Oregon Fail

Get ready for a blast from the past. It’s 1994 and you’re back in elementary school. It’s Wednesday, so it’s time to go to the computer lab for activity. You have your choice of three games: Reader Rabbit (weak), Math Blaster (super weak), or everyone’s favorite–Oregon Trail.

It’s funny, I never remember actually seeing the cover of the game at school, but when I looked it up on Amazon, I was astounded at how awesomely detailed the illustration is on the front compared to the graphics of the game.

One of the best parts about Oregon Trail is that you got to name all the people in your wagon after your friends. So when the inevitable “Jenny was bitten by a snake” pops up on the screen, you can laugh and point at Jenny. Or you could just name your characters “Poop” and “Boogers.”

There were always crazy things happening in the game:

  • You ford the river every time, no matter how deep, and lose all your shit because you’re a cheap-ass and don’t want to pay for the ferry.
  • Suzy gets a broken shin bone.
  • You never buy extra wheels, and then, of course, you break a fucking wheel.
  • Somebody always gets typhoid fever and you spent all your money on hookers, so you can’t buy medicine for them.
  • You go out and shoot 50,000 buffalo like it’s fucking Duck Hunt or something. Then all your meat goes bad and you get dysentery.
  • You catch a venereal disease from one of the Indians.
  • You smoke peyote with Chief Black Foot and he jacks all your shit.

But it was always the best when this message came up:

No matter how you played the game, you never fucking made it to Oregon. And if you did, everyone hated you. In fact, we still do.

A quick hipster bash

After my Writing for the Web class, which should have essentially been called “Blog class,” I thought briefly about letting my blog die a slow and natural death.

I am the kind of person who, if not actually forced to do something for a grade, I tend not to do anything at all. It would be cute to say that updating my blog was my New Years’ resolution, but that’s not the case. Rather, I found something that made me audibly chuckle (ac: it’s the new lol because 0.001% of people actually laugh out loud when they write that). Because of my reaction, I thought that surely other people would enjoy it too:

“This blows. Let’s play Oregon Trail on the computer next time.”

The caption is obviously the best part. I found this image and the caption on a Web site called Look At This Fucking Hipster. It’s amazing. It’s a great site if you feel like wasting half an hour and–for some of you–laughing reflexively. I have to give credit to Lee Burbage, another writing major and author of The Pedicab Confessions, for pointing it out in class.

I’ve come to realize that my friends from back home have no idea what hipsters are and I find myself trying to explain it. While I could list some stereotypical attributes of hipsters, I’ll let this Craigslist post explain it to you in a much wittier way than I can.

The other day in class, Elyse Findley told a joke that I will never forget:

Q: How many hipsters does it take to screw in a light bulb?

A: It’s a really obscure number, you’ve probably never heard of it.

So that concludes my re-entry into the blogosphere. Stay tuned for an upcoming post about everyone’s favorite game from elementary school: Oregon Trail!