I am the biggest dork. . .

I'm like, the brontosaurus of dork. The Titanic of dork. The Steven Spielberg of dork.

I recently purchased "The Oregon Trail, Version 5." (I bought it at this hilariously random junk store in Half Moon Bay, but that's another post altogether.) The Oregon Trail was a treasured memory of my youth, and it was only a couple of bucks, so I just went ahead and bought, to much derisive snorting from my sister.

AND I'M TOTALLY RE-ADDICTED!!!

I know I'm completely outing myself as a computer geek with no friends and too much time on my hands, but that is okay if I can spread the Word Of The Oregon Trail, Version 5. It is sooooooooo muuuuccchhhhh fuuuuunnnnnn!!!!! (That's right, five, count 'em, FIVE exclamation points.) You can go hunting AND fishing AND gathering, and you buy all your clothes and food and stuff individually, and rafting down the Columbia is WAY MORE REALISTIC than it used to be.

In short, you may now know I am the Aaron Spelling of dork, but it's okay because The Oregon Trail, Version 5 is THAT GOOD.

The only down moment came when I was selecting an occupation for myself. If I chose to be a doctor, it described me as having "medical skills." A merchant has "trading skills." But a journalist? A journalist has "no special skills." Ouch.

In other news, here's an announcement, and y'all better pay attention (or I will bust out a full-fledged horrible southern accent on yo ass):

I HAVEN'T HEARD "FROM THAILAND." I DON'T KNOW WHEN I'M LEAVING YET. I PROMISE, PROMISE, PROMISE ON SID VICIOUS' HEAD THAT I WILL TELL YOU, OKAY? SO STOP BOTHERING ME PUUUULLLLEEEEEZZZZ!!!!