Emily Reily 1 p.m., Aug. 29
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Anybody curious as to how I spent my day can take a look at the chess game I finally won today after sixty moves. My opponent played well, making only one blunder, and I had to stay razor sharp to maintain my advantage for a protracted game. It was difficult, and he almost tricked me into stalemating the game, but I finally pulled it off. He wouldn't let me exchange pieces for the longest time--which is the right thing to do if you're down material--and the game was quite a struggle. Ratings indicate that I'm a stronger player than him, but I definitely felt like he played very well. If anyone wants a game, by the by, it's on.
Anyhoo, Runner-Up gets to sit in the First Loser's Chair (kidding, RU, kidding!) by virtue of exuberant titling and by vice of not being quite as cool as the big winner.
Speaking of whom, Here Be Winners, Yar!:
Not only is it five whole dollars cheaper than the Runner-Up, but it has almost limitless value to true, Bud quaffing Yah Dudes! and ironically decorating hipsters alike! Being something of both, among other things, I naturally want this.
....wait for it...
Seriously though, when I was a kid, I always thought that having a neon beer sign was the absolute epitome of coolness.
Sample Thought #1: "My future home--in which I will live as a young, single, adult male--will naturally be decorated with neon beer signs. This is the way that cool, young, single, adult males live. It is simply their nature."
Sample Reality #1: As a young, single, adult male (admittedly of highly debatable coolness--particularly wearing spandex), the "swingin' bachelor pad" of my youthful dreams is actually a lightless torture dungeon. It is impeccably decorated with my ludicrously talented roommate's artwork, and there are enough sweet bikes in the bike corner to keep anyone happy, but it is still a lightless, dismal torture dungeon. I don't even have a problem, per se, with the dungeon--it's just not within a thousand miles of The Vision.
Sample Thought #2: "I will be the kind of guy who cares about Lighted Beer Signs enough to go out, spend half a week's paycheck on one, and hang it proudly in his swingin' bachelor pad where all the sweet parties happen."
Sample Reality #2: Turns out I don't care. Not even a little bit. "Thank gods," I think, "that nobody thinks I'm 'That Guy.'" It's never good to be That Guy. You know who That Guy is? He's anyone you can conceptualize--particularly as a youth--and think of as "some kind of person." Why, among all things, do we visualize growing to fit stereotypes and preconceived notions? In retrospect, I find this incredibly weird, but mostly understandable. It's understandable because, as a young 'un, ALL your notions are preconceived. At some point it just turns into, "hey, how 'bout I just be me?" I don't know at what point, specifically, but somewhere down the line it just kind of happens. And as for all the "sweet parties?" Throw one party and you realize that the last thing you want to do is clean up after all your friends (provided you have lots). This is why people have their parties at restaurants after the en-wisen themselves sufficiently.
Sample Thought #3: "Of course I will have a spare one-point-two-five-hundreds-of-dollars to spend on a neon beer sign! Young, single men have things like that."
Sample Reality #3: Hahahahahahahahaha. Oh, please, stop it! You're making me cry a little bit. Hahahahahaa! Oh, pull the other one why don't you, it's got bells on!