One of the great things about my house is the pinball machine by the bar. When I first moved in, I was playing it all the time, battling with Jason over who was the Master Magician. As time went on, though, the game developed more and more problems to the point where you had to manually feed your ball every time. It simply became unfun.
Until last week, that is, when it got tuned up! I assume it’s a lot like when you’ve been living with a woman for a while, and have sorta gotten tired of her and you don’t have sex that often and when you do it’s not just not the same any more, but then she gets cosmetic surgery and you realize you’re still in love. Now I just need to get my pinball skills back in shape.
Oh man, you should’ve seen the pinball repairman. He was such a hardcore nerd. I mean, this was the kind of guy even I would have made fun of in middle school. So ironic, then, that I should meet him in such a situation where his bad-ass pinball knowledge and repair skills should bring me to worship him as some sort of demi-god.
Alright, I'm going to stop wasting my time with this blogging stuff and squeeze in a few games before class.
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