Sunday night: Will’s in the studio so I’m left to represent Team Medlar Racing on my own. I go for the throat of the professional series Boxter races with the RUF CTR2. It’s nice to be racing again rather than lapping the competition time and time again. Needless to say, the boxters ate the RUF’s bomb. There are 16 events left to finish in Gran Turismo 3 and I’m determined to finish it before the end of July. You hear that, Will? END OF JULY GODDAMMIT!

The site looks different but the idea is the same. I’m happy to see that there haven’t been too many posts over the past couple of days as the weather in Boston is finally sunny and warm.

Let’s not forget to go see Will and the rechargeable battery behavior-inspired band THE MEMORY EFFECT tomorrow night (Monday June 30) at Charlie’s Kitchen in Cambridge. Be there or get a boot in your neck. At least that’s what Will tells me.

Another one eats the bomb. My hat is off to Bungie for an all around excellent game. The final sequence of this game makes it worth every ounce of effort. I haven’t unleashed such wholesale ammunition since DOOM.

Ghost Recon… I need this game like I need a hole in the head. Now it’s shortcut sits on my desktop and taunts me. I promised myself I wouldn’t play it today, and I’ve already played it twice. Will and Jeff knew about the disease; knew the crippling symptoms, knew that you can never go back. . . but they said nothing. They just sat and watched as another naive gamer entered the fold. Now I’ve got the GRDT’s and nothing will stop the shakes except sitting for an hour in a polygonal bush waiting for that pixel in the distance to come out from behind the rock so I can shoot him. Damn you crickets! Damn you all to hell!

Damn you couch! Damn you to hell!

As Will mentioned earlier, he Tim and I took a trip to our favorite vacation spot: The Mountains of Russia. You know the ones. The trip got off to a shaky start as Will accidentally fired his rocket launcher in the direction of a family camping ground. It was not a total loss, however, as his rocket cooked the campers’ fish to perfection. Note: Russian filet knives are very sharp as Will learned when he dropped one on his foot. Special thanks to Mike R for the recon on the campground. They did, in fact, have folding chairs.

Tim and Will were very good about not shooting the hostages, and very good about shooting everyone else. Halfway through the trip, we did catch up with our old buddy Stumpy
the one-legged pilot.

And what vacation photos would be complete without the classic panoramic shot
and the obligatoryEAT MY BOMB?

There’s a surprising dearth of entries on the old bomb list. I thought I’d throw in an update.

Plenty of gaming action over the weekend, as Tim, Jeff, and I tackled Ghost Recon missions a-plenty. Jeff captured some tremendous screenshots, which I’m sure he’ll be sharing soon. Tim actually hauled his PC over to Jeff’s place so as to smooth the team communication for more efficient Russian smoking. That, my friends, is committment.

On the GT3 front, another nailbiting endurance race was polished off. 2 full hours of beating the crap out of the competition in Rome. The big challenge was handing off the controller in trade for the newest copy of Macworld every half-hour. I think the next closest finisher was 6 laps behind. A burning question was answered as Jeff managed to smack head on into one of the other competitors and force them into the pits. Strategery. Next time, we bust it old school and bring our old Camaro out of the garage.

Right now, and at least until next Tuesday, the only thing that’s chowing dynamite is my guitar…

I’m off and running on Hitman 2: Silent Assassin and it’s turning out to be a great followup to the first Hitman game Codename 47. Tobias has dusted off the old equipment and started taking contracts in Russia. Listen, I didn’t plan it this way, ok? It just happened.

My job here was to assassinate two Russians, a general and an informant, both arriving in limousines. The first one was a no-brainer. I ran out in front of the general’s limo and let it hit me.

Nnnoooooo!

The general got out of his limo screaming, “Oh Jesus Christ, dude! What if my parents find out? I don’t want to go to jail!” So I rolled around on the ground and cried until he let me ride in the limo. Once inside, I planted a car bomb in the wet bar, helped myself to a Zima, then opened the side door and did a tuck-and-roll. I got banged up a bit jumping out at 40MPH, but the job was done.

I found the driver of the informant’s limo standing in a corner taking a piss. I approached him and told him that I needed some directions. He took off his shirt and asked me if I thought he was hot. I promptly punched him in the stomach and anesthetized him with a rag and some Zima. He passed out and kept giggling in his sleep so I dragged him to a manhole where he’d stay quiet.

Sleep tight, Yevgeny.

Now that I had the driver’s clothes I was home free. I got into the informant’s limo and planted the car bomb under the in-dash DVD player. For good measure I farted in the driver’s seat.

So two more Russians blown up and money in the bank. It’s a good thing.