Dear people trying to sell your Sega/NES/SNES for an insane amount of money,
I know what you’re doing. You don’t, but I do. You’re not just selling an old game console you pulled out of your closet, you’re selling your childhood. Your leisure time from your adolescence is all wrapped up in the sentiment you’ve attached to that hunk of plastic. It’s fine, that’s one of the same reasons I collect Sega shit. I’m trying to reclaim those parts of my fat little chubby kid years. One of my favorite things to do in the world is play Sonic, eat some starburst, and transport myself back to 1994 and imagine myself as a carefree, beardless little kid wearing a XL ‘94 Olympics t-shirt (the one with Izzy) and basketball shorts. But that nagging sense of nostalgia tugging at the part of your heart that gives you a panic attack at night when you think about how you’re going to die one day is no excuse to charge $80 for a Sega Genesis. The retail price for a used Genesis that’s been cleaned/repaired/improved is like, $20 and can be found for as low as $5. Now you might think, “Oh well, it’s worth whatever someone will pay!” Yeah, if your a goddamn cunt. The only people that would ever pay $40-$50 more than retail for a Sega/NES/SNES are clueless old people trying to find something that their kids/grandkids will like. You’re going to sell a SNES to some clueless dad wearing a tucked in t-shirt, cargo jorts, and loafers with white socks for $60 over retail because “you can.” And do you know what’s going to happen? He’s going to take it home, thinking he’s just done something cool, and proudly present it to his son, only to be immediately devastated by the look of utter disappointment on his face when he says, “But I wanted a PS3!” He’ll probably try to resell it pretty soon after that. That’s when the real knockout punch comes because when he does the tiniest bit of research online he’ll see that there’s no way he’s going to be able to get his money back. Good job, dickbag, you made a dorky dad hate himself.
Anyway, yeah. People that over charge for classic video games and consoles, I hope you get raped by an elk.
Oh, and $15 for Shaq-Fu? I hope your family gets kidnapped by a Mexican drug cartel.
There’s this guy at work that’s constantly badgering everyone about coming to his church, which is one of those giant ballad-rock-for-jesus-wave-your-hands-over-your-head-while-crying kind of churches. The kind of church where the kids from Jesus Camp go for the winter. You know the kind. Anyway, today this guy showed me exactly how cock hungry he is for Christ. The day started off odd when I walked into my cubicle and noticed my Flying Spaghetti Monster sticker that I had pinned on the wall next to my white board was crumpled up in the garbage can and had been replaced by a scrap of paper with Psalm 14:1 written on it. It’s not like the sticker was visible to anyone but me, so it wasn’t in plain view. I happen to have a few of these stickers, so i replaced it but this time I actually stuck it on the white board instead of pinning it up. Then I went to lunch. When I got back, I was milling around the office doing normal office shit and I noticed that lumpy little Jesus-freak was staring daggers into me like I fucked his tween daughter on film. I get back to my desk and THERE’S A GIANT SNOTTY WAD OF BOOGERS SMEARED ACROSS MY COMPUTER MONITOR. I knew who did it immediately. Well, not immediately, because I had forgotten about the sticker/bible verse incident from earlier (it’s been a long, busy day), but It didn’t take long. I wiped up the snot rocket (which was not small) and stuck the bible verse from earlier on it and set it on Bible-bro’s desk. Apparently he thought I wouldn’t know it was him becasue I didn’t say anything to him, but for about 45 minutes after this whenever I’d walk by him, or him by me, I would stare him down. Look him right in his stupid fucking face and he would look straight at the ground and scurry away quickly like he suddenly remembered something that needed to be done in the opposite direction of wherever he or I was going. So of course, I had to fuck with him since he was obviously terrified I was going to murder him or report him to our superiors. I kept going out of my way to pass by him, wait next in line for the printer, and when he went to the bathroom I would go wait outside and go in after him. I basically stopped working for an hour to follow him around and watch him freak out. Then the most wonderful and pathetic thing happened, he brought me a hand written note. It said, "I’m sorry, I’m on fire for the Lord and sometimes act without thinking because of that. I really need to pray more about accepting those that have rejected our Savior. Can we please forget what has happened? I can’t afford an HR complaint. I could lose my job. Again, I’m sorry and I’ll pray for you." He was pretty close to crying as he stood there while I read it. I just looked at him like I would look at an 8 year old dwarf amputee having a panic attack while trying to juggle oranges on a unicycle and said, “It’s cool, man. Chill out.” To which he replied, "Cool beans."
Oh by the way, this guy is in his mid 40s and has a wife and 2 kids.
I know it sounds like horse shit but this is completely fucking true.
I almost killed myself to retrieve my favorite hat from the highway today.
On my way home from work I had the windows down and the sunroof open and wouldn’t you know it, my hat flew off my head and out the window. So I decided the best course of action was to pull a U-turn and drive by at 50mph hanging out of my open door and snatch it up in an Indiana Jones-ish kind of way. Which I did. So far everyone I’ve told jut thinks I’m an idiot instead of an incredible badass.