Sometimes you folks get a little cheeky so I thought it might be instructive to provide you with some further insight into what sort of critter you are messing with. I am descended from the–
Unglaciated Allegheny Plateau People
That’s right, there hasn’t been any glaciation on us since what is was never going to be.
I clean up to maneuver in polite society, but this picture represents how I feel inside pretty much all the time.
Go ahead and bite off a hunk, you’ll see.
Juancho
If it weren’t for this man and his giant contribution, I would be at a loss for something to do on Wednesday nights. Off and on for the last many years, if I found myself without something interesting to do-like watching re-runs of Beauty and the Geek or microwaving some leftovers- I have enjoyed the opportunity to sneak up to 10th Ave and witness the withy imaginations of geeks gone wild as they throw the 20 sided dice.
Conducted within a cloak of cigarette smoke, the 10th Ave Dungeon family roars and bickers as they virtually steal from their virtual selves, backstabbing and rooking everything that isn’t virtually nailed down. At times, watching from the sidelines I realize without any comment or movement by myself that yes! I am playing too! “I want to kill the Ogre watching us by that tree.” Can I kill the Ogre?” asks the She-elf or Shelf.
The Ogre eases on out the door, disappointed to have not caught them in costume, which he knows damn well they use. They must have some sort of time rewind spell I would guess?
Things could have gone differently. I remember purchasing the introductory Dungeons and Dragons set with my Dad at Dubey’s bookstore in Sebring, Fl. The family had yet to discover that I had the attention span of a juvenile fruit fly. I opened the box, rather small, purple, and light for the price- only to find…
…a bunch of paper. Not dragon one. No swords. No maidens (damn sure no maidens, mighty few maidens found around a D&D gang.)
I remember asking my father the same thing I ask now, “Um, are we like, playing now or just talking about playing?” I still can’t tell the difference.
I have long admired those who make their own fun, and grudgingly admit that role-playing games honor that tradition, although I am disappointed it can be played out of costume, unless ska t-shirts, Vans, and Miller High Life is a costume.
Brett Favre retired. Ron Paul is dropping out.
Gary Gygax is dead.
It is getting mighty lonely for the iconoclasts.
Magical minus one,
Juancho
Kinetic, Potential, Thermal, Mass, Nuclear, Gravitational, Chemical-
There are lots of kinds and I am trying to collect energy like Mel (not his real name) collects Pokemon cards or 10th Ave collects Dungeons and Dragons figurines. I simply have too much to do, not to mention I haven’t invoked fear on the trail in almost a year, unless it was fear of a tantrum- which will only increase with my power and fury. Divas never change.
What I’m trying to say is: Sleep, H20, and humble peasant food is all I’m interested in at the moment.
Spring is here people, and time is of the essence.
Juancho
When something is wrong with the system of operations the first thing you do is quit making mistakes. Shine the clear light of empirical scrutiny on every working part and process. Cease committing errors- then rehabilitate the organism one component at a time. Reflect, evaluate, then act.
If you need me I will be at the gym or the library.
-Juancho
Riverboat and I took a little southern tour through Wakulla County yesterday just to take the cultural temperature of our more rural neighbors.
We kicked the tour off at the Flea Market, where I learned the word “Dixielicious” from the ass of a pair of cut-offs. You can assume there will be a post titled “Dixielicious” in the future.
I was hoping to find a leaf blower, but instead I left with a bag od mustard greens, 4 sweet potatoes, 2 onions, and 4 bandannas of assorted colors.
Riverboat got a bag of Cajun-style boiled peanuts.
From the flea market we pointed it south to Ouzt’s or Outz’s whichever the case may be and tried not to knock a row of Harleys over as we squeezed into the parking lot. We enjoyed the best oysters of the season and listened to a band called Reveille crank out southern soft rock hits of the 1970’s. Riverboat was wearing a New York Knicks shirt while mine celebrated the great Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Most everyone else was sporting some variation of Stars and Bars. Riverboat was disturbed by this and spoke very few words, which is a shame as his Mississippi accent would have won many of them over immediately.
From there we drifted north to the Southern Spirits lounge otherwise known as “Countyline Lounge.” There we acquitted ourselves with great skill on the pool table against a young man with turrets syndrome and his compatriot who stubbornly wore his sunglasses in this, the darkest of bars. Good fellas though, the both of them.
Sometimes you have to leave the bike in the garage and go mix it up.
-Juancho