Careers are like playing Mario Kart. As you drive, you’re picking up items—and
sometimes those items make you go faster. But you can’t pick up any items if you
don’t hit the accelerator.
And the items are, like, projects in your career—or really, they’re like how people
interpret those projects, because the driving part is like working every day on those
projects, and the items are just what you get for all of your work. And sometimes
other people get turtle shells, and they aim them at you, and you get hit and blow up
and scream a lot.
And then there’s a finish line, and I don’t know what that means. Death? Like you
die for real and your career’s over?
But then you don’t want to drive fast. Driving fast kills you.
Which is true about real life sometimes.
But is driving fast like getting into drugs and women… and items are like harder
drugs and harder women?
Harder men actually makes sense.
No it doesn’t.
Mario Kart is like relationships.
Most of the time, you’re just driving. Things are good, you feel like you’re going
somewhere.
And there are boxes.
And in those boxes are awesome.
What I mean is that sometimes you come across some power-ups that help you in the
race. Like, they make you go faster.
Faster’s always good, right ladies? I can’t help it if it means I finish the race sooner.
I’m in it to win it! Is it really all my fault if you don’t finish?
The race, Liz. I’m talking about Mario Kart.
Because I’m making metaphors between my life and video games.
It’s not silly.
It’s—it’s important. Okay. Please don’t smirk.
Thank you.
Or in one of the boxes you get some banana peels, which is like laughing together at
little mistakes instead of making fun of me for every single weird thing I do so that
I can’t wait to get a blue shell so YOU’LL STOP MAKING FUN OF ME after I
BLOW YOU UP and pass you for a better position.
Or… where are you going?
Mario Kart is like apologizing.
I… I’m really sorry, Liz honey, really. I really don’t mind that you poke fun at me for
my metaphors or for constantly mentioning all of the stuff I keep in my pockets.
Because that stuff in my pockets is like items I’ve picked up that I’m going to use
later because I don’t want to attack anyone now, but I will later. You bet I will.
Liz. Liz!
C’mon, it’s all a joke. C’mon.
Liz?
Liz!
If you keep walking there’s no way I’ll catch up to you without using a blue shell!
A blue shell of apologies! I’m sorry!
Mario Kart is like sexual frustration.
What’s in all those boxes of awesome? Banana peels.
If there are all those banana peels, where are all of the bananas going? I never
see any bananas getting any use. None at all. Those bananas are like missed
opportunities.
You’ve missed so many opportunities.
WHY DON’T YOU USE THE BANANAS EVER?
I’m sure they’d be as much fun as banana peels. Or they’d give you energy.
Potassium helps you concentrate, right?
I’ll let you finish first, second, and third tonight honey, just come on PLEASE.
The banana! C’mon. Just let me put it back in the peel.
Don’t forget, there are 6 other people in this race with us. In Double Dash, there are
14 others.
So I guess Double Dash is what relationships are actually like, because I could partner
with any of the other racers if you don’t stop wasting banana opportunities. Because
we have to work together in order to win this race! We’re both on this go-kart
together, and we have to drive like it and sometimes throw things at other people if
we’re ever going to make it to the end!
Yes, maybe that means my banana is being used by other people. Maybe.
But mostly not.
Liz, nobody else is using my banana. Seriously, Liz, no one else is taking advantage
of all of the banana opportunities you’re ignoring.
I didn’t mean ignoring. I know, maybe I deserve it.
Okay, I deserve it.
But what about the BANANAS.
Mario Kart is like accusations of infidelity.
I KNOW I talked a lot about my banana.
And I know I said something about throwing bananas at other people.
But no one else is driving over my banana. I swear, Liz.
I just… a Mario’s got needs, hon. And I’m sorry if sometimes I get a golden
mushroom and it doesn’t seem like I’m worried about pushing you off the bed.
And the different laps are progressing sex acts.
THE WHOLE POINT of these is that they’re metaphors, hon! I can’t stop trying to
make them all make sense in regards to MarioKart or other trademarked properties
because otherwise they wouldn’t be metaphors!
THAT’S WHAT A METAPHOR IS, LIZ. TRADEMARK VIOLATION!!
Yeah, well, sometimes you don’t finish a course because you’re already so far behind
that fuck it, why bother, except that you don’t even let me try the next course unless
you finish at least one, no matter how disgraceful it’s going to be.
And the finish line is dying your little death.
NO, YOU go die your little death!
Or you have to witness a thing called a Birdo and your pet dinosaur have sex.
(oral)
BECAUSE THEY’RE IMPORTANT, LIZ!
The original Resident Evil is like relationships.
All of a sudden you’re in this house and problems are trying to eat you. And it
wouldn’t be so bad, except that there are all of these severe camera angles hiding
problems from you, so even if you want to talk about a problem, you can’t look over
there, because she doesn’t want to talk about it right now.
So you walk over there anyway and a problem tries to eat you, OF COURSE.
Sometimes you kill a problem and you’re sure it’s done, but then one day you’re
just walking down the hallway and up it pops again, SPRINTING AT YOU WITH
TEETH, and you have to shoot it in the head like you should have the first time
around.
But of course you can’t shoot anything in the head because you can only point at
45-degree increments—so even though you know EXACTLY how to deal with the
problem you can’t do it. You just have to aim, miss, and then listen to the problem
teeth you to death.
And sometimes all you want is a Jill sandwich, but then it’s game over.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012 at 01:26PM 
