Me preparing to play "Super Tecmo Bowl" on my new 51" HDTV. You can tell its brand-new because of the random box crappings all over my floor, indicated by the orange arrow.
I don't know if I told you, but last week I celebrated a birthday. My 27th birthday to be exact. And how did I celebrate? You mean, other than eating lots of baked goodies that people brought to me at the office, like cinnamon rolls and cookies and stuff? Other than reading the cards? Well...
I bought myself the birthday present to top all other birthday presents: a 51" big screen HDTV. Its a miracle of widescreen awesomeness, and probably the largest HDTV ever. I know its the best, because I only judge on the "is it in my basement?" scale of awesomeness. And since it is in my basement, it is awesome.
When my friend Cliff and I went to pick it up at Wal-Mart, it was windy as all heck, a minor problem when you plan on placing a giant box in the back of The Colorado.
I know, I know, Wal-Mart sucks, but when you're dropping $1000 on an item, you gotta go with the home of low prices always. Principles are fine and good, but sometimes saving money takes precedence over quality of shopping experience. Plus I had a big stack of gift cards that I'd been saving up for just such a purchase.
So I'm checking out, and Cliff is playing the demo video games in the next aisle over. Tekken 86, "The Baddest Tekken Yet!", or something. He comes back a minute later, declaring for all to hear that the controller felt gross and deseased, and that he refused to touch it. Sound decision. Those controllers on the video game demo stands are well-used. {INSERT YOUR OWN CHEAP HOOKER JOKE HERE} Best to rent a game to try it out, instead of touching those things and getting nail fungus or something. Then you'd have to drop $50 at the doctor, and you won't have the cash to actually buy the game you were trying out. Bummer.
We get it out to the parking lot -- two stockpeople are ready to load it into The Colorado -- and they impressively manhandle the 150 pound box. The wind is gusting at 40 MPH, and the TV is going to tip over, and I have neglected to bring along any bungee cords. I could go back inside the store and spend five bucks to protect the thousand bucks investment, but no! I'm Tom, so I just gently tipped the TV myself so that the wind wouldn't do it. The wind is never gentle. Remember that, kiddos.
The TV arrives home safe, and Cliff and I decide that we need a third person to help out with the actual getting it into the house. We call Mr Macho Muscles Man, my brother Matt. We neglect to tell him its 51" -- he thinks I'm getting the same size HDTV they have, a 30"er. We want to see the look on his face when he sees the largeness.
Sadly he has no reaction. Just a "you got a big guy, eh? lets get it in." This is likely due to his dinner plans with the wife, which I was delaying with my new TV. She was very cool to allow me to delay the dinner plans. You bet.
So we get it moved in. What do we christen the TV with? The awesomeness of ESPN-HD? The baddassness of HBO-HD? The natural wonder coolness of Discovery-HD?
Super Tecmo Bowl, on the old original NES. (Remember who you're talking about here, folks. Would you really expect anything else from me?) I'm telling you, the 8-bit Nintendo Entertainment System never looked so grand as it does stretched to widescreen and blown up to a whopping 51".
In an epic battle that was displayed big enough so as to leave no doubt as to the outcome, My New York Football Giants defeated the mighty Glypha Army 49ers 19-0. The maiden voyage of the Polyfro HDTV was a domination of skill and speed. A textbook destruction the likes of which few eyes have ever witnessed before, or likely ever will again.
The Domination, in progress! The TV is still brand new, as indicated this time by the orange arrow pointing to the plastic bag that entombed the TV in its box.
The proof! Not a good photo of me, but if I'm gonna publish it when I'm looking sexy, I got to publish it when I'm looking bad too. Damn you, droopy red eyes.
As his girlfriend graciously allowed us to play a rematch by falling asleep, we hooked up the Playstation2 for some NCAA Football 2005. My boys from Iowa City against Voss' boys from Lincoln. Iowa vs Nebraska, from virtual Kinnick Stadium in Iowa City.
And once again my foot came out brown from kicking his ass. 27-10, Iowa. His gameplan included punting just once, despite repeatedly going 3-and-out inside his own 30. Cliff excused his poor play by saying he spent the entire first half learning the controls after a long layoff from playing that particular game. A fair excuse, although it would help to stop giving me the ball in the red zone because of a stubborn refusal to punt. So as I went upstairs to use the bathroom, he put on the tutorial to learn how to crush me.
The rematch took place at virtual Memorial Stadium in Lincoln. The result was the same, more domination by me. 24-12 this time, he actually punted several times in this game. Curious, considering he was playing at home; it would seem the time to be agressive with the special teams would be at home, and you would play it safe on the road. Hmm. This game was not as close as the score indicates; Glypha was 2-18 for 1 yard passing. One yard. The graphic overlay still had the column header "YDS" even though the number was singular. Apparently no one ever got just one yard before. Both of his touchdowns came when I took a chance in the passing game by throwing into coverage resulting in a pick, which he promptly ran back each time.
I felt bad after whopping his butt by a combined score of 70-22, so I took everyone out to dinner at Chipolte, my treat. The least I could do!
Happy Birthday to me!
Midday Edit: Cliff, you know I'm just giving you a bad time, right? I seem kinda harsh there, on second glance, but it is funny, so I'm leaving it.
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First movie watched in big screen awesomeness: Rocky III. Mr T is even more menacing when his head is bigger than yours. Second movie watched: Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Hadn't seen that one in a couple years.
Movie guaranteed to be never watched: Legend.
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