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But wait, there's more.
There's just no polite way to say "Buy me things", is there?
Need a band name?
rant is where the heart is
entry for 2001-08-01 (21:35:00)
In which our plucky young hero tonight is ready, honey.
Oh, just remembered.
I've come down with a new (up up up) addiction, one more (left right left left left) fiendish than any I've ever (up down up+down down) had to conquer in the past.
My friends, I am a man in the throes (left right+left right right+left left) of Dance Dance Revolution.
That's not to say that I'm any good at it yet (left down right up left down right+left aaaaaaaaacktripstumble), or that, you know, I'm even that consistently good on beginner level (up up pause up pause paaaaause).
DDR is, and I say this as a man who has dumped no fewer than two hundred dollars of his valuable money into Galaga and Ms. Pac Man and that gun game where you need to shoot the missiles out of midair while you're hanging from a helicopter, the best arcade game ever. It's sufficiently easy that you can get through a whole game if you want to. It's sufficiently difficult that you can end up just standing there saying "Er, I think I'll just try to memorize the arrows for next time, okay?" while the song plays.
But most of all, DDR is a game for all ages, and all genders. And any game that gets cute women bouncing around to perky J-pop is all right with me, dammit.
It's fun. It's energetic. Chyks love it. What more could you want? Don't just stand there, go out and find a DDR machine. You'll be glad you did.
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