Arrrrr! Shiver me timbers! Me tiny pirate hat be held on by elastic and staples, and if any of ye scurvy dawgs be laughin’ at it, ye better be ready to talk wit’ Davey Jones, ye bleedin’ cockroachers!
Yarrrrrr!
Category: WWdN in Exile
conversations with junkmail
Junkmail: I was looking for a method to improve my size.
Me: What?
Junkmail: By size, I mean overall length and width of my penis.
Me: Oh, well thanks for clearing that up. Good luck with that.
(Junkmail text from actual spam. Unfortunately, no actual spammers were harmed in the creation of this post.)
it’s so fun to relate
When I finished up my work yesterday, I walked out into the living room to see how Nolan was doing. He was playing Warcraft (non-MMO version.)
"Hey," I said, "how was your day?"
"It was good," he said. He drove his little hero dude across the map, and rained furious death down upon some other player. The game announced that Nolan was GODLIKE.
"Nice 1" the vanquished foe said in the game’s chat, in a shocking display of good sportsmanship.
"Dude, you owned that guy," I said.
Nolan looked up at me and smiled. "Yeah, I’m doing well this match."
I watched him for a minute, not because I care all that much about the game, but because I’d been working since he got home from school, and I’d hardly seen him at all.
"Hey," he said, "the weirdest thing happened to me today!"
"Oh?" I said, "What’s that?"
"This girl came up to me and started talking to me about D&D, because of my shirt."
He was wearing the +20 Shirt of Smiting T-shirt I gave him last year.
"And she was all, ‘I used to play a dwarf, but now I play an elf, and I won’t play half orcs because they’re seriously ugly.’"
"Dude." I said.
"Yeah!" He said, "and she was hot!"
"Well," I said, "if you need a refresher course in D&D, you know where to find me."
"Thanks," he said.
broke the bonds and loosed the chains
If more Americans read books every night instead of watching TV, we’d live in a more productive society. If more Americans watched the news and read real newspapers and magazines, instead of crappy programs like American Idol, then I’m confident that George Bush would not be our president. But heck, that’s what our leaders really want deep down… a mindless, uneducated populous that will work 40 hours a week so they can earn enough money to buy things to keep them distracted from the evil deeds that our leaders and suits in Fortune 500 companies are conducting everyday under your noses.
Amen. It’s interesting to think of turning off the television and being less of a consumer as an act of rebellion, but I think Pauly has a valid point, at the very least worthy of consideration if not action. I know how happy and free I feel after cleaning a bunch of needless stuff out my house (and life) recently, and since I’m not completely overwhelmed by stuff that is ultimately not that important, I feel like I can address various mental and spiritual aspects of my life that need attention, now that I’m not constantly battling with a huge pile of material bullshit on a daily basis.
I’ve been making an effort to turn off the TV, walk away from the Internets, turn on the radio, and read lots of books. It’s nothing heady — I just finished Monster Island, and I’m in the first third of Cell — but I agree with Pauly. Reading activates and nourishes a different part of my brain than watching TV, even if it’s not Hemmingway or Feynman or something weighty. It also makes me want to write more, which is something I sorely need.
I’ve also made an effort over the last few weeks to unplug, and get out of the house every day, even if it’s just out into my yard, or my patio garden. Anne and I have been getting out of the house and walking like crazy, in preparation for the marathon this weekend (you can still sponsor our team here), and though we’re down to the “easy” six mile walks this week (we’re just tuning up to walk a half marathon, instead of running a full one, remember), it’s still great to get out of the house and breathe deeply for a couple of hours every morning. All the flowers in our neighborhood are in bloom, too, so it’s almost like walking through the best flower shop in the world, but it’s also filled with birds and those really friendly people who get up early to walk during the week.
My soul still needs nourishment, and my life is still out of Balance, but I’m getting closer to finding it. I think all this physical pain in my hip and up my back and on my shoulders is a physical manifestation of my current disarray, and I’m glad my body finally forced me into tuning up my diet and getting more exercise, both physical and psychic.
i meant every word i said
Dinner is finished, and Anne is helping Nolan with some homework at the dining room table. I’m sitting outside by the fire pit, enjoying the fruits of our weekend of patio labor. I am surrounded by freshly-planted wildflowers, two types of tomatoes, and the sweet smell of lavender, roses, and just-turned dirt.
I was listening to Big Tracks on XM, through DirecTV, on our home stereo. I sang REO Speedwagon’s Keep On Lovin’ You a little too loudly while I sipped a Stone Pale Ale and digested the most amazing chicken soft tacos (marinated in tequila, lime, salsa and Tapatio) I think I’ve ever cooked, when Ryan came out to the patio from the kitchen.
“Can I turn off XM and put on Live Aid?” He said.
“No, you can’t,” I said, a little perturbed that my REO Speedwagon rocking had been interrupted.
“But you’ve been monopolizing the TV, and you’re not even inside,” he said. Very reasonable.
“ . . . I meant that I loved you foreverrrrr, and I’m gonna ke–“ I sang. “Dude. I’m trying to get my rock on, and you’re totally harshing my mellow.”
“You’re trying to get your rock on . . . to REO Speedwagon?” He said, incredulous. Tough to argue with that. “You’re the only one listening to this, so isn’t it fair to consider the rest of the family?”
Dammit. I raised him to think like this. I’m so proud of him, but . . . Big Tracks, and Stone Pale Ale, and sitting by the fire pit! Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Did you ask your mom what she thinks?” I said.
“She’s going to say that she doesn’t care, because she’s helping Nolan with his homework.” He said.
REO Speedwagon ended, and Asia began: “I never meant to be so bad to you . . .”
“Okay,” I said, “let’s go inside and ask your mom what she thinks.”
We walked into the house, and found Anne and Nolan at the dining room table. Ryan related our discussion, and asked Anne if she cared if he changed the channel.
“I don’t care,” she said.
Ryan jumped up and pointed at me. “Ha! I told you!”
“I don’t care about the radio, either,” Nolan said, with a pointed smirk at me.
“Yes! I get to put on Live Aid!” Ryan said. He started toward the living room.
“Uh, wait.” I said, “we haven’t reached consensus.”
“Oh, we totally have, Wil,” he said with a grin, “you’re 25% in favor, and mom, Nolan, and I are
75% opposed. We have a majority.”
I was done. I’d lost, and now it was time to take it like a man.
“Dude, I have, uhm, extra . . . uh . . . powers.” I said.
“What?” Ryan said.
“Yeah, I went up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, start,” I said.
“Okay,” Ryan said, “so you get extra lives on Contra. What does that have to do with the radio?”
I don’t know how he knew that it was the Konami code, but I’m sure he picked it up from me, somewhere over the years.
“Okay,” I said, “just because you knew that, you win. Go put on Live Aid.”
Queen is blasting out We Will Rock You, from Wembley Stadium in 1985, as I type this.