Goat Simulator and a Frightening Revelation


Goat Simulator: The Face of a Winner

If you haven’t yet heard of Goat Simulator (1) WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? It’s been all over the internet for the past week, and (2) Let me explain it to you. It’s a game in the vein of the Tony Hawk Pro Skater, except instead of playing a skateboarder, you play a goat, racking up points by doing wacky stunts, headbutts, jumps and licks (yes, licks – and strangely, everything sticks to your infinitely extendable tongue).

The world you’re given to explore is full of surprises and adventures, plenty of things to ram your head into, and bugs that were intentionally (and hilariously) kept in the game. However after a few hours of play, I started to feel something weird, something unexpected. At first, it was a lot of of fun – I launched my goat into the sky on a firework, practiced a satanic ritual, played a few frustratingly short games of Flappy Goat, and headbutted/licked countless pedestrians and party-goers into a state of paralyzed stupor.

But after a few hours I started to feel it… At first it was just a twinge of repulsion. I like goats. But this one, with his dead, rectangular pupils and his lolling tongue…there was something about it that wasn’t right. The gas station he exploded, the people he set on fire – he left a path of terror in his wake. His destruction was immense, but not wrathful. He seemed to mean no harm. He was just a goat doing goat things. It was destruction for the sake of destruction, and through it all, I couldn’t see even a hint of emotion in his eyes.

Until I looked closer. For a moment I was transported into his little goat brain. We were trapped in the house that had the Coffee Stain


Goat Simulator: Goat Float

Studios logo on the outside (they are the ones that developed the game) – I guess it was supposed to be a replica of their office. I had navigated my little goat up the stairs out of curiosity, and accidentally knocked down a shelf. Everything around me came tumbling down, shelves, pictures, televisions and computers and desks. I had barely touched anything. At that moment, I noticed that the way my goat behaved made him seem almost scared. He was trapped in this house, in this world of humans. Everything around him was crashing down, the people who had been working at their desks just a moment ago were crumpled on the floor. Some of them cried out.

My goat tried desperately to get back down the stairs, but couldn’t find the way. The house was littered with furniture and confusion and I just wanted out. I felt it, the anxiety. There was no separation between the me and the goat anymore.

When I finally did escape, I reveled in my freedom, running up and down the road, trying to catch the attention of a passing truck, but to no avail. I saw a group of protestors around the corner and galloped towards them, bleating with joy and relief. Not a single one of them turned to look at my little goat self when I arrived. It was as if I wasn’t even there.  Did I live in a world where it was custom to ignore your average, everyday goat? If a goat came up to me on the street, I’m not sure how I’d react, but I definitely wouldn’t ignore it. Couldn’t they tell I needed their help to find meaning in this endlessly hostile world?

Then, without meaning to, I ran into one of the protestors. He went limp. I hardly even touched him! It wasn’t my fault! The other people around started screaming, and I panicked and clumsily tried to move in the opposite direction, but they were dropping like flies.

I decided I needed to get away, far away, to a place where I couldn’t mess anything up. I directed my little goat to climb a mountain. Trees obscured my view, but eventually the mountain became so steep that I could no longer climb it. I followed it, hoping to find some sort of overpass to freedom, but I found nothing. I realized then that I really was trapped. I was trapped in a limited world where no one even looks as me, and everything I do results in death and destruction.

And then it came to me.

This is Goat Hell. This is eternity. It all made so much sense now.

So now I address Coffee Stain Studios.


Goat Simulator: Lick and Drag

Your game is cute, but the metaphor is quite clear. I will no longer look into those dead, rectangular pupils and wonder what is going on inside that furry head. I know now. I’ve had a taste of Goat Hell and I did not like it, not one bit. The goat is an innocent animal trapped in a world it will never be a part of, a world where every attempt at kindness backfires horribly or renders another person immobile on the ground.

I now understand that Goat Simulator opened my eyes to a world I cannot unsee. I am frightened, yet strangely grateful.

What did you think of Goat Simulator?


When Cookies Don’t Turn Out

As I stamped them out, they looked perfect – little hearts with fluted edges. A usually-uncooperative shortbread dough was behaving well…a little too well, maybe.


I put them in the oven nervously. This is the part that makes me tense. I hate the oven. It’s fickle and so easy to mess up – we’re not friends.

And before long, they started to brown. Shortbreads aren’t supposed to brown! Too much butter! I cut them too thin! Everything was wrong.

They turned out hard and crispy, not flaky and tender like shortbreads should.

Nonetheless, they got devoured by a gracious family, who insisted they were delicious. They were, but I knew in my heart they weren’t perfect. I was mad. I had been careless. Baking was supposed to be a thing I was good at.

A week later, the cookies were gone, burning up in our bellies. I’ll remember my mistake, try not to make it again, add it to my list of failures and almost-failures, and be glad that it’s really hard to make a cookie taste bad.

One Percent

After writing on this  blog occasionally for a few months now, I realized I’m not even one percent of the way to one million words.

Which just goes to show that I don’t have a lot to say. If I did, I’d be writing here every day, overflowing with inspiration and insight.

As you can see, I’m not.

That’s ok though. One day, when I’m 103 and blogs are a distant memory, I’ll get there. One million words. And when it happens, I’ll explain WordPress to my great-grandchildren, and they’ll look at me like I have two heads.

Until then, I’ll keep plugging away, writing here and there, and hoping it isn’t all for naught. The world needs my words, right?


A Love Letter To You

I know that Valentine’s Day was five days ago, oh, don’t remind me. I already feel guilty about not writing this sooner, but Sweatpants, I figured that it’s better late than never. I know we’ve only been together for a few weeks now. I know you see my old pair crumpled in a ball in the corner, but I’ll never let that happen to you, Sweatpants. No, we’ll be together forever.

Your tag says “Saturday Pants,” but I wouldn’t mind spending every moment of every day with you, honestly. Slipping into your fleecy lining after a stressful day in dress pants is better than fresh cookies, better than hot coffee, better than a thunderstorm in August. And that’s saying a lot.

I like the way you make me feel, comfortable, luxurious, loved. I think about you when I’m on the phone with my boss. I think of you while I’m eating lunch. I think of you on my commute home. It’s our little secret. And of course you’re there when I arrive, right where I left you, just waiting to get back onto my legs. No one else gets me quite like that.

And for all of those out there who disapprove of our union, wearing Sweatpants at the grocery store is perfectly acceptable. Don’t do a double take when I’m seen with Sweatpants out in public, it’s absolutely normal. Sweatpants are sexy, and anyone who tells you otherwise is just jealous that you get to feel the loving embrace of a pair every day.

Maybe you prefer the drawstring ones, or the ankle-stranglers, in black or blue or grey or any shade of obnoxious neon. I don’t discriminate. You wear your Sweatpants and I’ll wear mine, and we’ll both be comfortable.

Sweatpants, you make me happy like no one else can. I hear the yoga pants, the running leggings calling to me, “Rachel, get up! Exercise! We neeeeeed you.” The shorts and capris yell “Summer is just around the corner, girl! How are your abs?” Pay no attention, Sweatpants. Just ignore them while I grab another brownie.

Into a Wormhole

I somehow cut fifteen minutes off of my commute this morning. The drive to work usually takes me between an hour and an hour ten.

Today, it flew by in fifty minutes.

I don’t remember passing the train station, or the mall. I was nearing my work, and the clock read only 8:15. It almost scared me a little. I thought maybe I drove straight through some red lights or something.

I couldn’t remember.

But I also couldn’t remember what I was thinking about during my ride either.

I figured I probably drove into a wormhole somewhere about halfway to work. I was really lucky that it spit me out a little further down the road, instead of in Bulgaria or on the Nile.

25 Things That I’ve Done in the Past 25 Years

Today, I turn 25, so here are 25 things that I’ve proudly accomplished in my life so far, in no particular order.

1. Graduated high school

2. Graduated college

3. Traveled to London

4. Traveled to Honduras

5. Learned to drive a car

6. Bought a car

7. Got a job, and another job, and another job, and another job, and another job

8. Lost a job

9. Climbed some rocks

10. Ran some races

11. Saw some concerts

12. Baked hundreds of cookies (quite possibly thousands)

13. Fell in love

14.  Got my heart broken

15. Learned to play piano

16. Attended weddings

17. Attended funerals

18. Wrote some stories

19. Smiled a lot

20. Made friends

21. Rode a camel

22. Lost friends

23. Made someone else feel good

24. Got kissed (hehe)

25. Adopted some cats

25 Things I Don’t Particularly Like

1. Asparagus

2. Misleading GPS directions

3. Stomach Flu

4. Crowded Places

5. Burned cookies

6. Stink Bugs

7. When I can’t find my sunglasses

8. Fighting

9. Extremists (any kind – they’re all the same)

10. Running out of “emergency chocolate”

11. Touching sticky things

12. Wasting paper

13. People who are mean to animals or other people

14. Popup ads (how do those still exist?)

15. Sticky notes that don’t have enough sticky to stick

16. Worrying about things that I can’t change

17. Replanting sharp cacti

18. Extinction

19. Really hot beverages

20. Wind

21. Dog breath

22. Entitlement

23. Semi-colons

24. Hangnails

25. Train wrecks