It was at this precise moment when our heroine realized that she usually prefers playing videogames alone.

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

Social Gaming

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Figment came to pick me up at LAX to bring me out to the resort where DEMO was being held. He made my few hours in LA even more awesome by taking me on an epic quest for all the West Coast-only drivethrus, actually eating Del Taco in the line for In-and-Out Burgers.

A few minutes in, he turned and gave me a weird look. I followed his eyes to the VW bug pulling out in front of us. There was a pause. With meaningful eye contact. I knew what he was thinking. The only questions was which of us would say the thing that was on both of our minds…

“Oh, are we starting that again?” he said.

It is a two hour drive from Los Angeles to Palm Springs. I’m just saying.

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

Punchbacks

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So I’d mentally planned out a whole post about going for drinks with a really good looking filmmaker. (I mean, yeah, I was listening to him too, but I’m pretty much always thinking about blog posts on some level.) I was going to tell you about the bajillion microbrews available, and all the shining polished wood in the bar. I would have segued smoothly in acquiring my taste for beer in Yantai, where yantai pijiu was literally cheaper than water. Dave, Zorro and I would order pitchers of watery beer and plates of noodles, and sit at plastic streetside tables every summer night. And I’d tie it back to the palms trees and neon of Los Angeles. I’m a fantastic blogger in my head.

But instead, I’m fixated on the part where the hot guy was driving me home, and I somehow forget that I wasn’t hanging out with Scep, so I leaned over, smacked him and shouted “PUNCH BUGGY YELLOW! NO PUNCH BACKS!”

I’m a catch, all right.

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

No Punchbacks

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Tonight was the end-of-term dance for the students, and some of the responsible adults also grabbed the chance to dance around the gym/auditorium, gossip by the water fountain, hang out with the smokers on the stairs and generally act like high school kids.  I’m not hip to Euro club music (or whatever that was), but there was still at least one song I could really dance to.

Student: Miss Meg, where did you learn the ‘Poker Face’ dance?

Meg: Oh, I picked it up from the Dance Central booth at E3.

Eye-Rolling Student: No, be serious, how did you really learn it?

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

Two Worlds Collided

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I remember driving alone from Vermont back to Western Mass a few months after I’d started driving, and feeling like the trip was an object lesson in gorgeous road metaphors. The curves in the mountain roads, blind corners, broad views down the mountain, and then the highway opening and flattening out in front of me. All of those road metaphors in songs and poems suddenly made sense!

So, I’m buying a car. This  has turned out to be a hilariously awful process, just as eye-opening as that New England morning drive, only now I’m fully understanding all the things people say about used cars and used car salesmen.

I don’t really like driving, and I don’t really know that much about cars. I can drive a standard and I can check a car’s oil, and I am incredibly impressed with myself for being able to do those things.

I secretly enjoy it when computer salespeople dumb things down for me, because it’s almost always followed by that awkward look when they realize I know what I’m talking about.  But with cars, I actually don’t have the foggiest idea what we’re talking about. Oh, it need a transmisserator? Excuse me while I stare blankly. And Google.

Anyway, I’ve gotten better and better at knowing what to ask when I go to look at cars. Do you have the title in hand, and is it actually in your name or your cousin’s sister-in-law’s roommate’s name? Are you selling the car because it spectacularly failed inspection recently? Did you hit a deer immediately after posting the photos? If it’s a standard, do all of the gears work?

And, one that bitter experience has taught me to ask: DOES IT HAVE SEATS?

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

One Hubcap ‘Cause Three Got Stolen

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When I was back in New Jersey a few weeks ago, I mentioned to my parents that I’d helped a little bit with the spinoff game for Shutter Island. (I didn’t add that my particular brand of helping had a lot to do with asking the producer about a thousand times to please please warn me if was going to be gross. Sorry about that, Harold!) They seemed pleased, perhaps because I’ve worn them down by telling them over and over that I’ve written about a game they haven’t heard about in a publication they haven’t heard about. Besides,  if you can’t tell your parents about minor successes and have them be impressed, really, what are parents for?

“Does that mean you’re in the credits with Martin Scorsese?” my dad asked.

“I’m not entirely sure who that is.” (Every day with me is like an adventure in pop culture.)

“The director of The Godfather!” my dad said. “Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

“I saw that!” I said, “It was kind of gross.”

Edit: My old roommate Chris just pointed out that Scorsese is not actually the director of The Godfather, which just proves that nobody reads the credits anyway.

PS: If you would like to play the game, you can download the free trial or buy the game here.

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

Shutter Island

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I always leave happy and mellow, so I guess it’s a step up from my previous workout routine, but somehow yoga isn’t instantly making me thin and fit. Don’t know why. I think I’ll have a cupcake and try to figure that out.

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

My Problem With Yoga

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“And how are your plants doing? Are they still alive?” my mom asked on the phone the other night.

“Yes!”

“Meg, that’s great!”

“You didn’t have to sound quite so surprised, Mom.”

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

Green Thumb

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Last night we went to Awesome Street for a party. I was a little nervous since I didn’t know anyone, but that dissipated when we arrived and saw a couple of backdoor smokers, wearing white fuzzy bunny ears.

“If I’d known,” Stick said. “I could have worn my Hugh Hefner smoking jacket,”

Although Stick and I found Awesome Street endlessly hilarious (“There’s no room for the car here! We’ll have to park over on Mediocre Street!”), some of the other guests told us that the town of Cary was less than thrilled with creativity cutting into their cutesy themed-named subdivisions, and the Awesome Street residents had to apply several times to get the name approved. We also learned that Awesome Street beat out runner-up names Floppy Drive and Hard Drive.

“Yeah, sometimes I’m working and I see people pull up and take photos of the street sign!” one guy told me.

“That was me.” I said.

I’m of the school of thought that social gatherings require me to put on lip gloss and bring a six pack (see also: ways in which I will never fully leave college), and I was totally impressed with this one’s Sno-Cone maker, margarita machine, and all kinds of toys. What really set it apart from our last our last Playboy-themed office party, though, was Mama Hoffmann’s twin circling and insisting that we all eat! More! Have another one! Do you want something else? Eat! You should eat more! Have another one!

It was a nice crowd, and we talked about the joys of Bosphorus, Unaabi Grill, and how Cary, for all its soulless sameness, really does have great food. I met a lot of –  can’t resist it any longer– awesome people. (If you were at the Awesome party, and I was not swift enough to trade contact info with you, I would love to get in touch!)

Later on, I met a girl who — and I could not make this up — was an element bridesmaid for her best friend’s pagan wedding. (She was Earth, but when I was in Allison’s wedding, I was Air) The former-element-bridesmaid and her now-husband decided to get married at the courthouse. I am not saying those two facts are connected, of course, just mentioning two things I learned last night.

“So, how do you know the Intelliscanner crew?” another girl asked me.

“I drove past one day and I got out to take a picture.” I said.

“Oh. Oh! I thought you were kidding about that.”

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

The Awesome Party

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Cashier: What adorable Spiderman band-aids! Your kids are going to love them!

Meg: Kids?

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

Does Whatever A Spider Can

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