Infectious material, or “The Gift of Love”

So, Lisa picked up a really nasty cold at work, from one of the new starts (a tech, I think) who decided that he had to martyr himself in order to show willing at the new workplace, and thus spread the germs around.  I was going to lay into him here over that, but in earlier, more naive incarnations of my current self, I’ve done it a few times, even to the point of being sent home because no-one wanted some of whatever I’d got.

Anyway, the upshot is that Lisa has been off sick, and I’ve been here with here all the time, so it’s just a matter of incubation times before I myself succumb to similar symptoms (Ouch – note to self: watch the alliteration.  It’s OK though, I can just blame it on the germs).

Whenever she’s ill, she gets into a cycle of wanting to keep active (because apparently you should try to be up and active while getting over a cold) and do things, but she’s often too tired and sore and grumpy to work up the motivation to do anything at all.  So far the solutions have included breaking 160k on Bejeweled Blitz, and breaking into her season 1 set of Gossip Girl.

I was going to find a link for Bejeweled Blitz, but googling it just links to primarily sites explaining how to hack it for incredibly high scores.  Apparently using other people’s script to cheat at games is a kind of “meta-game” where you pretend that it’s actually you hacking into the game, like someone might do in a movie.  Really, it’s just cheating, something as old as dirt, but if you use a cool word and pretend you’re totally the master  of what it is you’re doing when you follow a page of instructions to install a couple of lines of script, then it’s apparently alright to ‘blog about how cool you are.

Actually, I will link one of them.  This is the link I decided to click on from that one Google search, and this is the one that annoyed me.  Hey guys!  You can totally cheat at this game, so why wouldn’t you?

Because it’s Bejeweled, primarily.  On a secondary point, cheating at it so obviously makes you look like a bit of an idiot.  Look at those scores; 92k, 95k, 100k, 101k, and oh yeah, six fucking million.  If you’re going to undermine the game to the extent that the score at the end is several orders of magnitude beyond the norm, you might as well just not bother and instead write little status alerts for yourself.

Bob Somebody just awarded himself 18 billion billion points!  Congratulations Bob!

People are actually more likely to congratulate you on this, if in a cheeky, ironic fashion.  Scoring 6 million at Bejeweled just marginalises the concept of a high score table.  Nobody wants to compete against, or congratulate, an out-and-out cheat.  It’s like those Flixster quizzes; I used to do them, and was really pleased when I did a Back to the Future one in a silly short amount of time (although that does make me kind of sad).  The high score table for that?  Dominated by people who had apparently answered it all in 0.01 seconds.  What’s the point?

Anyway.  Gossip Girl.  I can tell Lisa likes it, because she was up past 1 am, sick as she was, watching episodes of it.  I managed to half-watch two episodes before I found myself too annoyed to stay in the room with it.  I don’t know if I’ve ranted about this before, but I get really wound up by the way a lot of tv shows operate on the premise of general stupidity on the part of the cast.  No one has any foresight, empathy, feels guilt, or does anything remotely human in the show; everything that happens is an emotional MacGuffin, something to move the plot forward.  Look, here’s the Bitchy One!  She’s bitchy!  Ooh we don’t like her but no one except the heroine seems to notice!

I particularly liked how everyone gets over the incident of an attempted rape  really quickly because they want to keep the antagonist as a major character.  “Ooh!  He’s all mean and arrogant, but that’s kind of cool right?” the show is asking us.  Was I the only person watching the second episode going; “wait, what – he attempts to rape someone, and people are fine with this?”  Even the protagonist characters who intervened on the victim’s part seem almost blase about it; after pushing the guy over at a brunch, it’s kind of forgotten.

The reason for all this that is foisted on us again and again by the show is that communication is just not the done thing, so nobody tells anyone anything and the viewer is left to stew in frustration as the plot barrels idiotically forwards under the guidance of a invisible, but still smirking, narrator who sounds exactly like the sort of person I’d throw a drink over at a party, then go to the bar, buy another drink and, if she was still there, toss that one too.

I wonder if this is how Lisa feels when I sit and watch stuff like Band of Brothers?