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#26 HTFG: Sarah

Sarah Dietrich is Scott’s guest on HTFG. Sarah D. and her husband, Dave, were guests on S1: E5 of Heavily Pixelated, where they shared a painfully honest and super sad story. In fact, before you listen to today’s episode, you might want to listen to Sarah’s first appearance for context. You should bring some Kleenex with you. https://scottcjones.com/blog/?page_id=3473 How do S. & D. work from home, and tend to their two kids, and play video games all in the same day? Sarah offers parenting PRO TIPS for people like herself and Dave who are in the same (often poop-filled) boat….

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And then things got uncomfortably intimate…

[Going back in time on this one, folks. Been talking things over with my writing partner, finding things that I never wrote about and probably should have. So I’m filling in blanks here. [Just to get you situated, timeline-wise: I’ve had the stroke, had the open-heart surgery, and now I’m in St. Paul’s for a month, recovering before I can be transferred to rehab. What you’re about to read happened in April of 2014 or so. [Got it? Good. Here we go. -Scott] The ever-present eternal question from both doctors and nurses during my month-long hospital stay was this: Are you constipated? I…

A Brief Glimpse Inside the Mind of the Mature Man

I’m 47 years old now. Hard to believe, I know. Though I still look like a sweet little man-angel—for some reason I’ve got the drum-taut, dew-dappled skin of a pre-teen Swedish boy—it’s official: I am really fucking far away from being young. But I am not old, of course. I am ripe. I’m mature. And I’m also immature, too. A few marginally keen observations: I have this new kind of crepe paper-like skin around my eyes, particularly when I squint. I am horrified when I see it in photographs. Is that Burgess Meredith? I wonder. No, Scott; it’s just you and your newly wrinkled visage. Also: As we…

ST. PAUL’S REDUX

I brought reading material with me to the ER. All my life I’ve habitually brought reading material—usually an excess of reading material—no matter where I’m going. I can’t even run a simple errand without having at least one book and two or maybe three magazines on me. It’s something I learned to do as a child, back when we lived in a small house in the woods in Upstate New York. Living in “The Woods” meant that I spent a significant portion of my childhood—maybe 20 or 30 percent of it—in the boring backseats of cars as my parents drove us to nearby cities—either Rome (20 minutes), Utica (45 minutes) or…

Man Vs. Donkey Kong: Day 34

Do you know what it’s like to stand in the middle of a packed gymnasium on a frigid February night in Upstate New York wearing a wisp of spandex, a jockstrap that’s a size too small for you, and some protective headgear? To have everyone you know–your parents, the girl you secretly have a crush on, your homeroom teacher–call out your name in unison? Because I do. (more…)

Man Vs. Donkey Kong: Day 30

For Christmas a couple years earlier, my mom and dad had given me a reading lamp that clipped to the headboard of my bed. I loved that reading lamp so much. At night, after dinner, I’d sometimes go to my room, shut the door, and get under the blankets and read. Because our house was heated by a woodstove, having the door closed to my room meant that I was literally cut off from the heat. I didn’t mind. The colder the room got, the more blankets, afghans and quilts I’d pile on top of myself. I read the usual…

Man Vs. Donkey Kong: Day 21

I quickly discovered that wrestling was a much more intimate sport than football was. Instead of going outdoors to a breezy, hundred yard-long field for practice, you went into the school’s smallest, darkest, most claustrophobic room. Instead of wearing a uniform that was so bulky and dehumanizing you needed to iron the names of the players onto the back in order to tell them apart, you wore a thin piece of spandex and cotton (a singlet) that left nothing to the imagination. When the equipment manager handed me my singlet for the first time, I felt like a showgirl in…

Here Is Your Holiday Present, Everyone!!

R.I.P. Jones Report. You were not meant for this world.

Welcome to the new and improved version of The Jones Report. Only it will no longer be called “The Jones Report.” The Jones Report, as you know it, is now dead. For all early adopters and supporters of The Jones Report: I THANK YOU. It is gone now. The site served me well for many years. But now it is time for us to hold a pillow over its face like in the movie Million Dollar Baby. [Insert sounds of struggling HERE.] (more…)

The Last Time I Will Ever Write About Star Wars. (Ever.)

Two weeks ago I consumed all six Star Wars movies–the prequels, the tampered-with originals, the special features–in the span of 48 hours. Not by choice or because I’d temporarily lost my mind, but because I was reviewing the new Blu-rays for the show. I locked the doors, lowered the lights, and kept a pillow nearby in case I needed something to rain blows down upon and/or cry into. I pressed PLAY. And so it began. (more…)

The Most Terrible Games of 2010

>Every game starts off as a perfect 10. During those virgin moments when I’m loading up a game for the first time–Havok acknowledgement, Bink Video acknowledgement (what the hell is “Bink Video” anyway, and why do some many games seem to depend on it?), and so forth–my heart practically explodes with hope. (I wrote about this peculiar brand of hope in detail in this post.) I’m at maximum optimism, baby. I want the game that I am about to play to be nothing short of spectacular. I want my head to be blown off by how terrific the game is.Then,…