This entry will include spoilers for Iron Man 3.

Okay, Iron Man 3 has been out in theaters for 2 weeks, so I hope it’s fair game to discuss it in detail.

I want to start off by saying that Iron Man is my favorite live-action superhero movie. Period. It hit every beat perfectly for me.

I enjoyed Iron Man 2. I think it had a few missteps, but for the most part I really enjoyed it.

Then came Iron Man 3.

It’s only been two weeks, but when I ask myself, “What cool stuff happened in Iron Man 3?”, I can’t really remember anything. I think the action highlight of the movie was when Iron Man saves a dozen people falling from an airplane, but that was pretty much it. And yes, I’m including the huge action sequence at the end, because it felt completely empty and anticlimactic.

Here’s why: For more of the movie, Tony Stark isn’t in the Iron Man suit. Without him in the suit, the whole point of Iron Man is gone. Iron Man is fun because we wish we could climb into that suit and do amazing things. We believe we can do that. But if the suit operates just fine without the man, what good is the man?

That’s what the end of the movie feels like: empty. There are a bunch of robots fighting bad guys (the relentless types of bad guys who have no motivation other than to be bad) while Stark runs around trying to get into a suit. It felt empty, not climactic.

A big deal is made in the movie about how the suits can come apart, fly around, and come back together like in the Iron Giant. It’s a cool effect, but I really struggled with the idea that a piece of a suit could fly thousands of miles in just a few minutes using an internal power source…especially since that power source is in Stark’s chest, not the suit.

A big deal is also made about Stark’s broken suit. He spends most of the movie trying to fix his latest suit instead of wearing it (why did the writer think we wanted to see an hour-long stretch of movie without Iron Man?) And then at the end of the movie it’s revealed that he had about 40 suits ready at any time. Why didn’t he call one of them 30 minutes into the movie? He could have worn a different suit every 10 minutes and it would have been awesome!

I guess what I’m getting at is that I was really hoping to see an Iron Man movie. Instead I got a Tony Stark movie. Tony Stark is pretty great, but he’s not movie worthy by himself.

Overall, I’m sure you can tell I was disappointed by Iron Man 3. It had some good moments, a few funny lines, and impressive special effects as always. I just wish it had more Iron Man in it.

I don’t remember much about that day. I know that I coordinated a catered lunch for my group of friends and their families, and people seemed to appreciate the effort.

I don’t remember the day feeling like a climax to a grand collegiate experience, nor did it feel like the start of something new. It just felt like any other day, but with too many people around at all times.

Looking back, though, I wish I hadn’t taken that day for granted. A lifetime of quality eduction, endless support from my parents (both financial and intellectual), and so many friends and teachers along the way led to my graduation. Even though it wasn’t an eventful day, it was a day to reflect on the many blessings of my life.

Last night when I sat down for dinner, I counted those blessings. I rarely remember to do that–even though we prayed before every meal growing up, now that I live alone, as soon as I sit down, food is in my mouth.

But last night was different. Yesterday was a pretty incredible day for me thanks to an outpouring of support on my Kickstarter campaign. It’s the product of 8 months of hard work, as well as the time and talents of many people who contributed to creating the game. In the 12 hours between when I pressed the launch button and when I sat down for dinner, the project raised over $30,000–double my funding goal. I never imagined something like that would happen.

So I took a moment before dinner to literally count my blessings, something I should have done on my graduation day. Something I should do more often.

Thus I ask you today: What are you grateful for?

Some of you have never seen the show. Others watched the British version and didn’t like the way it translated to American English. Others may have watched until Jim and Pam got together and then stopped, while many others may have tuned out when Steve Carrell left the show. Perhaps you moved on after Season 8, during which the writers made a number of poor choices.

If you are any of those people, this blog entry isn’t for you. This one goes out to everyone who have stuck with the show until the end, laughed at least a few times every episode, and felt emotionally invested in the characters. This entry is for those who were lucky enough to make it to last week’s episode, which was easily one of the top 10 episodes of The Office ever. This is for those who await tomorrow’s final episode with hope and sadness, as it is the end.

I love the show. For all its faults, I’m there every week, rooting for Jim to prank Dwight, hoping for love to blossom in all the right places, accepting that new characters make sense in the context of an office and enjoying the journey I’ve had with those who have been with us since the beginning.

Michael Scott was a huge part of the show–he was the awkward, uncomfortable man-child manager around which the show rotated. But no one would have cared about the show if not for Jim and Pam and Dwight and all of the ancillary characters who had story lines of their own. Even characters like Creed who have absolutely no story arc gave the show some spice by being so weird.

I keep coming back to Jim and Pam, and I want to end them. Here’s what makes the show for me: Jim loves Pam so, so much. He’s not a perfect guy, as seen this season, but his love for her is epic. If I ever love a woman half as much as Jim loves Pam, I will tell the second greatest love story ever told. But Jim and Pam will always have the greatest love story.

Most of it is about Jim’s love, but a good part of it is that we get it. We love Pam too. She is not a 1-dimensional rom-com love interest whose appeal we don’t understand. With Pam, we get it. We understand why Jim loves her so much. We believe it.

To the writers and producers of The Office, thank you for 9 seasons of one of the greatest sitcoms ever to grace my TiVo. I will miss you more than you know.

Question for fellow Office fans (only answer if you don’t know the real answer): Do you think Michael Scott will appear on the finale?

You don’t read this blog to learn about board games–if you did, you’d be reading today’s entry over at Stonemaier Games. So I’d like to share with you one aspect of the project that you might find interesting even if you don’t care about the game.

I asked a musician friend if I could hire him to write a song about Euphoria for the Kickstarter project. I didn’t give him much guidance–I just told him that I needed a dystopian-themed song for a game called Euphoria.

The song that Aaron wrote and composed is beautiful and haunting. I think it’s brilliant. And because I could only include the instrumental version in the project video on Kickstarter, I want to share the full version with you here.

I haven’t even met baby Anna yet, but I will soon when I take a trip home to see the newest addition to the family. And I’m kind of bewildered by how excited I am to meet her. Especially since I’m considerably more interested in cats than babies at this point.

I often see people posting obsessively about nieces and nephews on Facebook (or on OkCupid, which is just confusing–is it your kid or someone else’s?), and I’ve always thought it was a little weird. They’re not your baby. You didn’t do anything to create the little heathen. So what’s the big deal?

But now I know. I can’t explain why it’s a big deal, but it is. It’s a huge deal.

A week after Anna was born, my mom said to me, “I just love her so much.” There was bewilderment in her voice–not that she’d love Anna, because obviously that was going to happen. But that she would love her as much as she did despite the degrees of separation. Now I understand what she meant.

Have you experienced this phenomenon? Can you explain it?

That’s all about to change.

Actually, that’s not true. But after watching Baz Luhrmann’s Gatsby this weekend, I want to attend a Gatsby party.

As a whole, the movie is decent–not great, like Gatsby himself–but decent enough. Yet the party scene about 15 minutes into the movie is stunning. I want to say it’s the greatest party scene I’ve ever seen. It’s certainly classier than Project X, which is basically one long party scene. It has more than one great moment, unlike She’s All That and Road Trip. It’s a much better cinematic experience than Animal House. And it’s less creepy than Eyes Wide Shut. What am I missing?

The Gatsby party just looks like rip-roaring fun. Have you ever attended a party like that? One where everyone let loose and had a blast, tomorrow be damned? Tell me about it.

Fortunately, everything worked out–she was able to make it with her boyfriend, and we all enjoyed a great show at a very cool, low-key venue. But when I left the house tonight on the way to the concert, I really had no idea if I would end up watching the concert alone or not.

I’ve written about being alone in circumstances like these before. I traveled to Ireland alone a year and a half ago, and although I enjoyed the freedom, I must admit that I felt very alone when I was out in public, particularly at restaurants. Two years ago I went to see Harry Potter 7.2 alone, and I rather loved it. There’s little to no interaction with other people during a movie, and I liked that I didn’t have to worry if the person next to me was as excited about the movie as I was.

I kind of felt that way about the Generationals concert. I could have called around at the last minute to scrounge up another friend, but I would have spend the entire concert wondering if they considered the time well spent. So I went alone. I bought a beer, sat down at a table, and enjoyed the opening band from a distance (like many opening bands, their speakers were turned up WAY too loud).

And you know what? It wasn’t bad at all.

Like I said, my friend and her boyfriend eventually showed up. But I was there alone for at least a half hour, sipping my Newcastle, watching the band, and thumbing through my phone during the break between bands. It wasn’t as great as being alone during Harry Potter, because a concert bar is a more open venue than a dark theater, but it was much better than the Ireland experience.

Have you ever gone to a concert alone? What types of public activities are you willing to do–or even prefer to do–alone?

Brenda and her father

This episode contains spoilers about tonight’s episode of Survivor. If you don’t watch the show or have already watched this episode, please proceed.

Let’s get this out of the way: Yes, I watch Survivor. I love games, and Survivor is the best game on TV.

A very interesting moral and strategic quandary occurred on Survivor tonight that I think you might enjoy. After winning a reward challenge, one of the remaining 6 contestants (Brenda) was prepared to receive a special reward with her father and one of the members of her alliance, Dawn, as well as Dawn’s husband.

Then Jeff Probst threw in a monkey wrench: If Brenda wanted, she could give up her reward (as well as Dawn’s) and give all four other survivors the same reward with their loved ones.

After pausing for a minute to let the question sink it, Jeff asked Brenda what she was going to do. Wiping tears from her eyes, she said, “Of course I’m going to give it to them.”

It was a moving gesture, and I applauded Brenda for it at the time. Unfortunately, because of the way voting works at the end of Survivor, Brenda’s kind action put a target on her back (it made her too likable, basically), and she was voted out at the end of the episode by the same people she had given the reward to (and Dawn, who was bitter despite being Brenda’s first pick to receive the reward in the first place).

Therein lies the quandary: By doing the “right” thing, Brenda was perceived as being too nice and therefore a frontrunner to win the million dollars, and she was voted out. Conversely, she could have chosen the wrong thing–to keep the reward for herself and Dawn–and the rest of the tribe would have either held it against her and voted her out OR perceived her as less of an end-game threat and kept her in the game. No one can say for sure what would have happened.

What would you have done?

Yesterday I learned that Google has set up something called an “Inactive Account Manager.” Basically, if your Google account (not just Gmail) isn’t used for a certain period of time, Google will declare the account to be “inactive.” Sometimes this will mean that you switched over to a new e-mail address. More often it will mean that you’re dead.

If you’ve set up your inactive account manager, one of two things will happen:

1. Everything in your Google account will be permanently deleted.
2. A trusted contact will be given access to your account.

Some of you may choose Option #1. You don’t want anyone looking through all the sexy selfies you took when you were young and spry, nor do you want people reading your e-mails. I get that.

I chose Option #2. Just in case. Especially since I’m responsible to customers now. I hope to live to a ripe old age, but if I get attacked by a mob of hungry koalas next week, I want to make sure that my Viticulture backers still get their games.

With Option #2, you’ll be prompted to enter a trusted friend or family member’s e-mail address. They won’t know you’ve chosen them as your Google beneficiary until your account becomes inactive, at which point they’ll get an e-mail. From you. From the past.

From today.

It was a tender moment for me to write my e-mail. It might seem a little morbid, writing an e-mail to someone that they will only read if you’re dead, but think of it more like Doc writing the letter to Marty that he receives at the end of Back to the Future II. It’s a chance to say hello and goodbye when you may have missed out on that opportunity in person.

Regardless, writing the e-mail is a surreal experience, one that you can only have by actually writing the e-mail. So if you’re an Option #2 type of person, go write that e-mail. Then come back here and let me know how it feels. I’m struggling to put it into words, so maybe you can do better than I.

I took this before I dug in–can you guess which one is grasshopper?

Today I found myself in a brand-new Mexican-fusion restaurant in St. Louis called Gringo. I’ve heard great things about it, and I noticed that they had pork belly on the menu. They serve pork belly a lot on Top Chef, and I’ll do pretty much anything to pretend I’m on Top Chef.

So as I was scanning the menu for the pork belly taco, I noticed something else: There was a grasshopper taco on the menu.

Normally this would be the object of a few jokes that would result in me ordering the alcoholic beverage called the grasshopper, which is cool and minty and delicious and has nothing to do with the insect.

But you may recall that just two weeks ago I posted a blog entry called “Would You Eat a Cricket?” about an innovative startup that’s trying to find creative ways to serve insects as food.

So I had to eat a grasshopper taco.

Now, I have to applaud Gringo for doing as daring as this. Bold move. Really bold move.

And when I took my first bite, my first reaction was, “Hey, not bad! This tastes like food.”

Then I took a bite of pork belly. Now that tastes like food. When I returned to the grasshopper, I realized rather quickly that the taste in my mouth was not deliciousness. The best way I can describe it is this: Have you ever butterflied a shrimp and pulled out that dark vein of shrimp poop?

It tastes like that. Grasshopper tastes like shrimp poop.

But I’m glad I tried it. If you live in St. Louis and go to Gringo, you should try it too. It’s certainly a unique flavor and texture. And then you get to tell everyone that you ate a grasshopper.