Some time areound the third week of kindergarten, every child in the United States of America is asked what they want to be when they grow up.  And, in the whole history of our country, there have only been twelve different answers: Fireman, Policeman, the President, Ballerina, Astronaut, Movie Star, Rock Star, Doctor, Veteranarian, Teacher, Ninja, and Pirate.  Of course, most of them fail to realize that it takes an advanced degree from MIT to be an astronaut, people hate the police, if you aren't already a ninja, you never will be, being a ballerina means no life and really bloody toes, teachers get paid shit, doctors are walking lawsuits, only one person from their generation will ever be president, and being a pirate involves a lot more human slavery and sodomy than it used to. 

I was a ninja kid.  Still am.  Because seriously, how cool are ninjas?  And while I still aspire to be a homocidal shadow, I am also an aspiring lawer and musician.  But let's face it, everybody wants to be something extraordinary.  We all still have our dreams, no matter how fantastic or sexually deviant they may be.  My brother wants to commentate on ESPN (I would LOVE to talk to Charles Barkley), my friend Spencer wants to be an astronaut (and he might actually do it, too, the MIT bastard), and everyone else wants something.  Hell, even George Bush wants to be Indiana Jones.  Sadly, the grim, steady march of that howling wolf of oblivion we call Time and the need for financial security forces most of us to abandon these deep and passionate desires for themselves.

My friends, I am here to tell you to hold onto those desires, to dream the impossible dream, and any number of other cliches of encouragement.  It's the dreamers among us that give us the laughs that can only come from watching others fail in a spectacular fashion.  Who knows, you might actually succeed and be a certifiable badass.  And, as a show of good faith, I present to you my own incredibly nerdy dream of an ideal occupation. 

I have many ideal futures.  Being a ninja is one of them.  But there are others.  And, my fellow nerds and socially awkward brethren, chief among them is the desire to meet Morgan Webb.  Should this ever happen, this dream would evolve into hosting X-Play.  Video games and unrepentant sarcasm are two of my greatest passions.  Anyone who says video games are not a valid art form have never played Half Life 2 or Ocarina of Time.  And, though one might argue that as long as I'm dreaming of hosting a television show, I might as well shoot a little higher than a review show on a relatively small cable channel, where my sister programs would be the likes of COPS and Cheaters, I love that show, and on a more physical level, Webb.  Adam Sessler's great, too, but if someone has to go, Adam's not the one I want to bear my children.  I would love nothing more than to bitterly mock bad games and play good games for a living.    Being a ninja would just be icing on the cake.

The thing about this dream is that as far as secret longings of the heart and private fantasies go, this one is relatively humble.  I don't want to be famous, these guys are pretty much unknown outside of the gaming world, and it certainly isn't primetime network television.  I'm not in it for the money, as I'm sure that while Webb and Sessler probably live comfortably, I doubt that they're diving into Olympic sized swimming pools filled with hundred dollar bills.  I want it because it looks like they love what they do, and because Morgan Webb is hilarious and has a kicking body.

This is not to say I would turn down a job as a bikini inspector, underwear model, an ambassadorship to Fiji, or any number of wildly lucrative careers, but it's just a nerdy little dream of mine that I hold near my heart.  And in Webb's case, my pants.  No disrepect to her husband of course, he should be flattered to be told his wife is a total hottie. 

Why do I tell you this?  Why do I break the fourth wall and rhetorically ask you what the point of all this boring confession is?  Because no one wants to be an accountant.  People end up as number crunchers, but no one wants to be there.  So if you end up in that office, working in that cubicle, at least have fun there.  Be the guy who puts superglue on a coworker's keyboard so that it gets stuck to their hands.  Be the guy who leaves porn on the boss's desktop.  Be the guy who gives people wildly inappropriate Valentine's Day gifts.  Be the hot secretary who's willing to have sex with me on the copy machine.  If you can't live the dream, at least have some fun with the life you have.

Also, ninjas are fucking awesome.