Way of the Warrior

I could safely say that my best non-work buddy is ScottyP. The sad thing is... I still work with him. We don't hang out much, and I don't have any real life outside of work.

What you don't know is how awesome ScottyP is.

Scott plays games. A lot of men my age do, that's demographics, again. Scott has a child, she's lovely, just a joy to watch. Her name? Marin. Scott isn't married, but he doesn't have himself a life partner, who goes by Amanda. She plays games, too. He owns a house. Has a car. And a budding career as a graphic designer/artist (and a damn good one, too).

Scott, so far, seems to have things under control. Much like any other responsible 24-30 year old male.

Until you talk to him.

Then you know that Scott is the most awesome-fucking-person in the world.

Scott... well... how do I explain this? Scott is the fucking warrior-of-today, except the dialog hasn't changed much.

His blade? A newly christened Xbox360 Controller. His dagger? A Nintendo DS. He's run special ops missions in Vegas, and defeated thousands of ninjas in combat, climbed mountains, murdered Gods and saved princesses. And if you ask me, I'd believe he's done it all.

So, to you ScottyP, I salute you, the Norman Mailer of our time. Now go kick some ass.