Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Socks the Cat Rocks the Hill

Socks the Cat Rocks the Hill is a Europe-exclusive video game for the Super Nintendo Entertainment System and the Sega Genesis.

The game stars Socks, the pet cat of 42nd US President Bill Clinton, and his family, in a platforming adventure in which he has to make his way past spies, crooked politicians and the media to warn the White House of a stolen nuclear missile.


Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Be nice to Eric or he won't be nice to you.

Phantom of The Mall: Eric's Revenge: 1989
Starring Pauly Shore.

A guy called Eric owns a huge house and some greedy people want to build a mall over it. So they get someone to burn down his house. Eric is badly burned but not dead, and a year later the mall opens. What they don't realize is that Eric is living underneath the mall and he's very angry.

Budget: $3,000,000 (estimated)

Sunday, August 18, 2013

In defense of the Man Child

They say that women seek men like their fathers and men seek women like their mothers.  I laugh at myself and how true it is.

I was raised by a goofy man child.  My dad is a funny, irresponsible, lovable, childlike goofball. Throughout my childhood he would screw stuff up but I still think he's the best because he was always so adorable and fun about it, and that's how I like a man to be.

Yesterday I went to a little girl's 1st birthday party.  Her dad is someone I grew up with, alongside his brother, male cousins, and male friends.  I don't see them often anymore, but our parents were friends and so we'd play together as kids, and they were the closest things to brothers I'd known.  Eventually in high school, we had all our best memories together, and some of my life's greatest moments involving beer.

We are all in our early 30s now, and many of us look exactly the same.  Most of them stayed in the suburbs and still see each other - and I don't see them often.  I love my suburban roots, and love these boys.  I love em enough that it makes me both pissed and sad that we aren't a bigger part of each other's lives.

I sat at a table drinking beers with these boys in the NJ suburbs, a swimming pool all blue illuminating the darkness behind the deck.  Baby and his in-laws snoozing inside on the other side of sliding doors.  The house that belonged to my friend.  To my friend who used to launch shit off his parent's roof and play a game called "treason" where punishments were exacted amongst the group.  I wondered if we could launch shit off this house's roof now that it was his.

I was struck by my friend's sameness. Not just in appearance, but all the words falling out of his mouth were the same funny immature bullshit I enjoyed so for many of my formative years.  I appreciated his level of drunkenness and how it allowed him to access the most childish and crude parts of himself, which are my favorite.  I don't recognize him as well in a suit on the various normal occassions one has to put on a suit throughout life.

At the table was another boy from that group that I always had a huge crush on, but for most of our teenage years he wouldn't kiss me back, something that was absolute torture - fun torture of course, for so long.  And there he was across the table, also seeming exactly the same.  This time he was flirting with another girl.  

There was a glimmer of feeling in me, remembering how I used to feel.  Knowing that one day, there was a moment after college when I did get to kiss that boy who I always wanted, and he was as immature as I should have expected him to be.  

Actually now this sounds disgusting.  Like bad chick lit.
I'm editing out so many memories and pervy details and history - there's too much to say and I'm keeping it away from typed words. I'll preserve that for printed photographs and shit the internet doesn't get the privilege of absorbing.

The history I have with these guys is ridiculous and there's only one reason I'm hashing any of it out right now.

It's because of the moment I sat at that table last night I realized that my epidemic life long love with the man-child isn't just because my dad was one too.

I was raised by a village of man-children.

My dad, these boys, their friends.

All of my formative years I was surrounded by a silly fucking wolf pack who made me laugh, got into trouble, broke shit, shirked adult responsibilities, listened to rock and roll and found adventure with.

Today, and throughout all of my days, I've befriended more man-childs in every area of my life.  My best friends to this day are different man childs who I met as a grown up.  One of my favorite new friends is an even older man child who is addicted to 20 year old girls but makes for a great drinking buddy. Maybe I'm just always seeking brothers to fight through life with.

Today my neurons erupt when stimulated by stupid boyish shit - that I both love, and always felt so broken hearted by - a heart break I embrace with its poetic familiarity - that I'm  not a boy.  I'm not a man.  I'll always be that girl.  And I'll always fight to make sure people know girls have man-children inside of them too, and they are better for it.

Women have masculinity and mischief inside them, and nothing makes me feel more alive than when that side of me is awakened.

So I have a stupid history of falling in love with immature peter pan syndrome motherfuckers.
But I just love it and will forever.  I'm one of them too, I just pee sitting down.

And I think maybe, when the time is right, I'll catch one of my own, falling from the sky, the moment that a light bulb goes off inside his head about wanting to be extra nice to one girl in particular.  

Man childs do get married eventually.  It's how and why I exist.
But what happens to them when they are forced to do grownup things?
What will happen to me when I'm forced to grownup things?

Weddings and babies make me throw up in my mouth at the same time I long for them. 

Maybe grown up man childs are nachos.
We are nachos.
All kinds of bullshit thrown together to be awesome.

Versus something like a PBJ.  Which is more like not-man-childs-but-man-mans do babies/marriage.  PBJ sandwiches are good and tasty, not awesome.

Nachos kick ass.
At their best.

Some get soggy.

And so forth and onward goes the discussion when you compare human social phenomenom nam nams with nachos. 

Thursday, August 08, 2013

Just say NO to IRL.

I started blogging in 2004.


9 YEARS AGO I wrote the words I went to this place called "Max Fish" this weekend and I really thought it was a fun place.

We keep trying to figure out wtf the internet means and its impact.  And there's THINGS that become THINGS and there's this THING I've been experiencing for years from the internet and now it's time you know about it.

I have a shit ton of internet admirers.
Before you go thinking of this as bragging and fucking hate me and stop reading - pull the reigns horsey ...

In real life, I experience true rejection, failure, loneliness, and pain JUST LIKE YOU and on a regular basis.  I go to bars and think someone is cute and they don't like me back.  I have doucheybaggy guys who send me douchebaggy texts who turn out to be disappointments and douchedouches.  JUST LIKE YOU.

After all, I'm 32 years old and single, go on ahead and judge me for it, my brain has had the same hater thoughts too.

even if I feel shitty about that fact, and lonely sometimes, and desire dudes and sweet action - there's one thing my stubborn ass refuses to sink to:

Yep.  Even when the going gets tough, I know that hooking up with whatever is available, versus what I really want for myself - won't get me anywhere.
And I know that even when someone is good on paper, if you don't feel any feelings or excitement over someone, it really can't be forced.
And I feel NO EXCITEMENT over internet interactions, and I just can't do the online dating thing.

At this point this is all just a preface.  I haven't even gotten into it.

And also shutup if you look at things differently.  This here is MY perspective.  Go on ahead and have your own, OK Cupid yourself to completion if that's what you want.  I'm not judging you.  This is my me-time.

Now that you know Heather Fink's personal details about her personal dating preference: AKA abstinent until presented with WHAT I WANT AND NOT SETTLING FOR LESS.
and the fact that she isn't above desiring human connection - let's get to what she is above:


Ever since 2004 when I started blogging, I had followers and an online presence, and back then a lot of people couldn't understand why someone would blog in the first place.  And back then strangers from the internet read my stuff and emailed me.

Some of the emails have been wonderful and useful.

I even got the best paying dayjob of my life based on the blogging and social media stuff I was doing back in da day.

What I also got were lots and lots of requests from male gender people wanting to meet in real life who got angry when I didn't agree to it.
Aside from this one famous person I ended up dating who messaged me on facebook but he was an exception because he was famous and hot.  WHICH MAKES ALL THE SENSE IN THE WORLD AND IS DIFFERENT YOU WOULD DO IT TOO FUCK IT I WAS IN MY 20s IT'S TOTALLY NOT THE SAME.  DAMMIT THIS RUINS MY CREDIBILITY IN MY RANT WHY ALL CAPS WHY WHY WHY because one of the internet's primary communicative uses is to brag.

Someone says: Can we meet some time?
I say: Sorry but I don't meet with people I don't know from the internet.

And I want to be clear about that because I want people to understand why the rejection, and not be hurt, and perhaps by me communicating my point of view on this - instead of going through life being creepy and inappropriate with women, they learn better social skills and improve their approach.  FIXING THE WORLD THROUGH HONESTY YES!  I'm so stupid for this because it always backfires.

They get really pissed at me, and sometimes retaliate in bold ways on the internet (like this one guy who posted graphic and disturbing posts all over craigslist claiming to be me, leading to days of spamming and grossness).
I've tried to be more gentle with it but a lot of the people who want to meet in real life are very pushy and persistent and don't get the point, and then I feel like there's no damn way to escape AND I'm afraid - totally afraid - that one of these randoms ends up stalking me and seeking out revenge.

These requests used to come in the form of emails and some of them are the most hilarious, disturbing crap you will ever see.

Nowadays it's primarily INSANE facebook messages (including one with an attachment of a painting of my face?!) and extremely persistent guys asking over and over again to see me.

Does this feel real?  Does this feel complimentary?

NO.  Because these people don't even know me at all, and most have never even seen or spoken to me.  Their interest in me is as superficial as it could possibly be.  And this type of flattery isn't as present in my daily, aging, don't-fit-into-my-old-jeans-anymore life.  I'm surrounded by NYC men who are the most spoiled non-committal pains in the asses on earth.  God bless their ambitious intelligent little tight pants covered hearts.

Why does this keep happening?
Can I get it to stop?

I love using facebook and the internet.
It's a wonderful tool for networking and collaborating and keeping in touch with people in my life.  It's a fantastic way to reach out to people who want to get involved in creative projects.  It's a wonderful way to promote your work and connect to others.

Because I want to connect to others too!

Connecting, collaborating, sharing intelligence and ideas.  GREAT.  It's a very useful tool.
I love how I can look up an actor that I like, and sometimes find them on facebook and cast them in one of my films.
I love that I can meet someone and follow up with a facebook add, and then learn more about them and keep in touch.

I don't expect anyone on facebook to give me their personal in-real-life time.

It actually makes my skin crawl when someone can't read social cues. I'm sensitive to them, I've felt excluded, and I don't want to impose on others or invite myself when I'm not welcome.  BECAUSE I RESPECT PEOPLE'S BOUNDARIES.  I know that I don't know what's going on with someone at any given time, and they have the right to their personal space.  They have the right to not be in the mood for me.

So I'm asking all of you out there in the world who don't understand this to UNDERSTAND IT.

  1. I'm busy.  Lots of people I know are busy.  When I have precious free time it's either: me time OR me close friends that I miss OR family time.  I know that when you're not busy it feels lonely and like death - but don't let that desperation turn you into an annoying person.  Instead, try to fill your life with a meaningful activity or job.  
  2. I read the internet.  I know bad stuff happens to people who meet up with strangers from the internet.  CANNIBAL COP. CANNIBAL COP.
  3. I'm mad that you, person asking for my time, don't get it.  It feels rude and disrespectful.  I also hate being annoyed by people when I'm busy.   I have to really know and like someone to want to get a bunch of texts from them.  Large quantity of communications is not for me.  It's irritating.  Don't be a bug.  Be a mensch.

So.  There's my perspective. If it wasn't for my fear of creeper retaliation I'd share some of the more hilarious ones with you.

Instead I'll share one line from an email sent years ago which is chock full of crazy and photos from the sender:
"I can't explain exactly what it is about you, but you look so familar to me... your eyes, the shape of your nose, flat on your face like a boxer.  "

Here's to hoping he stopped reading a long time ago.


PS - if you're reading this and thinking it's about YOU, it's not.  It's about years of dudes like you making me wonder why any of this needs to be explained, and then realizing, hey, maybe it just does.  

Props to all the ladies in this place who know what I'm sayin.