Food woes and cool news

This blog post is about food. In all ways. Food is pretty awesome. Not only does its consumption allow human beings to continue surviving, but it also has the occasional decency to taste good while it's doing the job.

Of course, instead of taking the time and effort to eat properly, I usually just drown my pangs in a mixture of caffeine, carbohydrates and MSG. Occasionally, I'm bold enough to try something different – like cooking and stuff – but this is a purely artificial resolve that I try to conjure up because my doctors keep saying stuff like how I should be clinically dead right now.

For one, I'm sure that I've by now overdosed on caffeine at least six times.

Two litre Mountain Dew bottles have become the bane of my existence.

Not too many people are aware of this, but I have a thing for Mountain Dew that's basically borderline worship. I mean, the stuff is great and all, but it's still quite rare in most of the shops that I go to and even then it tends to be in cans (which aren't even nearly worth the money compared to the price of bottles).

When I arrived in Pretoria and learned that one of the gentlemen I was staying with regularly supped on the well-caffeinated fruits of BOTTLED Mountain Dew, it was basically over for me. I purchased a few gallons for myself, squirrelled them away in the fridge and began drinking. About five days later, I realised that I'd stopped sleeping. Or, at least, I was no longer prone to the bouts of narcolepsy that I've been oh-so-unfairly labelled by my friends as being subject to.

That, and peanuts.

This is a kilogram of peanuts. Also known as my survival rations.

Of course, that's not all I've been eating. Just last night, we decided to make a pasta dish. Today, I made the mistake of eating the leftovers.

Be warned, dear reader. Never finish leftovers in the Bat Cave. You'll be fined, guilt-tripped and cast into hell. Moreover, offering your comrades a kilogram of peanuts as compensation will not work. They'll simply pass commentary on how they have no food to eat that night, raising concerns in your tormented mind of waking up the next morning to the sight of a pair of emaciated corpses (still posed in front of their computers of course). And then, five minutes later, they'll douse the unnecessary fires of guilt by whipping up a fish and chip dinner for themselves. Asses.

This seafood is made of pure failessence.

Unfortunately, I'll have to leave my blog post at that, as I've surely just placed myself in great peril. My current companions both keep tabs on my writing, and one of them is a freaking ninja.

...

Oh, and before I forget: I got an article featured on Gamasutra, the face of the world's largest game development journalism conglomerate thing. I've apparently earned the label of “Expert”. The professional in me is unmoved. The aspiring juvenile in me is busy going “EEEEEEEeeeeeeeeee!”

Discussing the Gamasutra exposure with Dev.Mag's editor. Professional composure in action.

Totally sweet. But seriously? It's not just a personal pride thing: I'm actually genuinely stoked that Dev.Mag (the SA publication that I'm writing most of my game development stuff for) is making moves to establish a global audience, and I shall continue to update on Gamasutra with Dev.Mag reprints that I feel are pertinent. Hopefully this effort will serve as encouraging news for disillusioned SA devs and get them out of their shells a bit more.