Rosie is leaning against the coffee table looking all unused and miserable. I'm watching and itching. Watching courier races on youtube, itching to be out there in traffic or a on climb, hurting, flying.
I want to skitch. Ever play Skitchin'? Haven't fucking lived till you've played Skitchin', folks. Fuck Halo III, like. Dust off your Mega Drives and get the fuck onto E-Bay to secure your copy. You'll have to be quick though. About two bizillion people read Gimme and every one of those fuckers will do exactly what I tell them.
So, in this video game, one controls a vaguely punky looking blob of pixels that hangs onto the back of cars while riding a skateboard. It's a simple concept and one clearly ripe for revisiting, with just one or two tweaks required. Such as the inclusion of graphics as opposed to odd looking boxes of colour that suggest rather than go as far as resembling cars and scenery. And the substitution of bikes for skateboards.
But I feel that even an instant reality shift which left me sitting here with a brand new PS3 and an updated Skitchin' would not be enough for me just now.
It's Saturday evening, folks and I'm the only grown up in the house. That carbon containing cutie winks her reflectors coquettishly at me from her coffee table lean (Common Law's not happy about this Rosie resting place. Not happy at all), aware, it seems to me, that only a cigarette could make her seem more seductive, more inviting, more ridable. I believe she wants me to take her dancing to Howth Summit so that she can find her limits and gaze on the city lights from afar.
And then a descent and a flirtation with foolish, deadly speeds. This is what she wants from me.
I cannot resist. The Bridge Crew will be fine, right? I mean, it's not like we're in Portugal.
Oh and when you have a chance, Toolio, I'm going to need my Sega back.
Single Minded Way
1 week ago