last round of medicinal ingestion was made much easier due to some advice from my good friend Cara. "Just pretend it's a super hero pill," she said to me offhandedly as I bemoaned the task from my cube. Sure enough I popped the sucker into my mouth, thought about its Captain America-esque healing powers and swallowed it down in no time. Now 'getting well soon' is mixed with a little comic book charm.

Paparazzi Elliptical Training: Don't get me wrong, I love tearing up the elliptical at the gym. But sometimes you're just having a 'blah' day and your iPod absolutely hates you. When this happens to me I think about all those US Magazine segments where the paparazzi snags pictures of celebrities in the most unflattering poses. I imagine I'm a celebrity and there's some douchebag with a camera shooting me right at that moment Then I think about getting called out about it on some show like Ellen. "What in the world are you thinking about in this shot?" she'd ask. And I'd reply with something like "Oh, I was listening to High School Musical and channeling Zach Efron while I trained for my new role in the next Tarantino flick." By the time I'm through with the interview it's time for the cool down.

Taking the Stairs Like Bruce Willis: Any time I'm in a stairwell by myself I always think of Die Hard. I am John McClane and there is a well dressed German super villain just waiting to send his minions out after me. I open and close the stairwell doors as silently as possible. If I'm about to enter the stairwell, and hear someone coming down the hall, I move swiftly so as to avoid detection. Yippe Ki Yay motherfucker!

Roller Coaster Space Shuttle Training: Even though I have a blast riding roller coasters, I always have to psyche myself up to actually get on them. When I was younger, one of the coolest things in the world to me was space travel. So, I used this concept to force myself to get over the roller coaster jitters and quit being a pussy. I pretended that the rides were part of some sort of NASA training program. This may speak to the entities ultimate demise, because anyone who would take  my screaming ass into space should up their standards. But it still works even though funding has been cut from one of my favorite government establishments. Now I just pretend the coasters are for Viper training.

So, whether you pretend you're Barry White while making love to your woman or you tap the bat twice to your left cleat before swinging away... You're certainly not alone.

Deadly Premonition is Hazardous to My Health

Last week I bought two games from my local Game Stop: BulletStorm and Deadly Premonition. BulletStorm was great for the first five minutes of figuring out that I was actually rewarded for shooting people in the nuts. Then I was over it. This weekend I decided to give some attention to Deadly Premonition. My waiting a week to start the game had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that my best friend was actually in town this weekend. I'm certainly not afraid to play scary games in a house all by myself. (Note pussified sarcasm)

Here's the trailer to Deadly Premonition

Not exactly a warm and fuzzy romp through the forest with crazy mushrooms to pounce upon. The thing about Deadly Premonition is that it's probably one of the worst games out there. Within seconds of seeing the intro I was bemoaning the graphics that were almost as shitty as a first gen Xbox title. Then there was the ridiculous main character and his schizophrenic relationship with me. But worst of all were the super outdated combat mechanics. Part shitty FPS, part top down Resident Evil ONE blundering, this game was destined for failure.

Why did I keep playing it?

I have no idea. I think it was just the ridiculous notion that the game was even published that spurred me on. I just kept waiting to find one redeeming quality in a effort to justify not only my purchase, but the games existence.

About an hour in my BFF Jen entered the room and asked me about it. I told her that it sucked and she concurred. But I kept playing, she kept watching and we both alternated between laughing at the atrocious dialogue and holding our breath through the frustrating, yet terrifying combat. This game was bad/good and we were under its spell.

I think it was around the 8th hour of game play (we literally only stopped for Wendy's and booze) that I injured myself. That, dear readers, is missing skin.

You may be asking how my special needs ass managed this. Well, the answer is simple. During one assanine chase scene through a lumber mill, you are required to make the main character run by rapidly moving the left analog stick from left to right. My left thumb just wasn't getting the job done, but I found that if quickly passed my palm over the rubber pad, I could move things along fast enough. And it did end up working. My character made it out unscathed. My hand, however, did not. It lost a nice chunk of skin.

The thing is, I wanted to continue playing. One Wall-E band-aid...

... And a little gauze later... (Thank god we had that Grey's Anatomy party!)

And I was ready to go again! So was Sam.

The moral of the story here is that being a video game dork can be dangerous business. Sometimes the rewards come at a price. I can now safely say that I've given blood, sweat and tears to my proud gaming past. I could possibly have a scar to prove it. So, before you pick up that next exciting title, make sure you know that the cost doesn't end with the price tag.

And make sure to invest in gauze. BATTLE WOUND SELF SHOT!