Black Ops is the best and worst game in the world.

I have come to this conclusion this very afternoon.  Black Ops and I have a bitter sweet romance that very often ends up with me screaming at the screen and flailing my limbs around.  Or sometimes dragging myself from the couch to the bedroom with red eyes at three in the morning.  Yet, somehow I end up romanticising the game and putting it into the PlayStation to wile away my precious few hours on a game that turns me into a raging mad woman.

This afternoon for instance I spent a full five minutes arguing with someone, who sounded like a prepubescent boy, about how he should turn his mic off while he eats chips.  For five minutes.  What is wrong with me? Why didn't I just mute him? Why didn't he mute me? Because Black Ops turns you into the Devil's spawn.  The swears that came out of his mouth!  The worst part was when I was telling him off I realised I probably sounded like his mother.  'Turn your mic off when you are eating chips!'  While I was at it I should have told him I would wash his mouth out with soap and roused at him for playing games instead of doing his homework. *facepalm*

When it comes to video games it's like I become a different person.  Like Jekyll and Hyde, I am a cute little girl who is into nice things and the moment Black Ops is on I become the power hungry, locked and loaded maniac who takes no prisoners.  When I play I pray for someone to tell me that I sound like a 10 year old boy so I can kick their ass and tell them how bad they must feel being beaten by a girl.  Or telling people to nick off when they find out I am a girl and try to be all nice.  Then I shut it off and go to work, chatting with patients and joking with old ladies that I am only called Samantha when I am in trouble. 

I even had one guy have a go at me for having the same name as him (Hambo).  What the hell dude? I added you two weeks ago because you thought it was cool we had the same name.  All Black Ops players are crazy people waiting to happen... And that is totally self confessed.

Pictionary, recommended with Alcohol.

Last night I had a friend and her boyfriend over.  We do this on occasion and, usually we drink bad wine, sing badly to eighties music and record ourselves being strange on my video camera.  Last night was no different.  After some really bad wine (we made the mistake of having the nice bottle of wine first) we started to play pictionary.  It was boys versus girls, so there was a lot at stake.  We warmed up our drawing hands and our brains and got into things.  This is what followed...

This is the first page.  I would like to firstly apologise to all the American and Canadian people out there who may be upset that my attempt to draw your countries ended up looking like an icecream cone.  Also, apparently the Canadian flag I drew looks like a marijuana flag.

 

This page was my favourite.  John's picture is in the top left hand corner and it is miniscule. I have no idea how anyone can even see the picture, let alone guess what it was of.  This is where the lamp came into things.  Now, I drew a vacuum cleaner.  It looks perfect to me, but according to everyone else it looked like some kind of future car.  So I decided to draw a lamp.  It was to make the point that it was indoors and for perspective.  No one knew what the hell I was talking about. 'A lamp? For perspective?' Everyone proceded to roll around laughing at me.  So, in the following pages where there looks like a lamp (or once like a large penis) that is actually a lamp. You know, for perspective.

As the night went on the pictures looked more and more like penis' and other rude body parts.  So the first guess for any picture was 'PENIS! NO! VAGINA! CRAP, NO! BALLS!'  If you ask me the egg beater one looks overly suspicious...  And the new catch phrase was 'Well, I would have got it if you had drawn a lamp for perspective...'

 

By the end of the night we were pretty good at drawing and guessing.  Even though John didn't get the Harry Potter drawing.  What a noob.  And Rachel and I got the award for best guess with fewest lines.  It was a hairdryer. Yes, we do rock.