Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Warm weather, or the reasonable facsimile I’m conjuring in my head, is almost nagging in the way it compels you to enjoy the outdoors, be active. If you don’t take a walk or offer a blood sacrifice to the mosquitoes, Mother Nature will cast a pall of guilt over you and straightaway knock you out the window, with nary a consideration for the importance of air conditioning.

But fall arrives, then winter, and suddenly being forcibly driven indoors is the thing to do. We hibernate like bears, fat and lazily content, our stomachs insulated with untold digital delights. One of my newfound hobbies, besides furiously testing whether the traction control system in my car really works, is enjoying the media I purchase. Gone are the days when DVD’s and games would sit unspun for long stretches of time. They are spinning now, believe you me, and I wanted to share two highlights.

So, Resident Evil 4. Yes, still. This has got to be the best 50 bucks I’ve spent in recent memory. I gushed about it back in August, finished it, shelved the game, and eventually dusted it off and burned through it three more times. You should know the game rewards repeat playthroughs, however, lest you think me an idiot savant. Some things just never get old–the roar of the shotgun, the feel of the gunplay, the difficulty that adjusts to ensure your adrenal glands do their job.

Since I must wait a good year for the second season of Lost, I decided to grab the first season of Desperate Housewives, which along with Lost has allegedly revitalized television. It’s created by the guy who did Golden Girls, though I’m not sure what that means, because like Lost it’s a hard show to parse. I’ll spare you the synopsis–I imagine I’m late to the table anyway–but the show is tenser than you’d think. Variety calls it “dishy fun.” That’s about as descriptive to me as labeling something “mindblowingly edgy.”

Dishy got me thinking about food, for some reason Dunkin’ Donuts, which subsequently made for a good simile. Lost is like the buttermilk donut in the dozen, dense and satisfying, whereas Desperate Housewives is that damn French cruller–just as sweet, perhaps, but packed with lots and lots of air. I must admit, however, there was a substantive revelation. Teri Hatcher? Unilaterally hot. Eva Longoria who?