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Why April first is my favorite day of the year.

May 10th, 2011 by LT Ronald

Every year I try to do at least one April Fool’s Day joke on at least someone. Some years I may do 2-3 jokes. Whether I’ve contracted the clap from the Bearded Lady at the traveling circus to pregnancy scares, to cutting off appendages with a power saw, miter saw, snapping turtle, sharp edge of a toilet seat, to wrecking cars, bikes, or Barbi power wheels, I always catch someone unawares, and enjoy a laugh or two at how I got them!

This past April first did not start out very good for me at all. When I tried to do the whole “you’re gonna be a grandma again!” thing on my mom it backfired. I figured that since I’m only engaged and not married and that since a big chunk of my pay is going to my ex-wife for my other two kids that my mom wouldn’t be to thrilled with me  being a dad at this time. Turns out that she was ecstatic. Now my joke was just plain mean. Not what I had in mind.

So I figured I’d try and save the day from being a total waste by coming up with something big, something that would involve multiple people and really come out of left field. I decided to go after the proprietor of my favorite watering hole.
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D This, D That.

May 9th, 2011 by Ihmhi

I’ve played Dungeons & Dragons (3.5) for a few years now. I’ve heard some great stories about happenings in Pencil & Paper RPGs (whatever version they may have occured in) from friends, strangers, and Skippy himself.

Regrettably, I only get to play about once a week. Granted, we have a 12 hour “play and hangout” session, but that’s because everyone’s work schedules (or, in my case, lack of a work schedule) all happen to link up nicely on Tuesday evening. That will probably not last forever, and then I’ll get even less D&D.

I’m going to try to keep this post as friendly and informative to people who have never been graced with the righteous feel of their very first d20 in their hands. (If you don’t know what “d20” means, don’t worry – I’ll get to it.)

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The Unnameable Horror of Sex Ed

May 9th, 2011 by skippy

Mildly NSFW.
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Ding Dong

May 2nd, 2011 by skippy

So no doubt by now everybody has heard the news. If not, please stop reading to go and visit pretty much any news source in the Western Hemisphere.

Osama Bin Laden is dead.

He died on May 1st, of an acute attack of SEAL Team Six to the face. He was given a burial at sea to prevent a grave site being used as a shrine for terrorists, and because his home country didn’t want the body back. And possibly because somebody wanted to make a “sleep with the fishes” joke.

Some people can try and twist these events to fit a political agenda. They might come up with arguments based on how our country proceeded with this particular subject or how all of the details were handled. They might try to turn this into a religious discussion.

I just want to say for the next few days at least, let it go. For right now just take it as this. A bad person did bad things to our country. And he paid for it.

Thank you to all the brave men and women who gave up all the wonderful things our society takes for granted, sacrificing years and sometimes their lives, limbs, and mental well being to bring us to this moment. They’ve given up so much for us, please don’t try to take anything else away by trying to make it into anything else.

Tomorrow we can go back to fighting tooth and nail over every detail of our lives.

Behold!

April 29th, 2011 by skippy

It’s official. I am going to be a published board and card game designer in the near future. More details to follow, but for now feast your eyes upon:

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Who’s your Papa… Smurf?

April 27th, 2011 by LT Ronald

So, while I was out of town for the weekend, my fiance decides to go on a little shopping spree. Going out of town sucks! She does go to Victoria Secret. Going out of town rocks! She buys new $20 sweatpants at Victoria Secret. Going out of town sucks!! The sweat pants are blue. She buys a white skirt (important later).

I come home, we go out to dinner. She goes to the ladies room. She comes out with a blue hand. She doesn’t know why. Later at dinner she decides to show me her new tan, by lifting up the leg of her sweatpants. Her leg is blue. I laugh… She laughs… I say “check please”. She looks confused.

Get her home. Tell her to put on new white skirt. She continues to look confused. (She is a long haired blond). Tell her to call me Papa Smurf. She laughs, and does so! It is on! Half-way done, novelty wearing off. Blue butt is cool in theory. Brilliance hits. Tell her to call me Gargamel. All the way done.

Am I sick?

Another Day at Online School

April 20th, 2011 by skippy

Skippy – Answers question posed by teacher, about the power of shading vs line drawing, from the assumption that the phrase “Bring an illustration to life” means “Make it much better”.

Other Student – Corrects Skippy, as his answer is about making the illustration better and the question clearly uses the phrase “Bring the illustration to life”. Student claims that they are being literal in the questions interpretation.

Skippy – Points out that he has never seen a drawing literally brought to life and has always assumed that his experience is near universal in this regard. Admits that his experience may be limited, and wants to know where Other Student has been purchasing these necromantic markers and/or colored pencils.

Other Student – Asserts that they were just trying to play devil’s advocate on the shading vs. line drawing controversy and that Skippy is an asshole.

Skippy – Questions Other Students ability to correctly determine which participant in this discussion is the asshole, seeing as the definition of “literal” has thus far eluded him. Asks: is Other Student is related to Simon, Harold, or Pygmalion.

Instructor – Confirms that Other Student is correct, and that Skippy is in fact the asshole.

The Wussification of Our Cartoons and Our County

April 19th, 2011 by Ihmhi

What happened to our cartoons?

A disclaimer: this is not a “sit down with a snack” sort of post. It’s very heavy on the videos. This is a “pour a glass of scotch and light a cigar” sort of post.

I was born in 1986. I missed out on some stuff like G.I. Joe, but I sure as hell didn’t miss out on Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I had the toys. I had the toys that were really, really, really ridiculous – the ones based on an appearance in a limited edition comic book that only came out in cereal boxes three states over. I didn’t, however, have the Turtle Mobile or any of the cool vehicles, so clearly my parents didn’t love me.

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True Bipartisan Effort

April 13th, 2011 by skippy

It’s amazing what the legislature can accomplish when they set petty bickering aside and really tr to work together.

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My cousin Jimmy!

April 12th, 2011 by LT Ronald

While I have to apologize for my overlong absence in posting, I also have to say that my absence is due to a disconcernment towards an attempt at publishing my short stories. Most publishers want more military and less frat-ire, while others want more frat-ire and less military. Why can’t I do both at once? Here’s more of a small mix of both.

A few months ago I had the privilege of attending my little cousin’s wedding. My little cousin had just made it back from the 56th Stryker Brigade’s first combat deployment since being designated the Army’s newest Stryker Brigade. The affair was also a privilege because I had missed 5 family weddings since my nearest relative got married due to deployments. I look at family as an ever growing reflection of myself. Where I came from, who I am, and who I may or may not become.

The wedding was classy, my cousin, who is a good guy and a stout soldier, definitely went above himself in finding his partner, a lovely lass named Alexis. Their nuptials and subsequent reception were an excellent affair.

The after party was where this story truly unfolds. It is all about my cousin Jimmy (not the groom). Now, let me fill you in on my cousin Jimmy. His own father testifies that if there is such thing as reincarnation that he wants to come back as Jimmy. I say this not as a hero worship to Jimmy. No, on the other hand Jimmy’s story is kind of a sad one.

Jimmy is a good looking guy, and a sweet guy. NO ONE dislikes Jimmy. My whore ex-wife actually came on to Jimmy during more than one of the 5 family weddings that I was overseas for. Jimmy lives in his Dad’s half-mil $ house in mid-Virginia with a few of his buddies, due to his parents having to move away for business a few years ago, and not wanting to sell or get rid of their house. Jimmy manages a local Papa John’s and goes to college for engineering. When he is not doing those things he is out on his parents’ ski-boat on their private lake.

Now for a a good looking, semi-independent, intellectual guy you would think that my cousin Jimmy would be rolling in the Pu-nahn-nea. Unfortunately, or maybe God’s way of cosmic justice, Jimmy was not blessed with the gift of game.  He is one of the shyest guys I know. He is so shy that I have actually witnessed good looking women blow him off when he had nothing to say to their flirtations but “right”. I guess somewhere along the line that someone told him that simply agreeing with women would help him score chicks. Oh wait, that was me who told him that, but never-the-less that was the only lesson in game that he had ever learned and it was not enough.

At the age of 25 my cousin Jimmy had experienced maybe two “hook-ups” in his life. This is where this story finds him. My fiance, my younger brother, Tim, Jimmy, and I were invited to an after-party at my younger cousin Kayla’s house. Now Kayla’s parents were the ones who allowed me to throw wild teenage parties at their house when I was a youngster. Oh, the stories I could tell about this place could fill one of those Penthouse novels that you find tucked away between the Anime and Tucker Max books at your local Boarders Books.

Now my “day” was over 16 years ago, and my cousin Jimmy was only 9 back then, and Kayla was only 2, but not much had changed. If anything things had grown, since there was a stable of 20 beautiful young whores women ranging from 17-23. Jimmy stood there with a big goofy smile on his face, but wouldn’t talk to any. Tim went on to the first fat one he could find, figuring he could only go up from there, and at worst he’d still get laid. (My brother does have some game, praise the Lord). Jimmy says to me, “Ronnie, you told me stories about your younger days, but I never dreamed that they were like this.” Not having a lot of time to cram much game, and not needing much. I told him to pick out two or three that he liked, and to go into a spare bedroom and get naked.

If you have never seen a certain hit TV show there is a playbook play called “The Naked Guy”. It is guaranteed to work two out of three times. My fiance and I have both found this to be true over the years. For those of you in a relationship, try it. When you and the sig other are having an argument while away form each other, if you get home first, get naked. When sig other gets there they will 2/3 times laugh, have great hate sex and forget the original fight. For those of you who are single, after a date that goes … who the hell cares how it goes, and you can tell that any future relationship won’t last very long, or you don’t want it to, find an excuse to go into their place or have them come into your place, beg off to the bathroom, or to go grab that bistro’s phone number, or that massage therapists business card, and come out naked. Chances are they will laugh, say “what the hell”, and go for it, or they will leave, and you will have an awkward conversation with your friend who hooked you up in the first place, totally worth it for a 2/3 chance.

So he heads off to the room, I call over one of the girls on his list, she has braces, so cute. I tell her that the tall good looking guy who came in with me is a famous porn star, and that he has picked out her, and (points out the other two girls he chose) to do a practice run with him for a high budget soft-core film. I tell her that he is in the other room naked and that she should grab her friends (as long as they are 18+) and go in. She does, they do.

They come out 20 minutes later. I ask him how it went. He freaks out on me, hyperventilating: “You said pick out two or three! I figured you’d send in one of them, not all three!! I’m not you!!! I can’t handle that kind of pressure!!!! THATS THREE CHICKS AT THE SAME TIME!!!!! I just talked to them in my boxer shorts. They are now my friends on facebook. I think I’ll try talking to them tonight.”

I smacked him right in the face and went home to bed. He didn’t score with any of the chicks that night. I don’t even think he’s still friends with them on facebook. If one has a two out of three chance to score and I send you 3 chicks that is a 100% chance of scoring. I can’t paint a better picture of fucking up a wet dream, can I?

On a happier note my brother Tim, did trade up two sizes smaller by the end of the night.

I still love my cousin Jimmy, but I agree with his dad. If there is such a thing as reincarnation, I want to come back as him, only with game.