A Hit, A Palpable Hit
This is easily my favorite South Park moment ever.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Friday, December 08, 2006
Monday, December 04, 2006
The Thanksgiving of '06
This one will definitely be one for the books. It's certainly the most memorable I've had. Here's Der Scoopen:
So me and my lovely bride, were driving down to the Heart of Dixie to give some serious thanks. We drive 10 hours because gas is free when you kick as much ass as the Yorks kick. Also we both have a masochistic streak a mile wide.
Anyway, we had just gotten off the interstate and were on the 'home stretch' which represents the last hour or so of driving. It was a lovely day, 70 degrees, cloudless sky. The kind of day that makes you look out the window at the driving snow and reevaluate why you live in the frozen tundra and not with good down home civil folk where snow is little more than a folk tale. So we're driving down this picturesque country highway and there's a truck coming from the other direction, as traffic in the other lane is wont to do. Like many highways that cut through hilly countryside, the road often plowed straight through. A hillside that had been lovingly shifted with the careful use of dynamite to make it more amenable. This truck is now roughly 200 feet in front of us. Suddenly it swerves hard to its right and off the road. Mind you, we're in a cleft hill so the sides of the highway are giant fucking rock walls. The truck smashes nearly head on (as best I could tell) into the rock wall and then proceeded to roll over two or three times.
Rebecca had been on the phone with a friend and shrieked, "We have to call 911," and hung up on the poor bastard. I felt a twinge of guilt in the moment thinking that he probably was afraid we were in some sort of trouble. I had little time to dwell on it though. We pulled over straight away and I ran to the truck. It was on it's side. My deeply embedded dorkmind assessed that this is probably tantamount to what an attack from a dinosaur or werewolf might look like. It was a mass of torn metal, bent and twisted from the rolls. When I got to the scene I could see a man's arms and one leg hanging from the driver side window that had been shattered. When I first saw him, I thought for sure he was dead. For a moment, I just stood there gawking, luckily there were others on the scene that immediately began turning the truck back upright. It took three of us to flip it over and I remember the hands and legs flopping in a sickening way when the truck settled into place. This only cemented in my mind that we were about to pull a corpse out of this truck. The other men and myself pried open the mangled door and pulled the man, in his mid to late fifties, out of the car and laid him on the grass several feet away from the smoking car.
It's a good thing I'm not an EMT because no sooner did we set him down than it was obvious the man was breathing. I remember feeling a rush of relief for this complete stranger who, for all I know, might have been a child molesting nazi teddy bear rapist ¹. Seemingly moments after we cleared him from the car a woman walked up with a calm demeanor about her that spoke of familiarity with this sort of crisis. She named herself a nurse and I dutifully got the fuck out of the way. From the other direction came a man carrying a small orange case. He too had a purposeful but unhurried stride of someone who knew how to handle these situations. I never got his name or his job but I suspect he was an off-duty EMT.
It was about this time that I got a chance to survey the scene around the car. I remember being struck at how much garbage was strewn around the wreck. I don't know if the man kept an overwhelmingly messy car or if that's just normal in car wrecks this bad, like plane crashes. Rebecca was doing much the same, taking in the whole scenario.
Suddenly, she looked me in the eyes and said in a certain tone, "there's a dog, we have to find it." She had noticed a ripped bag of dog food in the truck and come to the conclusion immediately. She looked down the road and started running (an activity that I've witnessed less times than I have fingers on one hand). She ran down the road and I looked ahead of her and noticed a dog about a quarter mile down the road heading away from the site of the wreck. How she spotted this dog from so far away I have no idea. I took off running in the same direction and caught up with the dog and a guy who'd stopped to keep the dog off the highway. The dog was unhurt but visibly very shaken so we walked him back to our car and got him some water. I could tell he was just happy to have a person there that he could count on to take care of him. While we were waiting for any kind of word from the rescue workers he kept burying his head into my chest the same way a child does. Needless to say my latent paternal instincts engaged and I would have kneecapped anyone who actively threatened this puppy on my watch.
As the EMTs were loading the injured man into the ambulance, we started asking questions about what would become of the dog. Strangely they had no idea what would happen. The animal shelter was closed for the holiday and would not reopen until Monday morning. With nowhere to take the dog we volunteered to watch the dog for the weekend.
To keep from this getting to be too lengthy the man's injuries turned out to be none too serious which is quite different from my diagnosis which was Stone Cold Dead. We were able to return the dog to the proper authorities that following Monday morning. Though I have to admit, there was a part of me that had really hoped we could keep him a little longer.
So now the whole house is Jonesing for a dog.
This one will definitely be one for the books. It's certainly the most memorable I've had. Here's Der Scoopen:
So me and my lovely bride, were driving down to the Heart of Dixie to give some serious thanks. We drive 10 hours because gas is free when you kick as much ass as the Yorks kick. Also we both have a masochistic streak a mile wide.
Anyway, we had just gotten off the interstate and were on the 'home stretch' which represents the last hour or so of driving. It was a lovely day, 70 degrees, cloudless sky. The kind of day that makes you look out the window at the driving snow and reevaluate why you live in the frozen tundra and not with good down home civil folk where snow is little more than a folk tale. So we're driving down this picturesque country highway and there's a truck coming from the other direction, as traffic in the other lane is wont to do. Like many highways that cut through hilly countryside, the road often plowed straight through. A hillside that had been lovingly shifted with the careful use of dynamite to make it more amenable. This truck is now roughly 200 feet in front of us. Suddenly it swerves hard to its right and off the road. Mind you, we're in a cleft hill so the sides of the highway are giant fucking rock walls. The truck smashes nearly head on (as best I could tell) into the rock wall and then proceeded to roll over two or three times.
Rebecca had been on the phone with a friend and shrieked, "We have to call 911," and hung up on the poor bastard. I felt a twinge of guilt in the moment thinking that he probably was afraid we were in some sort of trouble. I had little time to dwell on it though. We pulled over straight away and I ran to the truck. It was on it's side. My deeply embedded dorkmind assessed that this is probably tantamount to what an attack from a dinosaur or werewolf might look like. It was a mass of torn metal, bent and twisted from the rolls. When I got to the scene I could see a man's arms and one leg hanging from the driver side window that had been shattered. When I first saw him, I thought for sure he was dead. For a moment, I just stood there gawking, luckily there were others on the scene that immediately began turning the truck back upright. It took three of us to flip it over and I remember the hands and legs flopping in a sickening way when the truck settled into place. This only cemented in my mind that we were about to pull a corpse out of this truck. The other men and myself pried open the mangled door and pulled the man, in his mid to late fifties, out of the car and laid him on the grass several feet away from the smoking car.
It's a good thing I'm not an EMT because no sooner did we set him down than it was obvious the man was breathing. I remember feeling a rush of relief for this complete stranger who, for all I know, might have been a child molesting nazi teddy bear rapist ¹. Seemingly moments after we cleared him from the car a woman walked up with a calm demeanor about her that spoke of familiarity with this sort of crisis. She named herself a nurse and I dutifully got the fuck out of the way. From the other direction came a man carrying a small orange case. He too had a purposeful but unhurried stride of someone who knew how to handle these situations. I never got his name or his job but I suspect he was an off-duty EMT.
It was about this time that I got a chance to survey the scene around the car. I remember being struck at how much garbage was strewn around the wreck. I don't know if the man kept an overwhelmingly messy car or if that's just normal in car wrecks this bad, like plane crashes. Rebecca was doing much the same, taking in the whole scenario.
Suddenly, she looked me in the eyes and said in a certain tone, "there's a dog, we have to find it." She had noticed a ripped bag of dog food in the truck and come to the conclusion immediately. She looked down the road and started running (an activity that I've witnessed less times than I have fingers on one hand). She ran down the road and I looked ahead of her and noticed a dog about a quarter mile down the road heading away from the site of the wreck. How she spotted this dog from so far away I have no idea. I took off running in the same direction and caught up with the dog and a guy who'd stopped to keep the dog off the highway. The dog was unhurt but visibly very shaken so we walked him back to our car and got him some water. I could tell he was just happy to have a person there that he could count on to take care of him. While we were waiting for any kind of word from the rescue workers he kept burying his head into my chest the same way a child does. Needless to say my latent paternal instincts engaged and I would have kneecapped anyone who actively threatened this puppy on my watch.
As the EMTs were loading the injured man into the ambulance, we started asking questions about what would become of the dog. Strangely they had no idea what would happen. The animal shelter was closed for the holiday and would not reopen until Monday morning. With nowhere to take the dog we volunteered to watch the dog for the weekend.
To keep from this getting to be too lengthy the man's injuries turned out to be none too serious which is quite different from my diagnosis which was Stone Cold Dead. We were able to return the dog to the proper authorities that following Monday morning. Though I have to admit, there was a part of me that had really hoped we could keep him a little longer.
So now the whole house is Jonesing for a dog.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Stunned Silence
Life Gems
When you absolutely must compress a chunk of your deceased loved ones into a precious stone to be worn on your person. Accept no substitutes.
Life Gems
When you absolutely must compress a chunk of your deceased loved ones into a precious stone to be worn on your person. Accept no substitutes.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Here Come the Bastards
Ought Six will henceforth be known as the Year of Concerts. I've already seen these guys and my friend's band. Tonight is the main event. Primus. I'm hoping I can touch the hem of Les' robe and then expect to improve as a bassist ten fold.
As if that weren't enough. Next week we're seeing MC Chris, maybe twice.
Ought Six will henceforth be known as the Year of Concerts. I've already seen these guys and my friend's band. Tonight is the main event. Primus. I'm hoping I can touch the hem of Les' robe and then expect to improve as a bassist ten fold.
As if that weren't enough. Next week we're seeing MC Chris, maybe twice.
Friday, November 03, 2006
A Rare Day of Fun in Substitute Teaching
I ripped a phone book in half today. Okay, so it was more like half a phone book. And one of these guys got me started. But still, I got guns like John James Rambo.
I ripped a phone book in half today. Okay, so it was more like half a phone book. And one of these guys got me started. But still, I got guns like John James Rambo.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
I'm as confused as you are
Twice in the same week, I know. The mind boggles.
Several times now I've wanted to share with my millions of reader a band for which I feel quite a bit of affection. Every time I try to write something I can never bring myself to post it because of some dumb reason I manufacture. I've decided it's because the quality of the band and the music is of such pedigree that I feel the need to write something on par with excellence; a task for which I generally consider myself unqualified. So I'm not even going to try:
This is the band. They're called the Drive By Truckers. I went to high school with/played in a garage band with one of the guitarists. They have a new album. It is very good. Finally, there is this song, which is the first song since "Sky Blue and Black" to bring me to tears.
Twice in the same week, I know. The mind boggles.
Several times now I've wanted to share with my millions of reader a band for which I feel quite a bit of affection. Every time I try to write something I can never bring myself to post it because of some dumb reason I manufacture. I've decided it's because the quality of the band and the music is of such pedigree that I feel the need to write something on par with excellence; a task for which I generally consider myself unqualified. So I'm not even going to try:
This is the band. They're called the Drive By Truckers. I went to high school with/played in a garage band with one of the guitarists. They have a new album. It is very good. Finally, there is this song, which is the first song since "Sky Blue and Black" to bring me to tears.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Friday, October 06, 2006
Screeching Halt
I apologize if you've been checking this space slavering for an update. It just hasn't happened in the last month. I can tell you why but it won't really make any difference. I have started working during the day time hours like a normal person. Generally that's not a huge problem but I'm still working in the evening time hours like a not-normal person. Furthermore, I've been picked up by a roving band of troubadours and they have forced me into actually practicing and rehearsing twice a week.
As if all that wasn't enough, we got cable a few weeks ago.
I think that pretty much sums it up. I will update when I find a time to do that kind of thing but it may be nothing more than a sentence or me bitching and complaining about how I need a foot rub.
I apologize if you've been checking this space slavering for an update. It just hasn't happened in the last month. I can tell you why but it won't really make any difference. I have started working during the day time hours like a normal person. Generally that's not a huge problem but I'm still working in the evening time hours like a not-normal person. Furthermore, I've been picked up by a roving band of troubadours and they have forced me into actually practicing and rehearsing twice a week.
As if all that wasn't enough, we got cable a few weeks ago.
I think that pretty much sums it up. I will update when I find a time to do that kind of thing but it may be nothing more than a sentence or me bitching and complaining about how I need a foot rub.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Humble Folks Without Temptation
Because of my not having cable for the last five years, I've missed out on a lot. One of these things is the progression of South Park beyond about season 4. I remember seeing Timmay's debut and the advent of Butters. But once I moved to South Carolina, the only time I saw the show was on visits to see my parents. Even these had to be carried out in secret because of my parent's stringent religiousity. They actually had the cable company scramble MTV when we first got cable when I was in high school. To this day, Channel 35 comes in like a softcore porn station. You can just barely make out the excited ramblings of Carson Daly and Three Box Matches or whatever it is kids these days are listening to.
Anyway, as in all things, the internet has saved me. I give you South Park Videos. While not entirely comprehensive it definitely covers the bases. It even has the South Park Movie divied up into a 9 part mini-series.
I you haven't been disturbed by cartoon animals in a while I highly recommend the Woodland Critter Christmas episode.
Because of my not having cable for the last five years, I've missed out on a lot. One of these things is the progression of South Park beyond about season 4. I remember seeing Timmay's debut and the advent of Butters. But once I moved to South Carolina, the only time I saw the show was on visits to see my parents. Even these had to be carried out in secret because of my parent's stringent religiousity. They actually had the cable company scramble MTV when we first got cable when I was in high school. To this day, Channel 35 comes in like a softcore porn station. You can just barely make out the excited ramblings of Carson Daly and Three Box Matches or whatever it is kids these days are listening to.
Anyway, as in all things, the internet has saved me. I give you South Park Videos. While not entirely comprehensive it definitely covers the bases. It even has the South Park Movie divied up into a 9 part mini-series.
I you haven't been disturbed by cartoon animals in a while I highly recommend the Woodland Critter Christmas episode.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Opposite Day
Somedays this feels more like a repository for dumb internet videos than a fo' sho' blog but I can live with that. Everyone knows that retarded videos are the cold fusion that drives the internets. So here's this groovy site with videos gigawatts aplenty. I could try to explain it but it's actually much funnier if you don't see the punchline coming. We must bow our heads to Pork, who unconvered this treasure.
Jackhole Pick O' The Litter
Somedays this feels more like a repository for dumb internet videos than a fo' sho' blog but I can live with that. Everyone knows that retarded videos are the cold fusion that drives the internets. So here's this groovy site with videos gigawatts aplenty. I could try to explain it but it's actually much funnier if you don't see the punchline coming. We must bow our heads to Pork, who unconvered this treasure.
Jackhole Pick O' The Litter
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Packed With Fiber
I started a new diet this week. If all goes well I'm going to put all my ideas into a book and sell it for ridiculous amounts of money to all the fat fucks out there that need a leg up on not being a fat fuck. I am calling it the, "Don't Eat So Goddamn Much Initiative." It is related, philosophically, to the "Put the Fucking Twinkie Down" diet. It came to me the other day in a fast food joint which remain nameless. I had ordered some manner of 'combo' meal. While waiting on the food people to finish my fries, a guy came up behind me and they took his order. The man was older than me, he was taller than me, and very likely outweighed. Then something weird happened. He ordered a small chili and a diet soda. That was all. It all came crashing down on me at once. The gravity of just how much we overeat because resturants make us think we need 2 cheeseburgers, a rowboat of fries, and a bucket of tasty beverage. So I figured even if I don't always eat things that are spectacularly good for me, I can ease the damage by eating less of it at least. I'll let you know how the "diet" goes.
I started a new diet this week. If all goes well I'm going to put all my ideas into a book and sell it for ridiculous amounts of money to all the fat fucks out there that need a leg up on not being a fat fuck. I am calling it the, "Don't Eat So Goddamn Much Initiative." It is related, philosophically, to the "Put the Fucking Twinkie Down" diet. It came to me the other day in a fast food joint which remain nameless. I had ordered some manner of 'combo' meal. While waiting on the food people to finish my fries, a guy came up behind me and they took his order. The man was older than me, he was taller than me, and very likely outweighed. Then something weird happened. He ordered a small chili and a diet soda. That was all. It all came crashing down on me at once. The gravity of just how much we overeat because resturants make us think we need 2 cheeseburgers, a rowboat of fries, and a bucket of tasty beverage. So I figured even if I don't always eat things that are spectacularly good for me, I can ease the damage by eating less of it at least. I'll let you know how the "diet" goes.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Observations:
We have company coming over, and as Zero Hour nears all three of the cats have gone and taken extra smelly dumps in the litter box. They're just doing their part to make everyone feel welcome.
We have company coming over, and as Zero Hour nears all three of the cats have gone and taken extra smelly dumps in the litter box. They're just doing their part to make everyone feel welcome.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
The Three Mothers
As "The Italian Job" taught us all, there are three 'mothers' you should never mess with (in no specific order): Mother Nature, Motherfucking Ukranians, and Mothers-in-law. The in-laws are coming over for dinner tommorrow night. We're busy buying the few last minute things for dinner and picking up the place (it had undergone a more strenous doucheing last weekend). All that's left is for me to make sure there's a stack of gay porn in the bathroom and the KY is strategically placed between the salt and pepper shakers.
Well, where do you keep it!?
As "The Italian Job" taught us all, there are three 'mothers' you should never mess with (in no specific order): Mother Nature, Motherfucking Ukranians, and Mothers-in-law. The in-laws are coming over for dinner tommorrow night. We're busy buying the few last minute things for dinner and picking up the place (it had undergone a more strenous doucheing last weekend). All that's left is for me to make sure there's a stack of gay porn in the bathroom and the KY is strategically placed between the salt and pepper shakers.
Well, where do you keep it!?
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Eating Is Hard To Do,
when half your fucking face is numb. Fucking dentist.
I suspect that when the bubble-gum flavored anesthesia* wears off. I'll be in horrible horrible pain because I've spent the last hour masticating the inside of my cheek in a way that is probably best described as zealous.
* - it should be noted that "Bubble Gum Flavored Anesthesia" will be the title of my fourth album.
when half your fucking face is numb. Fucking dentist.
I suspect that when the bubble-gum flavored anesthesia* wears off. I'll be in horrible horrible pain because I've spent the last hour masticating the inside of my cheek in a way that is probably best described as zealous.
* - it should be noted that "Bubble Gum Flavored Anesthesia" will be the title of my fourth album.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Cereal Killa
Every so often my lovely bride and I endeavor to purchase breakfast food even though only on half of our union is awake during breakfast hours. Usually the breakfast food of choice is some manner of cold cereal. A lot of nutrtion can be packed into a bowl of various nuts, grains, and Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs™. Generally we opt for cereals of "Pebble" persuasion. While this is healthy in theory, in practice it is not so. The major failing is our propensity to aquire breakfast that tastes like cake. I will speak only for myself on this matter but I can assure you I am powerless, unmanned even, in the face of overwhelming deliciousity.
The long and the short of it is this: yesterday two boxes of our favorite Pebbly breakfast staple were aquired and by 11pm, one them was gone. By 'gone', I do not mean it slipped out an open door as I was taking out the trash. More like we declared Sunday evening to be celebrated as "Inhale Several Helpings of Cartoon Character Endorsed Food In Lieu of a Proper Dinner Day." Is it really so strange that we ended up together?
Also, this has incarcerated my mind. Thanks, again, to the aforementioned lovely bride.
-Kroy has gone offline
Every so often my lovely bride and I endeavor to purchase breakfast food even though only on half of our union is awake during breakfast hours. Usually the breakfast food of choice is some manner of cold cereal. A lot of nutrtion can be packed into a bowl of various nuts, grains, and Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs™. Generally we opt for cereals of "Pebble" persuasion. While this is healthy in theory, in practice it is not so. The major failing is our propensity to aquire breakfast that tastes like cake. I will speak only for myself on this matter but I can assure you I am powerless, unmanned even, in the face of overwhelming deliciousity.
The long and the short of it is this: yesterday two boxes of our favorite Pebbly breakfast staple were aquired and by 11pm, one them was gone. By 'gone', I do not mean it slipped out an open door as I was taking out the trash. More like we declared Sunday evening to be celebrated as "Inhale Several Helpings of Cartoon Character Endorsed Food In Lieu of a Proper Dinner Day." Is it really so strange that we ended up together?
Also, this has incarcerated my mind. Thanks, again, to the aforementioned lovely bride.
-Kroy has gone offline
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Monday, July 31, 2006
Ma'am, Your Fetish is Showing
Just a warning, this post may not be safe for work. Though... I'm not sure, it might be. That's kind of what it's about. Also, this is, admittedly, my most fucked up post yet. You are warned.
This is something that I started thinking about roughly a month ago. It's be bugging me ever since.
I was browsing Google videos as I am wont to do on occasion. Now, I was looking for this guy. Stuart Hamm, a ridiculously talented bassist. Eventually I found what I was looking for but on the way I came across a few things that really shook me to my core. Ok, ready? Here you go.
Now, as you might have guessed, the way Google is indexed. One video leads into another and another. And yet another. And so on. Now if you dig a little deeper, which - by this point - I had no choice but to, you find a full website peddling these things, get this, for MONEY. WHAT THE FUCK?
So, apparently there's an entire (paying) subculture that is into these videos of (mostly) attractive people tickling each other. Now here's my question. Does this qualify as pornography? Dictionary dot com defines porno as:
But...
The videos include no nudity, no sex, and no physical contact other than the tickling. Does it still count? This like life's greatest mystery. It keeps me up at night. I didn't say I had an answer. I just said it's bugging me. All I know for sure is that this world is one seriously fucked up place.
p.s. Just in case you were wondering. This is what you get when you Google "Euphemisms for Masturbation."
Just a warning, this post may not be safe for work. Though... I'm not sure, it might be. That's kind of what it's about. Also, this is, admittedly, my most fucked up post yet. You are warned.
This is something that I started thinking about roughly a month ago. It's be bugging me ever since.
I was browsing Google videos as I am wont to do on occasion. Now, I was looking for this guy. Stuart Hamm, a ridiculously talented bassist. Eventually I found what I was looking for but on the way I came across a few things that really shook me to my core. Ok, ready? Here you go.
Now, as you might have guessed, the way Google is indexed. One video leads into another and another. And yet another. And so on. Now if you dig a little deeper, which - by this point - I had no choice but to, you find a full website peddling these things, get this, for MONEY. WHAT THE FUCK?
So, apparently there's an entire (paying) subculture that is into these videos of (mostly) attractive people tickling each other. Now here's my question. Does this qualify as pornography? Dictionary dot com defines porno as:
- Sexually explicit pictures, writing, or other material whose primary purpose is to cause sexual arousal.
- The presentation or production of this material.
But...
The videos include no nudity, no sex, and no physical contact other than the tickling. Does it still count? This like life's greatest mystery. It keeps me up at night. I didn't say I had an answer. I just said it's bugging me. All I know for sure is that this world is one seriously fucked up place.
p.s. Just in case you were wondering. This is what you get when you Google "Euphemisms for Masturbation."
Thursday, July 27, 2006
My New Name Is Wajimba Honkeh
It's good to be home. I'd like to thank you all for being so patient, and now that there's pretty much no chance of anyone reading this ever again I'd like to get back to posting.
I realize it's been a month since my last post but I just want you to know what's been going on. I decided to go on a last minute Aboriginal Walkabout. It was a time of great spiritual soul searching and redefinement. I would regale you with pictures and tales but I spent most of the trip high on exotic toads and a wallaby ate my camera. So... yeah. That's totally where I've been. But just know that now my posts will have much more substance and less fart jokes. Excepting in cases where fart jokes equal substance.
It's good to be home. I'd like to thank you all for being so patient, and now that there's pretty much no chance of anyone reading this ever again I'd like to get back to posting.
I realize it's been a month since my last post but I just want you to know what's been going on. I decided to go on a last minute Aboriginal Walkabout. It was a time of great spiritual soul searching and redefinement. I would regale you with pictures and tales but I spent most of the trip high on exotic toads and a wallaby ate my camera. So... yeah. That's totally where I've been. But just know that now my posts will have much more substance and less fart jokes. Excepting in cases where fart jokes equal substance.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
You Know What Time It Is
It's time for the Low-brow/High-brow links of the day. Where I hand out links that can appeal to everyone from the editor of the The New Yorker to the President of the United States.
High Brow Link of the Day: Jackson Pollack emulator.
Who's Jackson Pollack you say? Well lemme tell ya... you know what, maybe you should just check out link #2.
Low Brow Link of the Day: Hitler Cats!
Both links stolened from Her Dooceness. End Transmission.
It's time for the Low-brow/High-brow links of the day. Where I hand out links that can appeal to everyone from the editor of the The New Yorker to the President of the United States.
High Brow Link of the Day: Jackson Pollack emulator.
Who's Jackson Pollack you say? Well lemme tell ya... you know what, maybe you should just check out link #2.
Low Brow Link of the Day: Hitler Cats!
Both links stolened from Her Dooceness. End Transmission.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Jackhole Concert Warp-up
OK, I would have posted sooner but my brain has been recompiling since the MC Frontalot concert a couple of weeks ago. Also, I'm a lazy piece of shit.
The concert was unconditionally superb. It was a bit of a haul from Detoilet to Kalamzoo but not something I wouldn't do again in a heart beat... on a work night... before a big presentation... on which rode a major promotion. This was the tour's last stop so the last chance, before PAX, to see the Front bust rhymes in living color. I've been listening to the Front for several years now. I was first enamored of him when I heard "Braggadogio" and the proverbial deal was cliched when I mine ears did hear "Yellow Lasers." Any rapper who can combine so many Star Wars cliches and golden showers is worthy of my praise. In thanks to the MC for such a stellar show we purchased a number of items and politely asked him to write his name on one such item, which he graciously obliged.
The concert is too far gone for me to remember the set in total but I can at least remember the show highlights: "Crime Spree" was most excellently rendered. The aforementioned "Braggadogio" was part of the all-too-short encore set. If my old man memory serves its function he opened with "Indier Than Thou". Definitely a high point in the evening was the Roll-A-Song in which the crowd cheered for their choice between two songs and the losing song had to make a Saving Throw. Very clever indeed. The bar itself was kindof a hole in the wall that appeared to be more accustomed to hard rock and hip hop acts. I'm sure they were all thrilled with the crowd that evening. Unfortunately the show was sparsely attended. I didn't do a full head count, but the fact that I could have gives you some idea as to how few people were there. It was on a Wednesday night and probably close to finals for a lot of the college students in town. Not that any of that is an excuse, if they really cared they'd have been there.
So in conclusion, I'm very much looking forward to seeing Front on his next concertizing endeavor. Next on the list is mc chris.
-Kroy has gone offline
me here talk good?
OK, I would have posted sooner but my brain has been recompiling since the MC Frontalot concert a couple of weeks ago. Also, I'm a lazy piece of shit.
The concert was unconditionally superb. It was a bit of a haul from Detoilet to Kalamzoo but not something I wouldn't do again in a heart beat... on a work night... before a big presentation... on which rode a major promotion. This was the tour's last stop so the last chance, before PAX, to see the Front bust rhymes in living color. I've been listening to the Front for several years now. I was first enamored of him when I heard "Braggadogio" and the proverbial deal was cliched when I mine ears did hear "Yellow Lasers." Any rapper who can combine so many Star Wars cliches and golden showers is worthy of my praise. In thanks to the MC for such a stellar show we purchased a number of items and politely asked him to write his name on one such item, which he graciously obliged.
The concert is too far gone for me to remember the set in total but I can at least remember the show highlights: "Crime Spree" was most excellently rendered. The aforementioned "Braggadogio" was part of the all-too-short encore set. If my old man memory serves its function he opened with "Indier Than Thou". Definitely a high point in the evening was the Roll-A-Song in which the crowd cheered for their choice between two songs and the losing song had to make a Saving Throw. Very clever indeed. The bar itself was kindof a hole in the wall that appeared to be more accustomed to hard rock and hip hop acts. I'm sure they were all thrilled with the crowd that evening. Unfortunately the show was sparsely attended. I didn't do a full head count, but the fact that I could have gives you some idea as to how few people were there. It was on a Wednesday night and probably close to finals for a lot of the college students in town. Not that any of that is an excuse, if they really cared they'd have been there.
So in conclusion, I'm very much looking forward to seeing Front on his next concertizing endeavor. Next on the list is mc chris.
-Kroy has gone offline
me here talk good?
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
This is a Public Service Announcement:
For all you new, soon-to-be, or prospective brides out there. Don't leave the duty of writing thank you cards in the hands of your new husband:
Consider yourself warned.
For all you new, soon-to-be, or prospective brides out there. Don't leave the duty of writing thank you cards in the hands of your new husband:
"Thank you dearly for the gift of the hand towels. Never again will the evils of over rambunctious moisture rear its ugly head in our lavatory. We owe you much."
"You people are like the British Royals with your intermarrying. What's up with that?"
"Thanks for coming to our reception... Jason. Where were the rest of you? Oh right, there was some other thing happening in some other place. Well, we totally understand. It's fine that you love those people more than us."
Consider yourself warned.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
The Carnivore's Trek thru Charleston
While eating our way through Charleston, SC, we got a chance to savor some of the finest foods with a face known to this island Earth. Observe:
Cows.
Chickens. Lots of chickens.
Crab.
Shrimp.
Salmon.
Flounder.
Lobster.
Lamb.
Alligator.
Baby.
To quote a famous sage, "Why do we eat meat? Because meat tastes like Murder and murder tastes pretty fuckin' good."
-Kroy has gone offline
boy, lemme tell ya what
While eating our way through Charleston, SC, we got a chance to savor some of the finest foods with a face known to this island Earth. Observe:
Cows.
Chickens. Lots of chickens.
Crab.
Shrimp.
Salmon.
Flounder.
Lobster.
Lamb.
Alligator.
Baby.
To quote a famous sage, "Why do we eat meat? Because meat tastes like Murder and murder tastes pretty fuckin' good."
-Kroy has gone offline
boy, lemme tell ya what
Monday, May 08, 2006
Friday, April 28, 2006
To Rebecca on Our Wedding Day
Today we marry. It's hard to believe that we've been dating for a year and half. Time is strange. On the one hand it feels like we just met a few weeks ago. On the other, it feels as though I've known you all my life. I think that's one of the things that has always amazed me (and continues to do so). It was almost as if there was no 'getting to know you' phase of our relationship. The information exchange that happened was largely a formality, something that people do when they meet a new person, but not strictly necessary in our case. Whenever you would tell me you liked a certain food or a certain band it was more confirming what I already suspected than discovering new things about you. Wierd huh.
Sometimes we say things to each other like, "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." In fact we do so to a degree that through frequency it starts to lose its potency. Let me just say, for the record that it's as true for me as it was the first time I said it. You are, unconditionally, the sweetest, most forgiving, most decent person I have ever met. I count myself lucky beyond measure that I was even able to meet you. To know that I get to spend my life with you is more than my tiny mind can process.
It was odd preparing for this day, in so many ways I've considered us "married" since before I even moved to Michigan. Before we ever even brought it up in discussion, I already knew that I had found something remarkable and had best play my cards right. I knew from the start that I was the lucky one. So much so, that when we finally did get engaged that it hardly felt like news (to such a degree that I neglected to inform one of my closest friends, sorry Jami). But, by definition, news is 'new', and this wasn't new. This was something I had known for a long time. Something that feels, even now, like it was written and decided well before we ever even knew each other's names. I've never been much of a disciple to Destiny or Fate but the events of the past few months have made a fairly strong case for it.
In addition to being all the things I mentioned above, you are good for me. If I hadn't met you, I'm certain beyond doubt that I'd still be in Boston working at a dead end temp position with nothing musical going for or around me. I'd also be hating every second of it. I most certainly would not be teaching music. You have given me a gift I had pretty much lost somewhere, a confidence in my abilities as a musician. As if all the other things you've done and do for me weren't enough, I could never repay that in a thousand lives of fervant toil. Thank you.
So today we make known to the world, the federal government, and to our God the thing that I've known for a very long time, perhaps longer than I even realize. You are my wife.
Love always,
Kroy
I will write you a song
Today we marry. It's hard to believe that we've been dating for a year and half. Time is strange. On the one hand it feels like we just met a few weeks ago. On the other, it feels as though I've known you all my life. I think that's one of the things that has always amazed me (and continues to do so). It was almost as if there was no 'getting to know you' phase of our relationship. The information exchange that happened was largely a formality, something that people do when they meet a new person, but not strictly necessary in our case. Whenever you would tell me you liked a certain food or a certain band it was more confirming what I already suspected than discovering new things about you. Wierd huh.
Sometimes we say things to each other like, "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." In fact we do so to a degree that through frequency it starts to lose its potency. Let me just say, for the record that it's as true for me as it was the first time I said it. You are, unconditionally, the sweetest, most forgiving, most decent person I have ever met. I count myself lucky beyond measure that I was even able to meet you. To know that I get to spend my life with you is more than my tiny mind can process.
It was odd preparing for this day, in so many ways I've considered us "married" since before I even moved to Michigan. Before we ever even brought it up in discussion, I already knew that I had found something remarkable and had best play my cards right. I knew from the start that I was the lucky one. So much so, that when we finally did get engaged that it hardly felt like news (to such a degree that I neglected to inform one of my closest friends, sorry Jami). But, by definition, news is 'new', and this wasn't new. This was something I had known for a long time. Something that feels, even now, like it was written and decided well before we ever even knew each other's names. I've never been much of a disciple to Destiny or Fate but the events of the past few months have made a fairly strong case for it.
In addition to being all the things I mentioned above, you are good for me. If I hadn't met you, I'm certain beyond doubt that I'd still be in Boston working at a dead end temp position with nothing musical going for or around me. I'd also be hating every second of it. I most certainly would not be teaching music. You have given me a gift I had pretty much lost somewhere, a confidence in my abilities as a musician. As if all the other things you've done and do for me weren't enough, I could never repay that in a thousand lives of fervant toil. Thank you.
So today we make known to the world, the federal government, and to our God the thing that I've known for a very long time, perhaps longer than I even realize. You are my wife.
Love always,
Kroy
I will write you a song
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
For Your Convenience
I have aquired and implemented a new invention I am thinking of calling Electronic Mail whereby you may send Hate mail, pipebombs, boiled rabbits, and other festive gifts via the World Wide Web. I could have just put a mailto: link in there but that only work if you have an email program configured to launch when you click one of those links. And who does that? Everybody uses webmail. I also could have written it out all normal like but I don't want email harvesters(some of my best readers) to archive my email address and gum up my mailbox, thereby slowing the delivery of my pipebombs and boiled rabbits. If I need cheap Viagra, I know a guy. Also I came up with a snazzy and adorable name for the Kitty Profiles.
edit: Actually I just found a cool idea about how to make it look like a regular link but still thwarting the robots. Either way, it'll have to wait until I'm home.
I have aquired and implemented a new invention I am thinking of calling Electronic Mail whereby you may send Hate mail, pipebombs, boiled rabbits, and other festive gifts via the World Wide Web. I could have just put a mailto: link in there but that only work if you have an email program configured to launch when you click one of those links. And who does that? Everybody uses webmail. I also could have written it out all normal like but I don't want email harvesters(some of my best readers) to archive my email address and gum up my mailbox, thereby slowing the delivery of my pipebombs and boiled rabbits. If I need cheap Viagra, I know a guy. Also I came up with a snazzy and adorable name for the Kitty Profiles.
edit: Actually I just found a cool idea about how to make it look like a regular link but still thwarting the robots. Either way, it'll have to wait until I'm home.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Going to the Chapel, and We're Gonna, et cetera
So this week I'll have a much better excuse for not updating. I'm about to embark on a journey of Frodoian proportions. At last count the drive I have before me is 12 hours, but following my Tolkienian metaphor that'll just get me to the elven home of Imladris. People often talk about chapters of their lives and things opening closing and what not. It's a droll concept that I've never really subscribed to but at this point I feel like that it doesn't come close to describing how my life will irrevocably change before the weekend by half. It's as though my life up to this point were the happy travelings of a young and plucky burgler. Now, some sixty years later, I find myself inheritor of an artifact of unimaginable power and it is left to me to see the Necromancer brought down. Ok. That's the last Middle-earth metaphor, I promise.
The dark irony is, of course, that since I'll be torn from my debiliating addictions, I may actually manage to update this week. Only the Shadow and your hairdresser knows for sure.
-Kroy has gone offline
that jolly jumbuk that you've got in your tucker bag
So this week I'll have a much better excuse for not updating. I'm about to embark on a journey of Frodoian proportions. At last count the drive I have before me is 12 hours, but following my Tolkienian metaphor that'll just get me to the elven home of Imladris. People often talk about chapters of their lives and things opening closing and what not. It's a droll concept that I've never really subscribed to but at this point I feel like that it doesn't come close to describing how my life will irrevocably change before the weekend by half. It's as though my life up to this point were the happy travelings of a young and plucky burgler. Now, some sixty years later, I find myself inheritor of an artifact of unimaginable power and it is left to me to see the Necromancer brought down. Ok. That's the last Middle-earth metaphor, I promise.
The dark irony is, of course, that since I'll be torn from my debiliating addictions, I may actually manage to update this week. Only the Shadow and your hairdresser knows for sure.
-Kroy has gone offline
that jolly jumbuk that you've got in your tucker bag
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
The Conclusion of a Very Rigid Search
I know, I know, I'm not updating much lately. All I can say is, I've been otherwise occupied. I have pressing business with the Twilight's Hammer cult. I'm sure you understand.
In other news, I also just recently had the pleasure of viewing Everything is Illuminated which is an excellent film. It stars everyone's favorite hobbit (well, he wasn't my favorite hobbit but I got much love for Master Samwise). Anyway, unlike some other celebrities who can't seem to find work because of their involvement with certain hallowed franchises, Elijah Wood doesn't seem to be having any trouble maintaining a vibrant work schedule. This was an independent film that I saw trailers for several months ago during one of my scheduled romps through apple trailers. It looked good to me immediately but to my knowledge it never came to any theatres in this area. If it did, I missed it. At any rate, we rented it last night and I can recommend it unconditionally.
The basic story is about this weird little guy who wears his pants too high, this guy collects things. All kinds of crap and he's on a journey to find a woman who was, apparently very important to his Grandfather. It's essentially a road movie. But this is a road movie featuring a crotchety old blind driver, a modern day Prufrock, and a broken English speaking Ukrainian who is of premium comedy making. I don't want to spoil anything about the movie so that's all I'll say besides you should see this movie.
Dr. Jackhole rating: Four Grapes Up
-Kroy has left the server
slapped my dried up carcass
I know, I know, I'm not updating much lately. All I can say is, I've been otherwise occupied. I have pressing business with the Twilight's Hammer cult. I'm sure you understand.
In other news, I also just recently had the pleasure of viewing Everything is Illuminated which is an excellent film. It stars everyone's favorite hobbit (well, he wasn't my favorite hobbit but I got much love for Master Samwise). Anyway, unlike some other celebrities who can't seem to find work because of their involvement with certain hallowed franchises, Elijah Wood doesn't seem to be having any trouble maintaining a vibrant work schedule. This was an independent film that I saw trailers for several months ago during one of my scheduled romps through apple trailers. It looked good to me immediately but to my knowledge it never came to any theatres in this area. If it did, I missed it. At any rate, we rented it last night and I can recommend it unconditionally.
The basic story is about this weird little guy who wears his pants too high, this guy collects things. All kinds of crap and he's on a journey to find a woman who was, apparently very important to his Grandfather. It's essentially a road movie. But this is a road movie featuring a crotchety old blind driver, a modern day Prufrock, and a broken English speaking Ukrainian who is of premium comedy making. I don't want to spoil anything about the movie so that's all I'll say besides you should see this movie.
Dr. Jackhole rating: Four Grapes Up
-Kroy has left the server
slapped my dried up carcass
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
I Shot the Sheriff
Anyone who knows me probably knows me as someone who doesn't really get into a lot of New Age fads or trends. It's also well established fact that my favorite joke ever involves the incineration of other human beings. Would you like to hear it?
Recently a complication has arisen in this arena. Rebecca returned from her job training armed with a bevee of terrifying statistics regarding diet and how eating can kill you (like how eating a single butter scotch in your teens will give you advanced diabetes and make your balls rot off). As such we've made a few minor adjustments to our culinary regiment. My house is now running over with whole grain this and leafy green that. Luckily most of these things are food items closely related to things I liked before so the shift hasn't been too drastic. One thing that has started showing up in my cupboard is Granola. Filthy, stinking, hippie granola. What's worse, in a moment of weakness, I tried it. What's worse yet, in a moment of delicious revelation, I liked it. By itself it's fairly bland but when slaked with half a cup of sugar it's actually quite tasty. Even so, this is entirely too New Age of me. I've always subscribed to the Dennis Leary philosophy of diet. Wherein, red meat tastes like murder and murder tastes pretty fuckin' good. But I can already tell this vile amalgam of grains, raisins, and insect husks is working it's contemptible magic on me.
I've started listening to more Bob Marley for one. Which, in itself isn't' a bad thing, but I mean a lot of Bob Marley. Not only that, but the deeper meanings of his tunes have started affecting me in a visceral way. I tear up every time I hear "Get Up, Stand Up." While Rebecca is at work today I'll be replacing all our doors with bead curtains. I quit showering five days ago. I'm also seeking deeper truths in my search to find Jah. I just changed our wedding plans also, no longer are we getting married in a church. I found a field of poppies where we can stand barefoot and get hitched by a Hindi Yogi. We're getting Phish to play our reception. I'm legally changing my name to Cocoon because I'm a work in progress man. Someday I'll emerge from my mortal shell into something... eternal and groovy.
So next time you see me, I'll be the dreadlocked, patchouli-smelling degenerate.
-Kroy has gone offline
my mind can't clutch the feeling
Anyone who knows me probably knows me as someone who doesn't really get into a lot of New Age fads or trends. It's also well established fact that my favorite joke ever involves the incineration of other human beings. Would you like to hear it?
Q. What's yellow and red and looks good on a hippie?Isn't that great? Anyway, so while I appreciate, even adore, the music that arose from the counterculture movement. I feel very few social ties to it. People with dreadlocks categorically make me uncomfortable. The last thing I'd want would be to be associated with a group of patchouli-smelling degenerates.
A. Fire
Recently a complication has arisen in this arena. Rebecca returned from her job training armed with a bevee of terrifying statistics regarding diet and how eating can kill you (like how eating a single butter scotch in your teens will give you advanced diabetes and make your balls rot off). As such we've made a few minor adjustments to our culinary regiment. My house is now running over with whole grain this and leafy green that. Luckily most of these things are food items closely related to things I liked before so the shift hasn't been too drastic. One thing that has started showing up in my cupboard is Granola. Filthy, stinking, hippie granola. What's worse, in a moment of weakness, I tried it. What's worse yet, in a moment of delicious revelation, I liked it. By itself it's fairly bland but when slaked with half a cup of sugar it's actually quite tasty. Even so, this is entirely too New Age of me. I've always subscribed to the Dennis Leary philosophy of diet. Wherein, red meat tastes like murder and murder tastes pretty fuckin' good. But I can already tell this vile amalgam of grains, raisins, and insect husks is working it's contemptible magic on me.
I've started listening to more Bob Marley for one. Which, in itself isn't' a bad thing, but I mean a lot of Bob Marley. Not only that, but the deeper meanings of his tunes have started affecting me in a visceral way. I tear up every time I hear "Get Up, Stand Up." While Rebecca is at work today I'll be replacing all our doors with bead curtains. I quit showering five days ago. I'm also seeking deeper truths in my search to find Jah. I just changed our wedding plans also, no longer are we getting married in a church. I found a field of poppies where we can stand barefoot and get hitched by a Hindi Yogi. We're getting Phish to play our reception. I'm legally changing my name to Cocoon because I'm a work in progress man. Someday I'll emerge from my mortal shell into something... eternal and groovy.
So next time you see me, I'll be the dreadlocked, patchouli-smelling degenerate.
-Kroy has gone offline
my mind can't clutch the feeling
Monday, April 03, 2006
Whatcha Gonna Do When They Come for You
I haven't 'guffawed' at an internet video in a while so this definitely warrants sharing. Props to Greg in the desert southwest for wresting this gem from the bowels of the internet.
I haven't 'guffawed' at an internet video in a while so this definitely warrants sharing. Props to Greg in the desert southwest for wresting this gem from the bowels of the internet.
| Dungeons & Dragons Watch it now on StupidVideos! |
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Conversations
[During a lengthy discussion on the theological differences between the Catholic and Charismatic Protestant sects of Christianity.]
"So they pretty much believe in an non-uniform age of accountability at which point a person becomes responsible for their actions is therefore eli-."
"HOLY SHIT WE NEED TO BUY A LOTTERY TICKET!"
[During a lengthy discussion on the theological differences between the Catholic and Charismatic Protestant sects of Christianity.]
"So they pretty much believe in an non-uniform age of accountability at which point a person becomes responsible for their actions is therefore eli-."
"HOLY SHIT WE NEED TO BUY A LOTTERY TICKET!"
Wrapped Up Like a Duece
I've been thinking about more things I could do to The Hole to make it a little bit snazzier. One thing is that I think I'm going to start rip off Dooce's custom of creating mastheads for her website. There are two things we should clear up before I commit to this though. One, she like updates a new masthead every month or so, whereas I'll be updating it once per whever-I-feel-like-it. It could be four in one day, it might be once per liturgical season. The guessing is half the fun! Secondly, Her Dooceness was once paid to design websites and uses Photoshop like it's an extension of her mortal body. The images I'll be producing will likely be vile and blasphemous in the name of modern design. Pointing and laughing at my trivial attempts to create something purty will be the other half of the fun. What does everyone think of that? Discuss.
Just a note: you are encouraged to comment below but be warned that I'll end up doing whatever the hell I want anyway.
I've been thinking about more things I could do to The Hole to make it a little bit snazzier. One thing is that I think I'm going to start rip off Dooce's custom of creating mastheads for her website. There are two things we should clear up before I commit to this though. One, she like updates a new masthead every month or so, whereas I'll be updating it once per whever-I-feel-like-it. It could be four in one day, it might be once per liturgical season. The guessing is half the fun! Secondly, Her Dooceness was once paid to design websites and uses Photoshop like it's an extension of her mortal body. The images I'll be producing will likely be vile and blasphemous in the name of modern design. Pointing and laughing at my trivial attempts to create something purty will be the other half of the fun. What does everyone think of that? Discuss.
Just a note: you are encouraged to comment below but be warned that I'll end up doing whatever the hell I want anyway.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
The Family that Slays Together, Stays Together
In the same vein as the digitial gravity I discussed yesterday, there is another phenomena I have recently fallen prey to. I don't really have a name for it yet but I bet I will by the end of this post. So here's the story if for those of you joining us mid-season:
Many moons ago (nearly two years now) a friend and I got in on the beta of a video game called World of Warcraft. World of Warcraft (hereafter referred to as WoW) is what's called a Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game (hereafter refered to as MMORPG or just plain ol' MMO, sorry geeks love their acronyms). In layman's terms, it's a video game that you play with a shit load of other people from all over the globe all at the same time. Anyway, WoW is one of them and I got into the beta. Overnight, this game consumed my life. I played for hours a day until the beta phase of development closed (sometime around October) then purchased the game as soon as it was released to the public and continued on playing for almost a year more.
During this time Rebecca began playing as well and we played together. Given the distant nature of our early relationship (geographically, not emotionally), WoW served as a viable mechanism for us to communicate and "date". It was during this time that the above adage, that also serves as today's title, was coined. Long story... uh.. less long, Rebecca frequented a coffee shop where she would drink some kind of gross coffee drink and make use of their wireless network to play WoW with me. All the while, I would sit in my gross apartment and drink sweet tea and play WoW with her. She often got asked about what she was doing as passers-by could see what was going on her laptop was not your typical internet browsing or spread sheeting. If memory serves it was one of the coffee guys that coined the phrase. Anyway, for nearly a year and a half (counting the beta) I played this game on a daily basis, often for stretches that I'm ashamed to admit to the non-gaming public (hereafter refered to as Normies).
During this time some friends and I founded a guild in the game. We wanted to make sure we adhered to a high standard of excellence and not just allow any Kothar, Shemak, or Imadlesolersys into our guild. We had expectations for our current and prospective members that included, but was not limited to: a healthy appreciation for fart jokes, the ability to "be cool", and a love of foul language. I am happy to say, a year and a half later the guild we started is still going strong. It is also a matter of some pride on my part, and for the other founders, that even though the guild has been around for quite a while (as imaginary virtual coalitions go) it has remembered it's roots and is still full to bursting with fart-joking, potty-mouthed, cool-dudes-and-dudettes.
How can I possibly know this? You might ask since you remember that I quit playing some months ago. Well a few reasons, a) there's the board that I linked earlier, I stayed on it and kept in touch with several of the members even after my departure, 2) without their knowledge I planted several sleeper agents within the ranks of the guild ready to go positively batshit on my whim, and D) I started playing again a couple of weeks ago.
After Rebecca and I quit we were pretty good for a long time about overcoming our addiction. I would only occasionally check the official WoW website, which, at the height of my sickness, had been a daily ritual for months on end. Then, as the months, passed we started developing noticable ticks and twitches. We did our best not to talk about it for a long time, but the cause was obvious. We also kept in contact with a good buddy, Jared (who assured me he was going to set up a blog), who had stayed in the game and kept us rapt with news about all the cool things we were missing. Jared also constantly would tempt us to come back like a stranger with candy. Naughty, naughty candy. So I guess one name for this unnamable phenomena that sucked me back into the game could be, Peer Pressure.
I don't have as much time to play as I used to but I'm hoping to get some quality over quantity time in with the game on this second go-round. If things don't go as planned, I've still got plan Q) with finger poised directly over the batshit button.
-Kroy has gone offline
count the time in quartertones to ten
In the same vein as the digitial gravity I discussed yesterday, there is another phenomena I have recently fallen prey to. I don't really have a name for it yet but I bet I will by the end of this post. So here's the story if for those of you joining us mid-season:
Many moons ago (nearly two years now) a friend and I got in on the beta of a video game called World of Warcraft. World of Warcraft (hereafter referred to as WoW) is what's called a Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game (hereafter refered to as MMORPG or just plain ol' MMO, sorry geeks love their acronyms). In layman's terms, it's a video game that you play with a shit load of other people from all over the globe all at the same time. Anyway, WoW is one of them and I got into the beta. Overnight, this game consumed my life. I played for hours a day until the beta phase of development closed (sometime around October) then purchased the game as soon as it was released to the public and continued on playing for almost a year more.
During this time Rebecca began playing as well and we played together. Given the distant nature of our early relationship (geographically, not emotionally), WoW served as a viable mechanism for us to communicate and "date". It was during this time that the above adage, that also serves as today's title, was coined. Long story... uh.. less long, Rebecca frequented a coffee shop where she would drink some kind of gross coffee drink and make use of their wireless network to play WoW with me. All the while, I would sit in my gross apartment and drink sweet tea and play WoW with her. She often got asked about what she was doing as passers-by could see what was going on her laptop was not your typical internet browsing or spread sheeting. If memory serves it was one of the coffee guys that coined the phrase. Anyway, for nearly a year and a half (counting the beta) I played this game on a daily basis, often for stretches that I'm ashamed to admit to the non-gaming public (hereafter refered to as Normies).
During this time some friends and I founded a guild in the game. We wanted to make sure we adhered to a high standard of excellence and not just allow any Kothar, Shemak, or Imadlesolersys into our guild. We had expectations for our current and prospective members that included, but was not limited to: a healthy appreciation for fart jokes, the ability to "be cool", and a love of foul language. I am happy to say, a year and a half later the guild we started is still going strong. It is also a matter of some pride on my part, and for the other founders, that even though the guild has been around for quite a while (as imaginary virtual coalitions go) it has remembered it's roots and is still full to bursting with fart-joking, potty-mouthed, cool-dudes-and-dudettes.
How can I possibly know this? You might ask since you remember that I quit playing some months ago. Well a few reasons, a) there's the board that I linked earlier, I stayed on it and kept in touch with several of the members even after my departure, 2) without their knowledge I planted several sleeper agents within the ranks of the guild ready to go positively batshit on my whim, and D) I started playing again a couple of weeks ago.
After Rebecca and I quit we were pretty good for a long time about overcoming our addiction. I would only occasionally check the official WoW website, which, at the height of my sickness, had been a daily ritual for months on end. Then, as the months, passed we started developing noticable ticks and twitches. We did our best not to talk about it for a long time, but the cause was obvious. We also kept in contact with a good buddy, Jared (who assured me he was going to set up a blog), who had stayed in the game and kept us rapt with news about all the cool things we were missing. Jared also constantly would tempt us to come back like a stranger with candy. Naughty, naughty candy. So I guess one name for this unnamable phenomena that sucked me back into the game could be, Peer Pressure.
I don't have as much time to play as I used to but I'm hoping to get some quality over quantity time in with the game on this second go-round. If things don't go as planned, I've still got plan Q) with finger poised directly over the batshit button.
-Kroy has gone offline
count the time in quartertones to ten
Monday, March 27, 2006
Stick It Up Your Ass Newton
I want to alert you to a previously undocumented phenomenea. You might call this a discovery of sorts. I've never really discovered anything. Unless you count the kinds of things you 'discover' when you clean out your fridge after a long winter. I actually discovered some things over the last two weeks while I was "bachin' it" while Rebecca was out of town for her new job training. The tests and trials of that period are another entry altogether. This one is about my discovery. I'm not much of a scientist and I don't think this is necessarily verifiable but it is repeatable. I'm calling it Digital Gravity, or maybe Digrivity. Anyway, it's this thing that happens to me when I'm in the house. The internet seems to exert some kind of eldritch force on my person, drawing me to it always. I've noticed that if I don't stay on task 100% of the time, I will drift inexorably toward the computer and open a brower to the internets.
This can happen even if I'm like getting ready to go somewhere and am running a few minutes late. I can't tell you how many times I've been brushing my teeth in front of the bathroom mirror, letting my mind wander harmlessly then suddenly finding myself in front of my computer typing in any number of URLs I visit regularly. I shake out of my reverie and cuss a blue streak telling myself I don't have time for that sort of thing I have to get going. Several minutes later as I'm surfing ebay, my head explodes.
I suspect that others may be similarly affected by the television, knitting, and ouija boards. All I know is that I'm helpless against it and that it is not a viable excuse for being late someplace. "Sorry I'm running a few minutes late, the internet siezed my mind." I'm starting to think the nerds that go about with aluminum foil in their back pockets may be on to something.
Anybody else out there experience anything like this?
-Kroy has gone offline
crashed a mother and son cold dead
I want to alert you to a previously undocumented phenomenea. You might call this a discovery of sorts. I've never really discovered anything. Unless you count the kinds of things you 'discover' when you clean out your fridge after a long winter. I actually discovered some things over the last two weeks while I was "bachin' it" while Rebecca was out of town for her new job training. The tests and trials of that period are another entry altogether. This one is about my discovery. I'm not much of a scientist and I don't think this is necessarily verifiable but it is repeatable. I'm calling it Digital Gravity, or maybe Digrivity. Anyway, it's this thing that happens to me when I'm in the house. The internet seems to exert some kind of eldritch force on my person, drawing me to it always. I've noticed that if I don't stay on task 100% of the time, I will drift inexorably toward the computer and open a brower to the internets.
This can happen even if I'm like getting ready to go somewhere and am running a few minutes late. I can't tell you how many times I've been brushing my teeth in front of the bathroom mirror, letting my mind wander harmlessly then suddenly finding myself in front of my computer typing in any number of URLs I visit regularly. I shake out of my reverie and cuss a blue streak telling myself I don't have time for that sort of thing I have to get going. Several minutes later as I'm surfing ebay, my head explodes.
I suspect that others may be similarly affected by the television, knitting, and ouija boards. All I know is that I'm helpless against it and that it is not a viable excuse for being late someplace. "Sorry I'm running a few minutes late, the internet siezed my mind." I'm starting to think the nerds that go about with aluminum foil in their back pockets may be on to something.
Anybody else out there experience anything like this?
-Kroy has gone offline
crashed a mother and son cold dead
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Afternoon Quicky
I've just found something that will likely be a source of random entertainment for a really long time. It's called Bash.org. I'll let you work out the URL on your own. It's a collection of humerous IM conversations.
Here are a couple of favorites so far.
I've just found something that will likely be a source of random entertainment for a really long time. It's called Bash.org. I'll let you work out the URL on your own. It's a collection of humerous IM conversations.
Here are a couple of favorites so far.
#628906 (593)
#628022 +(568)
i broke my leg masturbating is evil
<[Slaryn> O_O I hope to god those two incidents weren't relatedtohayer: My windows machine crashes scarily
tohayer: Whatever audio is playing, slows down
tohayer: Like when Dave is disconnecting Hal's memory
tohayer: "Ted... Ted... why are you opening the task manager. You're scaring me, Ted"
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Give Me Sight Beyond Sight
I am happy to report that my acquisition of the aforementioned entertainment went off without a hitch and my life is now bursting with samurais named Jack.
In other news, if you watched the video I posted the other day you were likely as dumbstruck as I was the first time I watched it. I've since watched it probably three or four times since as I've shown it to others. I'm still fairly stunned by it. I feel a naughty tingle each time it pulls out further and further into space. If you're interested in knowing a little more about it there is also this video, a fully rendered version of the talk from which all that gameplay footage came originally given by Will Wright - the guy responsible for The Sims. Between each segment is about a ten minute little blurb about how they're doing all those interesting things in this game and what drove them to this end in the first place.
Even in the shorter version of the gameplay footage Will uses the buzz word "procedural" many times. I'm by no means an expert on this stuff but that's never stopped me from handing out ill-informed opinions. As I understand it, before the advent of the CD-ROM games were, for the most part, made to be as small as possible. All of the millions of lines of code, graphics, and behaviors had to squeezed onto 3.5" floppy discs. The use of algorithms was popular in order to get the maximum amount of compression. Again, I'm no math whiz but basically what that means is they had they used the player's computer to run the algorithms or formulae on the discs to get the end product. That way, they minimized the need for raw data space. Once CD-ROMs hit, then they had all this space on a disc and I game design shifted more toward filling up data than these algorithms. That's the way things have been for several years now. With this game, Spore, Maxis has gone back to this algorithmic structure for creating the world that the player occupies. So everything in the gameplay trailer you saw, except for the evolved creature and the city he built, was generated by the computer on the fly, so to speak.
This kind of thinking may be old hat in the computing world but it confounds my dumb cracker mind. I mean, I understand it on a conceptual level, about the same way that I understand, conceptually, what a black hole is. If they tell me they can generate that entire solar system, ye even a galaxy, I'll just believe them on and go on breeding my race of Thundercats™™.
What I'm really interested in, is this idea that you pull content from other people's computers. They plan to have a master database that each game synchs to and when that synching occurs they'll suck up all the things you've created in your game and re-distribute it back out to the world as random encounters. I'm really curious if you can be selective about who's content you pull down. Say I want a planet where my Thundercats™™ can live caught in an eternal struggle with a friend of mine's warlike clan of My Little Ponies™™. I would like the option to choose a race or tribe that can be my primary aggressor.
-Kroy has gone offline
mean and strong like fear
I am happy to report that my acquisition of the aforementioned entertainment went off without a hitch and my life is now bursting with samurais named Jack.
In other news, if you watched the video I posted the other day you were likely as dumbstruck as I was the first time I watched it. I've since watched it probably three or four times since as I've shown it to others. I'm still fairly stunned by it. I feel a naughty tingle each time it pulls out further and further into space. If you're interested in knowing a little more about it there is also this video, a fully rendered version of the talk from which all that gameplay footage came originally given by Will Wright - the guy responsible for The Sims. Between each segment is about a ten minute little blurb about how they're doing all those interesting things in this game and what drove them to this end in the first place.
Even in the shorter version of the gameplay footage Will uses the buzz word "procedural" many times. I'm by no means an expert on this stuff but that's never stopped me from handing out ill-informed opinions. As I understand it, before the advent of the CD-ROM games were, for the most part, made to be as small as possible. All of the millions of lines of code, graphics, and behaviors had to squeezed onto 3.5" floppy discs. The use of algorithms was popular in order to get the maximum amount of compression. Again, I'm no math whiz but basically what that means is they had they used the player's computer to run the algorithms or formulae on the discs to get the end product. That way, they minimized the need for raw data space. Once CD-ROMs hit, then they had all this space on a disc and I game design shifted more toward filling up data than these algorithms. That's the way things have been for several years now. With this game, Spore, Maxis has gone back to this algorithmic structure for creating the world that the player occupies. So everything in the gameplay trailer you saw, except for the evolved creature and the city he built, was generated by the computer on the fly, so to speak.
This kind of thinking may be old hat in the computing world but it confounds my dumb cracker mind. I mean, I understand it on a conceptual level, about the same way that I understand, conceptually, what a black hole is. If they tell me they can generate that entire solar system, ye even a galaxy, I'll just believe them on and go on breeding my race of Thundercats™™.
What I'm really interested in, is this idea that you pull content from other people's computers. They plan to have a master database that each game synchs to and when that synching occurs they'll suck up all the things you've created in your game and re-distribute it back out to the world as random encounters. I'm really curious if you can be selective about who's content you pull down. Say I want a planet where my Thundercats™™ can live caught in an eternal struggle with a friend of mine's warlike clan of My Little Ponies™™. I would like the option to choose a race or tribe that can be my primary aggressor.
-Kroy has gone offline
mean and strong like fear
You've Probably Got Better Things to Do Anyway
Blogger has been swallowing it's own tongue for a few days and I haven't been able to update. It seems to be working now so I'll probably put something up of substance this evening. Your time is likely better spent elsewhere anyway. Shouldn't you be reading a book, calling your mama, or catching up with an old friend? Whatever. We both know you're just going to sit on your big ass and watch American Idol.
Blogger has been swallowing it's own tongue for a few days and I haven't been able to update. It seems to be working now so I'll probably put something up of substance this evening. Your time is likely better spent elsewhere anyway. Shouldn't you be reading a book, calling your mama, or catching up with an old friend? Whatever. We both know you're just going to sit on your big ass and watch American Idol.
Friday, March 17, 2006
Shapeshifting Master of Darkness
It's been a slow week here I know. Everything else in my life has become secondary until my I finish downloading my torrent of Samurai Jack.
In the meantime, here's yet another video for you to enjoy. It's pretty long so if you're watching from work you may want to take it in ten minute pieces. Like tiny rewards for finishing your third-quarter projection analysis spreadsheets, or whatever it is you do.
The video itself is batting a thousand for "holy shit" factor. As in, everyone I've shown it to up to this point has, at some point, gone "Holy Shit". The future of video games? Probably more like one plausible future. I don't really have time to go into the little bit that I actually understand about this thing but if you have any interest in games check it out. If you're not but are intrigued by complex structures, check it out. If you're not but you think monkies with guns are funny, check it out. If you don't but you liked Star Trek 3, check it out. Ok, I'm done.
It's been a slow week here I know. Everything else in my life has become secondary until my I finish downloading my torrent of Samurai Jack.
In the meantime, here's yet another video for you to enjoy. It's pretty long so if you're watching from work you may want to take it in ten minute pieces. Like tiny rewards for finishing your third-quarter projection analysis spreadsheets, or whatever it is you do.
The video itself is batting a thousand for "holy shit" factor. As in, everyone I've shown it to up to this point has, at some point, gone "Holy Shit". The future of video games? Probably more like one plausible future. I don't really have time to go into the little bit that I actually understand about this thing but if you have any interest in games check it out. If you're not but are intrigued by complex structures, check it out. If you're not but you think monkies with guns are funny, check it out. If you don't but you liked Star Trek 3, check it out. Ok, I'm done.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
I am Galstaff, Sorcerer of Light!
I think I gamed with these guys at U-Con. It's a fairly long video so it may take a while to load even if you have a broadband connection. If you don't have broadband connection, you might want to think about joining the rest of us in the 21st century.
Monday, March 13, 2006
Kitty Profile: Bonham - The Feline Garbage Disposal
Name: Bonham
Origin of Name: Rock drumming legend John Bonham
Breed: Hungry
Age: 3
Hobbies and Interests: Eating, Jumping, Climbing Doorways, Stealing Porkchops, Making out with Daphne, Stealing BBQ, Making out with Scratch, Tormenting Daphne, Stealing Chicken, Napping on dark clothes.
Background: Bonham was the cat that I brought to our relationship. I'd had him for almost two years when I moved to Michigan. I got Bonham while I was still living in South Carolina. I had just gotten my first place completely by myself. Before then, I'd either lived at home or with a roommate. The one thing that struck me about living alone was the abject emptiness of the place. I was pretty busy with graduate school at the time and would often come in after the sun had down but I was used to a roommate or other animal greeting me at the door. My previous roommate had had two cats of her own. Even if she herself were not home at the time, there were at least a couple of cats to look up and disregard me immediately. You know, a little something that felt like home. Once I was on my own all I had was my milk crate loveseat (no couch yet) and the dustbunny in the corn that I had named Floppo. It soon became apparent that I needed a pet, a real pet. Some friends told me about a no kill shelter in Columbia so I checked it out.
I want to be clear on one thing. When it comes to animals, I like them. People piss me right off, but animals I like. So it was difficult not to be moved when I visited the shelter the first time and, upon entering the cat room, was immediately covered over by kitties of all ages and personality. I was primarily interested in a kitten. They had tons of kittens and the most boisterous of the kittens were the first ones to climb all over me. There were some who were obviously too rambunctious for what I wanted. Others were a little more mild mannered and I eventually found one that I thought would make a good match. It was a little girl kitty who - instead of climbing into my lap or up my shirt, heedless of the skin underneath - actively sought out my empty hands and forcibly pushed her head into them to make certain that I pet her just in case my attentions were elsewhere. Even if that meant standing up on her hind legs to reach up a bit higher to reach my hands. She really was a cutie. I had already been at the shelter for almost two hours and they were set to be closing soon so I decided I should head out.
As I was leaving the cat room (itself, an unbearably difficult act) I stopped to talk to a few of the staff members about the process of adoption. In the main lobby the staff allowed a couple of the more docile and tolerant cats and dogs to roam freely and sort act as greeters. While I was standing around talking to the staff this fairly-young-but-not-quite-a-kitten of a cat strolled up next to me along a table top. He looked like he was about a year old. I idlely reached down to give the little guy a pet to which he responded fairly naturally. I continued talking without really looking and soon I felt a pair of paws pressed insistently on my shoulder. This cat was looking up at me with his paws extended like an infant asking to be picked up. Well this was a gesture I found I was well and truly powerless against. So I reached down a bit to lift him up, as soon as he saw I was complying he gripped my shoulder firmly with his claws and helped himself up into my arms. He seemed perfectly content to be held "baby-style" perched up and looking back over my shoulder as I petted him and continued talking to the staff. At several intervals I tried to put the little fella down and he would have non of it. He'd dig his claws in and just hang on such that I couldn't. It was strange how much like an actual child he acted. He even buried his face into the hollow of my neck while I was holding him (he still does this from time to time). His story wasn't a necessarily tragic one (especially when compared to some of the rescues) the last family that had had him had to give him because of a rivalry on the other cat's part. Eventually I managed to detach him from my shoulder and get out the door and drive home. At the time I had been listening to a lot of Zeppelin, I was particularly interested in their mixed meter stuff and the way their drummer navigated the uneven waters of Jimmy Paige's oddball guitar riffs. So as soon as I got into my car something like When the Levee Breaks came on.
I considered about which cat I actually wanted and had decided on getting two cats so they could keep each other company while I wasn't around. I still had it in my mind that I would get two kittens. As soon as I came in the door, Bonham (who they were calling Rori, which I think is a terrible name for this cat) hopped right up from where he was lounging and came over to me. He seemed to remember that I was the putz that was easily taken in by his wiles. It turned out that the little girl kitten I liked had just been fixed and was unavailable for adoption for a day or two while they made sure she came through everything ok. I essentially was forced to take Bonham that day. One, to save him from the atrocious name they had given him. Two, because I would have required surgery to remove him from my shoulder a second time. I could see it in his eyes, he hated the name. He would look at me as if to say, "Have you heard what they're calling me? Rori? Do they think I'm a personal trainer or something." It really became a decision I had very little to do with. They just handed me the paperwork and told me how much he was going to cost me and I took him home and rechristened Bonham (much to his relief, I'm sure).
At first he was very co-dependent. He didn't like being alone one bit. I didn't have a very large apartment but if he lost his way between the litter box and the living room he would just stand there and cry until I came and found him. He would launch himself into my arms and refuse to be put down. If I was watching a movie or playing a game he would sit in my lap or beside me on the couch (by then I had one) with his back to me. I think it's these slightly human characteristics that fostered a kind of paternal instinct in me. He's like a child who's ass I've never had to wipe.
Soon after I brought him home I discovered that I had actually chosen a cat who was also an accomplished food critic. Not of cat food, mind you, but of people food. Whenever I cooked something or brought it in he would perch himself nearby and stare at me impatiently. This continues to this day. This cat will eat anything, anything, at least once. I once gave him a leaf of raw lettuce from a salad I was making, thinking surely he would want nothing to do with it. To my great surprise, he gulped it down and stared up at me waiting for seconds. Raw fucking lettuce. Rebecca and I come up with amusing pitches that we figure he must use on us to convince us to part with our... whatever we're eating at the time. "Oooh, you're having french fries? I looove french fries. My family way back on my gandpappy's side is French. It's in my blood you see."
The pictures are deceiving because they generally show him at rest. That's because he's only active when there are cheetos at stake, or perhaps pop tarts, chocolate chip cookies, Dutch apple crisp, sloppy joes, chilli, spaghetti, bean curry, or corn on the cob (one of his favorites). The only time he's ever acts the least bit aggressive is in defense of his hard won spoils and table scraps. Since we have introduced him to life with other cats he's become less co-dependent but is still pretty affectionate and likes nothing more than to sit down beside one of us, bury his face into our leg, and purr happily until someone makes a move for the kitchen.
-Kroy has gone offline
We come from the land of the ice and snow
Name: Bonham
Origin of Name: Rock drumming legend John Bonham
Breed: Hungry
Age: 3
Hobbies and Interests: Eating, Jumping, Climbing Doorways, Stealing Porkchops, Making out with Daphne, Stealing BBQ, Making out with Scratch, Tormenting Daphne, Stealing Chicken, Napping on dark clothes.
Background: Bonham was the cat that I brought to our relationship. I'd had him for almost two years when I moved to Michigan. I got Bonham while I was still living in South Carolina. I had just gotten my first place completely by myself. Before then, I'd either lived at home or with a roommate. The one thing that struck me about living alone was the abject emptiness of the place. I was pretty busy with graduate school at the time and would often come in after the sun had down but I was used to a roommate or other animal greeting me at the door. My previous roommate had had two cats of her own. Even if she herself were not home at the time, there were at least a couple of cats to look up and disregard me immediately. You know, a little something that felt like home. Once I was on my own all I had was my milk crate loveseat (no couch yet) and the dustbunny in the corn that I had named Floppo. It soon became apparent that I needed a pet, a real pet. Some friends told me about a no kill shelter in Columbia so I checked it out.
I want to be clear on one thing. When it comes to animals, I like them. People piss me right off, but animals I like. So it was difficult not to be moved when I visited the shelter the first time and, upon entering the cat room, was immediately covered over by kitties of all ages and personality. I was primarily interested in a kitten. They had tons of kittens and the most boisterous of the kittens were the first ones to climb all over me. There were some who were obviously too rambunctious for what I wanted. Others were a little more mild mannered and I eventually found one that I thought would make a good match. It was a little girl kitty who - instead of climbing into my lap or up my shirt, heedless of the skin underneath - actively sought out my empty hands and forcibly pushed her head into them to make certain that I pet her just in case my attentions were elsewhere. Even if that meant standing up on her hind legs to reach up a bit higher to reach my hands. She really was a cutie. I had already been at the shelter for almost two hours and they were set to be closing soon so I decided I should head out.
As I was leaving the cat room (itself, an unbearably difficult act) I stopped to talk to a few of the staff members about the process of adoption. In the main lobby the staff allowed a couple of the more docile and tolerant cats and dogs to roam freely and sort act as greeters. While I was standing around talking to the staff this fairly-young-but-not-quite-a-kitten of a cat strolled up next to me along a table top. He looked like he was about a year old. I idlely reached down to give the little guy a pet to which he responded fairly naturally. I continued talking without really looking and soon I felt a pair of paws pressed insistently on my shoulder. This cat was looking up at me with his paws extended like an infant asking to be picked up. Well this was a gesture I found I was well and truly powerless against. So I reached down a bit to lift him up, as soon as he saw I was complying he gripped my shoulder firmly with his claws and helped himself up into my arms. He seemed perfectly content to be held "baby-style" perched up and looking back over my shoulder as I petted him and continued talking to the staff. At several intervals I tried to put the little fella down and he would have non of it. He'd dig his claws in and just hang on such that I couldn't. It was strange how much like an actual child he acted. He even buried his face into the hollow of my neck while I was holding him (he still does this from time to time). His story wasn't a necessarily tragic one (especially when compared to some of the rescues) the last family that had had him had to give him because of a rivalry on the other cat's part. Eventually I managed to detach him from my shoulder and get out the door and drive home. At the time I had been listening to a lot of Zeppelin, I was particularly interested in their mixed meter stuff and the way their drummer navigated the uneven waters of Jimmy Paige's oddball guitar riffs. So as soon as I got into my car something like When the Levee Breaks came on.
I considered about which cat I actually wanted and had decided on getting two cats so they could keep each other company while I wasn't around. I still had it in my mind that I would get two kittens. As soon as I came in the door, Bonham (who they were calling Rori, which I think is a terrible name for this cat) hopped right up from where he was lounging and came over to me. He seemed to remember that I was the putz that was easily taken in by his wiles. It turned out that the little girl kitten I liked had just been fixed and was unavailable for adoption for a day or two while they made sure she came through everything ok. I essentially was forced to take Bonham that day. One, to save him from the atrocious name they had given him. Two, because I would have required surgery to remove him from my shoulder a second time. I could see it in his eyes, he hated the name. He would look at me as if to say, "Have you heard what they're calling me? Rori? Do they think I'm a personal trainer or something." It really became a decision I had very little to do with. They just handed me the paperwork and told me how much he was going to cost me and I took him home and rechristened Bonham (much to his relief, I'm sure).At first he was very co-dependent. He didn't like being alone one bit. I didn't have a very large apartment but if he lost his way between the litter box and the living room he would just stand there and cry until I came and found him. He would launch himself into my arms and refuse to be put down. If I was watching a movie or playing a game he would sit in my lap or beside me on the couch (by then I had one) with his back to me. I think it's these slightly human characteristics that fostered a kind of paternal instinct in me. He's like a child who's ass I've never had to wipe.
Soon after I brought him home I discovered that I had actually chosen a cat who was also an accomplished food critic. Not of cat food, mind you, but of people food. Whenever I cooked something or brought it in he would perch himself nearby and stare at me impatiently. This continues to this day. This cat will eat anything, anything, at least once. I once gave him a leaf of raw lettuce from a salad I was making, thinking surely he would want nothing to do with it. To my great surprise, he gulped it down and stared up at me waiting for seconds. Raw fucking lettuce. Rebecca and I come up with amusing pitches that we figure he must use on us to convince us to part with our... whatever we're eating at the time. "Oooh, you're having french fries? I looove french fries. My family way back on my gandpappy's side is French. It's in my blood you see."
The pictures are deceiving because they generally show him at rest. That's because he's only active when there are cheetos at stake, or perhaps pop tarts, chocolate chip cookies, Dutch apple crisp, sloppy joes, chilli, spaghetti, bean curry, or corn on the cob (one of his favorites). The only time he's ever acts the least bit aggressive is in defense of his hard won spoils and table scraps. Since we have introduced him to life with other cats he's become less co-dependent but is still pretty affectionate and likes nothing more than to sit down beside one of us, bury his face into our leg, and purr happily until someone makes a move for the kitchen.
-Kroy has gone offline
We come from the land of the ice and snow
Sunday, March 12, 2006
I think I must be afraid of heights
(Just a word of warning to the weak of constitution, Star Wars™™ references and clichés will abound. You may also find a Lord of the Rings quote as well. That is all.)
Had a pretty interesting dream last night and just figured I'd share. It's odd and kind of strange when I actually remember my dreams, usually I have no memory of the things I dream at night. However, when I do remember, I remember a lot of them or I recall one particularly vividly. This was a case of the latter.
The first thing I remember is that I was directing a large scale space battle. Now at a glance, it's obvious to me, even in a dream state that isn't just any space battle. This is a Star Wars™™(!!!) space battle. I can only assume this has something to do with the fact that Empire at War just came out and I've had a hankerin' something fierce to play it. So anyway, I'm directing this major space battle and it's hard to tell whether or not we're winning or losing, I'm just having all my ships shoot at all the other ships and kind of hoping for the best. It seems I'm not a great tactician without my waking mind to guide me. At one point it becomes clear to me that the opposition, the rebel scum, are planning to board one of my major ships. As soon as the ships make contact with one another, my dream switches from the perspective of an RTS to an Shooter. All of a sudden, I was on the deck of my ship which was about to be boarded and cycling through an array of ordinance the likes of which God has never seen. So we, me and my faithful crew aboard the ISD Helotry awaited the boarding party with our "nines cocked," if you will. So the door blow open and who should storm aboard but Han and Chewie. Well we fought on undaunted, no scruffy looking nerf-herder or his walking carpet were going to take down my ship, especially in my fucking dream world. I loaded up my hot little sniper laser thing and put two into Chewie's forehead before he could say, "AHHH-NNNHH-GHHHHH."
I'm here to impart to you some very important wisdom. Even in the world of dreams, Wookiees are tough as balls.
I shot him. I shot him twice, in the head. Soon after I had one seriously pissed off Wookiee on my ass. So I ran. I ran fast and I ran long. I ran like my ass was on fire and my hair was catching. There were a couple of close calls and he very nearly took my head off at a couple of junctures but all the while my valiant crew was lighting that big bastard up like Yavin 4.
I eventually made it out into the parking lot of a shopping mall. Because, obviously, ISDs have their own commerce district. I warned the nearest police officer I could find that the Rebel Scum™ had boarded the ship and were on their way. He dutifully offered me his sidearm and went off to warn the populace. I turned and saw my fate before me as the tireless Chewbacca burst through the door and slowly approached. I continued backing off and loaded the pistol the cop had given me and raised it for my final showdown.
A shot rang out.
I looked up and Chewie seemed as dazed as I was but he fell. Through fire and water, from the lowest dungeon to the highest peak I fought the Wookiee of Kashyyyk, until at last I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin up on the... curb... side. Yeah, I killed him. I killed Chewbacca, with a gun. If I learned anything from the whole experience is that energy weapons are shit versus Wookiees. Ballistic weapons on the other hand, smoke their furry asses.
-Kroy has gone offline
That's why all the folks on Rocky Top get their corn from a jar
(Just a word of warning to the weak of constitution, Star Wars™™ references and clichés will abound. You may also find a Lord of the Rings quote as well. That is all.)
Had a pretty interesting dream last night and just figured I'd share. It's odd and kind of strange when I actually remember my dreams, usually I have no memory of the things I dream at night. However, when I do remember, I remember a lot of them or I recall one particularly vividly. This was a case of the latter.
The first thing I remember is that I was directing a large scale space battle. Now at a glance, it's obvious to me, even in a dream state that isn't just any space battle. This is a Star Wars™™(!!!) space battle. I can only assume this has something to do with the fact that Empire at War just came out and I've had a hankerin' something fierce to play it. So anyway, I'm directing this major space battle and it's hard to tell whether or not we're winning or losing, I'm just having all my ships shoot at all the other ships and kind of hoping for the best. It seems I'm not a great tactician without my waking mind to guide me. At one point it becomes clear to me that the opposition, the rebel scum, are planning to board one of my major ships. As soon as the ships make contact with one another, my dream switches from the perspective of an RTS to an Shooter. All of a sudden, I was on the deck of my ship which was about to be boarded and cycling through an array of ordinance the likes of which God has never seen. So we, me and my faithful crew aboard the ISD Helotry awaited the boarding party with our "nines cocked," if you will. So the door blow open and who should storm aboard but Han and Chewie. Well we fought on undaunted, no scruffy looking nerf-herder or his walking carpet were going to take down my ship, especially in my fucking dream world. I loaded up my hot little sniper laser thing and put two into Chewie's forehead before he could say, "AHHH-NNNHH-GHHHHH."
I'm here to impart to you some very important wisdom. Even in the world of dreams, Wookiees are tough as balls.
I shot him. I shot him twice, in the head. Soon after I had one seriously pissed off Wookiee on my ass. So I ran. I ran fast and I ran long. I ran like my ass was on fire and my hair was catching. There were a couple of close calls and he very nearly took my head off at a couple of junctures but all the while my valiant crew was lighting that big bastard up like Yavin 4.
I eventually made it out into the parking lot of a shopping mall. Because, obviously, ISDs have their own commerce district. I warned the nearest police officer I could find that the Rebel Scum™ had boarded the ship and were on their way. He dutifully offered me his sidearm and went off to warn the populace. I turned and saw my fate before me as the tireless Chewbacca burst through the door and slowly approached. I continued backing off and loaded the pistol the cop had given me and raised it for my final showdown.
A shot rang out.
I looked up and Chewie seemed as dazed as I was but he fell. Through fire and water, from the lowest dungeon to the highest peak I fought the Wookiee of Kashyyyk, until at last I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin up on the... curb... side. Yeah, I killed him. I killed Chewbacca, with a gun. If I learned anything from the whole experience is that energy weapons are shit versus Wookiees. Ballistic weapons on the other hand, smoke their furry asses.
-Kroy has gone offline
That's why all the folks on Rocky Top get their corn from a jar
Friday, March 10, 2006
Turn the Page
Just a quick update on the audition front. The guys from the band want to have me back. It's unclear as to whether I'm "the guy" or if it's a second audition (i.e. a call back). Either way it definitely feels good to have gotten a call back. It's been a while since I actually had to go through an audition process, (since undergrad to be exact). As this is my first audition in a while I wouldn't have felt too bad about it had I not gotten a call but it's that much more pleasant to have been chosen on my first audition (especially with such short notice). I had a bass audition in Boston that I showed up to pretty well unprepared. I was a bit 'too big for my britches,' at the time and figured I could swagger in with only a few hours of practice and get the call, obviously that wasn't the case. I prepared much more completely this time and it seems that it paid off. It would start to feel futile if I put in a bunch of work and were still getting turned down.
If you had asked me one or two years ago if I'd be making a living solely in music, I'd have spit in your face, kicked you in the nuts, and then gone home and cried into my pillow. Now it seems that might have been an unnecessary reaction.
Just a quick update on the audition front. The guys from the band want to have me back. It's unclear as to whether I'm "the guy" or if it's a second audition (i.e. a call back). Either way it definitely feels good to have gotten a call back. It's been a while since I actually had to go through an audition process, (since undergrad to be exact). As this is my first audition in a while I wouldn't have felt too bad about it had I not gotten a call but it's that much more pleasant to have been chosen on my first audition (especially with such short notice). I had a bass audition in Boston that I showed up to pretty well unprepared. I was a bit 'too big for my britches,' at the time and figured I could swagger in with only a few hours of practice and get the call, obviously that wasn't the case. I prepared much more completely this time and it seems that it paid off. It would start to feel futile if I put in a bunch of work and were still getting turned down.
If you had asked me one or two years ago if I'd be making a living solely in music, I'd have spit in your face, kicked you in the nuts, and then gone home and cried into my pillow. Now it seems that might have been an unnecessary reaction.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
You may not see them otherwise
I took the liberty of uploading several of Rebecca's recent photos taken with her new lense. I think they are excellent. We plan on displaying several of them in the hizzy. Also, my flickr photos above were just kindof sitting there, I should take more photos.
This is my personal favorite:
I took the liberty of uploading several of Rebecca's recent photos taken with her new lense. I think they are excellent. We plan on displaying several of them in the hizzy. Also, my flickr photos above were just kindof sitting there, I should take more photos.
This is my personal favorite:
Navigation in the Digital Age
I'm not sure if it was inborn or came with years of playing video games and roleplaying but somewhere along the way I got really good with maps. For a long time I confused this with being a good sense of direction. Let me assure you, they are not the same thing. If I have a detailed and physical map of whatever journey I am about to undertake, I will arrive there without any problems or hitches. If I do not, I may never be seen again. When I lived in Boston (a notoriously signless city), if I had to drive somewhere I would always take the estimated travel time and double it. This was to give me ample to drive somewhere which was not the place I had intended to go, curse the fickle gods, get lost, have a transcendental experience, and thus, become closer to nature, and eventually accidentally find my way to wherever I was going and only be about 10 or 15 minutes late. As I would pull into my destination I would just sigh to myself and say, "this is just the way of all things."
I'm also ok if I'm provided with a deluge of information (which, arguably, you could say is all a map does). I'm generally ok when driving from one large area of the country to another via the interstate. If you need to get from Kansas City to Seattle, I'm your man. If you need to get downtown from the office, the trip with me is tantamount to clogging up the toilet at your new girlfriend's parent's house on your first meeting.
I think my handy usage of maps came from endless video game playing where (more often than not) you (the player) are supplied with some kind of miniature real time map that shows your position, orientation, and local geography. See the following:
As you can see (you may click for a larger view) there is a clear and set out relationship between where you are, where you're headed, and the best way to get there. I never get lost in video games, you can ask anybody. They'll fucking tell you, "Kroy? Hellz no he don't get lost in no video games." I mean I don't know what more evidence you need other than that.
Now I don't know if you've heard this or not but I'm going to let you in on a little secret. It's not cool to be a member of the male population who easily loses their way. It's very nearly the opposite of manly to not be able to navigate from one place to another. It's far worse to have to accept defeat and seek outside assistance in the finding of your destination. As you can imagine, this leaves me in a great pickle.
I think the utopian answer to my enigma is found in the warm bosom of personal and vehicular GPS. A friend relayed to me an experience he had with one such unit mounted in a rental car. The car could be told where you needed to 'git'. Apparently, it already knew where you were. Beyond that it is merely a process of riding the illuminated swells into port. This particular unit could measure, with staggering precision, your distance between your current location and your nearest change of course and would provide gentle reminders, like a responsible friend. With these GPS units there is also the added benefit of participating in a hobby known as Geocaching. A pastime dedicated to going places and finding things.
I envision a perfect world where, when I set out to a new and uncharted locale for some dark purpose, I simply reach down and engage my in-life minimap and run, ski, or drive on my way without the quiet murmuring of sacred prayers to ancient gods for safe passage.
-Kroy has gone offline
The People's Republic of chocolaty delicious
I'm not sure if it was inborn or came with years of playing video games and roleplaying but somewhere along the way I got really good with maps. For a long time I confused this with being a good sense of direction. Let me assure you, they are not the same thing. If I have a detailed and physical map of whatever journey I am about to undertake, I will arrive there without any problems or hitches. If I do not, I may never be seen again. When I lived in Boston (a notoriously signless city), if I had to drive somewhere I would always take the estimated travel time and double it. This was to give me ample to drive somewhere which was not the place I had intended to go, curse the fickle gods, get lost, have a transcendental experience, and thus, become closer to nature, and eventually accidentally find my way to wherever I was going and only be about 10 or 15 minutes late. As I would pull into my destination I would just sigh to myself and say, "this is just the way of all things."
I'm also ok if I'm provided with a deluge of information (which, arguably, you could say is all a map does). I'm generally ok when driving from one large area of the country to another via the interstate. If you need to get from Kansas City to Seattle, I'm your man. If you need to get downtown from the office, the trip with me is tantamount to clogging up the toilet at your new girlfriend's parent's house on your first meeting.
I think my handy usage of maps came from endless video game playing where (more often than not) you (the player) are supplied with some kind of miniature real time map that shows your position, orientation, and local geography. See the following:
As you can see (you may click for a larger view) there is a clear and set out relationship between where you are, where you're headed, and the best way to get there. I never get lost in video games, you can ask anybody. They'll fucking tell you, "Kroy? Hellz no he don't get lost in no video games." I mean I don't know what more evidence you need other than that.Now I don't know if you've heard this or not but I'm going to let you in on a little secret. It's not cool to be a member of the male population who easily loses their way. It's very nearly the opposite of manly to not be able to navigate from one place to another. It's far worse to have to accept defeat and seek outside assistance in the finding of your destination. As you can imagine, this leaves me in a great pickle.
I think the utopian answer to my enigma is found in the warm bosom of personal and vehicular GPS. A friend relayed to me an experience he had with one such unit mounted in a rental car. The car could be told where you needed to 'git'. Apparently, it already knew where you were. Beyond that it is merely a process of riding the illuminated swells into port. This particular unit could measure, with staggering precision, your distance between your current location and your nearest change of course and would provide gentle reminders, like a responsible friend. With these GPS units there is also the added benefit of participating in a hobby known as Geocaching. A pastime dedicated to going places and finding things.
I envision a perfect world where, when I set out to a new and uncharted locale for some dark purpose, I simply reach down and engage my in-life minimap and run, ski, or drive on my way without the quiet murmuring of sacred prayers to ancient gods for safe passage.
-Kroy has gone offline
The People's Republic of chocolaty delicious
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Rhymed with Collision
As mentioned previously (I would link it, but, what would be the point) I had something this weekend that I dared not talk about. Well it has come and gone and now I dare.
It actually wasn't too huge a deal. I just auditioned with a local cover band. They had a flyer up on the Git-fiddle Center bulletin boards so I ripped offa tab and gave 'em a call. The guy I talked to was cool and I pretty much explained my situation upfront to him. My playing isn't top notch but my gear is. Wait. Scratch that, reverse it. Yeah, so I says, "well my gear kinda stinks, I'm in the process of upgrading it but that won't happen before Sunday," I says. He seemed largely unconcerned and we bounced a few ideas of how we could overcome such rig shortcomings, were it necessary to do so. Anyway, they had me to play with them on Sunday. They gave me a few tunes to learn, one or two with decently mobile bass lines and the other more representative of the kind of music they are involved in.
The audition set list went as follows:
Shit, all that sounds awfully content and not-jaded. I'm breaking character!
Grumble, grumble, foul language, insults, warmongering, etc.
-Kroy has gone offline
you’ll never see me no more
As mentioned previously (I would link it, but, what would be the point) I had something this weekend that I dared not talk about. Well it has come and gone and now I dare.
It actually wasn't too huge a deal. I just auditioned with a local cover band. They had a flyer up on the Git-fiddle Center bulletin boards so I ripped offa tab and gave 'em a call. The guy I talked to was cool and I pretty much explained my situation upfront to him. My playing isn't top notch but my gear is. Wait. Scratch that, reverse it. Yeah, so I says, "well my gear kinda stinks, I'm in the process of upgrading it but that won't happen before Sunday," I says. He seemed largely unconcerned and we bounced a few ideas of how we could overcome such rig shortcomings, were it necessary to do so. Anyway, they had me to play with them on Sunday. They gave me a few tunes to learn, one or two with decently mobile bass lines and the other more representative of the kind of music they are involved in.
The audition set list went as follows:
- "Summer of '69" - Bryan Adams
- "Sold Me Down the River" - The Alarm
- "Hard to Handle" - The Black Crowes
- "Rock 'n Roll Fantasy" - Bad Company
- "Gimme Three Steps" - Lynyrd Skynrd
Shit, all that sounds awfully content and not-jaded. I'm breaking character!
Grumble, grumble, foul language, insults, warmongering, etc.
-Kroy has gone offline
you’ll never see me no more
Monday, March 06, 2006
Rat Bastard
I had intended on having a productive life. That was, until, my friend Jared showed me this. I'll understand if you never get any more work done ever.
I had intended on having a productive life. That was, until, my friend Jared showed me this. I'll understand if you never get any more work done ever.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Rhymes with "Collision"
Now I must go prepare for the weekend. I dare not say too much of it, save only that it involves me, four other men, and a lot of sweat. If you're in the camp of my well-wishers, then wish me well. If you're not, I hope your mom gets the herpes. I'll make some sort of report on it next week. Until then, I gotta go stretch out.
Now I must go prepare for the weekend. I dare not say too much of it, save only that it involves me, four other men, and a lot of sweat. If you're in the camp of my well-wishers, then wish me well. If you're not, I hope your mom gets the herpes. I'll make some sort of report on it next week. Until then, I gotta go stretch out.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
So Dark the Con of Man
For the last few years, as often as humanly possible, I have made a yearly pilgrimage to Atlanta, Georgia around Labor Day weekend. The reason, of course, is DragonCon. An event, I've best heard described as "Mardi Gras... for dorks". That pretty much sums it up in full.
For anyone who's not familiar with the idea, DragonCon is an ephedrine and vodka fueled weekend where anyone who's into... anything, and come be around other people into things they're into. See below.
Are you into role playing games? DragonCon has a room large enough park the USS South Carolina dedicated exclusivly to tournament style and more casual role playing. The room is filled wall to wall with tables so if you're in actual role playing games or miniatures, there's room for you in the Grand Hall. Looking at now, I can hardly think of a better name for a room that will play host to the innummerable tales of adventure over the long weekend - Grand Hall indeed, Heorot might be a better name, or perhaps Meduseld. Anyway there are scheduled games that are hosted and run by guys and gals who have the DragonCon stamp of approval. RPGA has a big presence there, if you're into that. Of course, there are plenty of tables which are just open to the public for throwing down old skool style. Also people play CCGs, stuff like Diceland, and virtually any other activity that requires a large flat and rigid surface.
There's also a LAN room. This room is less large and you could probably only park a few tractor trailers in it. Because of this, it gets a little cramped and there is usually a line of people waiting for "next" on the next PC that opens up. Even in the wee hours, this room smells of cooking silicon and unwashed nerds. I tend to shy away from it. Much as I like computer games, I can do that at home. At any rate, all weekend long they're running versions of Battlefield 2, Quake, Warcraft 3 and anything else that can accomdate 20 to 30 PC players at a time.
The real reason to go to DragonCon, -in fact the reason that every person should go to DragonCon at least once in their life, even if everything I've said up to this point has been complete jibberish- is just the sheer spectacle of it. As you can see not everything is sci-fi or fantasy related, granted most of it is, but there are plenty of cinema TV and generally humor offerings. They say a picture is worth a thousand words so hang on while I drop about one-hundred grand worth on you. (I'll try to keep these safe for work but no promises.)
Costumes range from really quite good to über-lame. Seriously, is that guy even trying? There are Jones's and Stormtroopers galore, often with a few clever twists on old themes. There are lots of video game and movie costumes; comics book characters and anime costumes tend to be the most popular though.
As is probably already apparent, many con-goers (usually of the female variety) use the long weekend as a perfectly good excuse to go about half-naked. No seriously, a lot of them do. That's... that's the part that's probably not work safe. So, uh, don't get canned or anything on my account. The girls' costumes range from damned accurate to less specific and generally themed to not-so-much-a-costume-as-some lingerie and electrical tape.
As such, the way at DragonCon is fraught with peril. You must always be alert as you walk around at these events, lest you end up like this guy. Poor bastard. Being a lech is one thing, having it immortalized on the internet for all time is quite another.
Anyway, I'm already looking forward to the trip this year. God willin' and the creek don't rise, we'll be there with bells on - Rebecca, possibly in less. We are already starting to make plans to get people there, this will be my third year to go to these hallowed grounds. Rebecca and others that we may be dragging along will be popping their DragonCon cherries. I remember my first time. Mmmm-mmmm.
So far costume ideas for me are George Lucas and Gordon "The Free Man" Freeman. We'll see how that goes. Updates as they come.
-Kroy has gone offline
The Father Hen will call his chickens home
For the last few years, as often as humanly possible, I have made a yearly pilgrimage to Atlanta, Georgia around Labor Day weekend. The reason, of course, is DragonCon. An event, I've best heard described as "Mardi Gras... for dorks". That pretty much sums it up in full.
For anyone who's not familiar with the idea, DragonCon is an ephedrine and vodka fueled weekend where anyone who's into... anything, and come be around other people into things they're into. See below.
Are you into role playing games? DragonCon has a room large enough park the USS South Carolina dedicated exclusivly to tournament style and more casual role playing. The room is filled wall to wall with tables so if you're in actual role playing games or miniatures, there's room for you in the Grand Hall. Looking at now, I can hardly think of a better name for a room that will play host to the innummerable tales of adventure over the long weekend - Grand Hall indeed, Heorot might be a better name, or perhaps Meduseld. Anyway there are scheduled games that are hosted and run by guys and gals who have the DragonCon stamp of approval. RPGA has a big presence there, if you're into that. Of course, there are plenty of tables which are just open to the public for throwing down old skool style. Also people play CCGs, stuff like Diceland, and virtually any other activity that requires a large flat and rigid surface.
There's also a LAN room. This room is less large and you could probably only park a few tractor trailers in it. Because of this, it gets a little cramped and there is usually a line of people waiting for "next" on the next PC that opens up. Even in the wee hours, this room smells of cooking silicon and unwashed nerds. I tend to shy away from it. Much as I like computer games, I can do that at home. At any rate, all weekend long they're running versions of Battlefield 2, Quake, Warcraft 3 and anything else that can accomdate 20 to 30 PC players at a time.
The real reason to go to DragonCon, -in fact the reason that every person should go to DragonCon at least once in their life, even if everything I've said up to this point has been complete jibberish- is just the sheer spectacle of it. As you can see not everything is sci-fi or fantasy related, granted most of it is, but there are plenty of cinema TV and generally humor offerings. They say a picture is worth a thousand words so hang on while I drop about one-hundred grand worth on you. (I'll try to keep these safe for work but no promises.)
Costumes range from really quite good to über-lame. Seriously, is that guy even trying? There are Jones's and Stormtroopers galore, often with a few clever twists on old themes. There are lots of video game and movie costumes; comics book characters and anime costumes tend to be the most popular though.
As is probably already apparent, many con-goers (usually of the female variety) use the long weekend as a perfectly good excuse to go about half-naked. No seriously, a lot of them do. That's... that's the part that's probably not work safe. So, uh, don't get canned or anything on my account. The girls' costumes range from damned accurate to less specific and generally themed to not-so-much-a-costume-as-some lingerie and electrical tape.
As such, the way at DragonCon is fraught with peril. You must always be alert as you walk around at these events, lest you end up like this guy. Poor bastard. Being a lech is one thing, having it immortalized on the internet for all time is quite another.
Anyway, I'm already looking forward to the trip this year. God willin' and the creek don't rise, we'll be there with bells on - Rebecca, possibly in less. We are already starting to make plans to get people there, this will be my third year to go to these hallowed grounds. Rebecca and others that we may be dragging along will be popping their DragonCon cherries. I remember my first time. Mmmm-mmmm.
So far costume ideas for me are George Lucas and Gordon "The Free Man" Freeman. We'll see how that goes. Updates as they come.
-Kroy has gone offline
The Father Hen will call his chickens home
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