Too Much Of A Good Thing?

Even when I win, I lose.

Apparently, HoBiscuit’s sister was so happy with our visit to her humble abode that she spread the word to MotherBiscuit, who in turn has extended an invitation for HoBiscuit and me to visit her new home in Phoenix, Arizona. And by ‘extended an invitation’ I mean insisted that we fly out there ASAP and visit or there will be hell to pay in the form of guilt, guilt and more guilt. And HoBiscuit, bless her heart, just can’t handle Momma-guilt like I can.

Makes her break out in hives, you understand.

So, long story short, I’m getting on a plane tomorrow morning at 6am to go for another in-law visit. Bad news is that HoBiscuit and I are already being yelled at for spending too much money on little things like plane tickets and car rentals. Most likely, this spendthrift chastisement won’t end once they realize that we’re planning on driving them to Las Vegas for a night where we’ll stay at THE hotel at Mandalay Bay, see ‘O’ which is a Cirque Du Soleil show and then gamble, GAMBLE, GAMBLE!

Good news is they think I’m a wonderful son-in-law.

Now, I love to gamble. Not stupidly, though. I hate it when people don’t have limits and do stupid things like go to the cash machine after losing a month’s paycheck at the roulette table. Any way you slice it, people who do that need an intervention. You see, what I do is go to the table with a set limit and if I lose it then I consider that money to have been spent on ‘entertainment’ and that’s it. I never go back to the ATM for more money because if I did I’d lose my place at the table. That would be dumb.

Instead, I give my card to HoBiscuit and make her go.

Anywaste, I know you’re all thrilled sad that I’ll be gone for yet another week, but cheer up. I’ll be back on Tuesday the 7th of December with what I can only assume will be fun stories for you to read about my hellish travels to the city of sin with my church-going, god-fearing, bible-study-grouping in-laws who, with their constant barrage of guilt-laden jibs, unhappy frowns at the money we’re spending on them and their forlorn looks of parental disapproval, will no doubt cause HoBiscuit to turn into a neurotic psychopath who will in turn make my life a living hell.

Ah, good times. Good times.

Thankful? For This?!

I need a vacation.

My Thanksgiving holiday was absolutely fabulous… except for the whole driving 660 miles to Ann Arbor in the rain on the very day that everyone else in the whole world was going there! Don’t get me wrong, spending time with my brother- and sister-in-law and their three kids is a whole lot of fun, especially because the two boys seem to really enjoy it when I beat the crap out of them, but the whole driving thing? Well, let’s just say I wish I owned a real Halo Warthog, complete with machinegun turret, for the drive.

Or maybe the Scorpion Tank…

Anywaste, after 11.5 hours of driving, we finally made it to their lovely abode where HoBiscuit finally woke up enough to get out of the car to go to bed and I got to relieve my bladder. The next day was spent indoors as the entire family helped prepare the Thanksgiving dinner, in-between challenging each other to Halo Deathmatches. Immediately after dinner my brother-in-law, henceforth to be known as PrairieDog, sequestered me to the back room of the house so we could “formulate a plan of attack” for Operation Black Friday.

Seriously. He has camouflage face paint and everything.

After searching online for specials and flipping through all the newspaper ads for the best deals, we had our target. Beast Bye, the blue and yellow mega-superstore. We knew our target would open its doors at 6am and so, with the knowledge and foresight of a seasoned Black Friday veteran, PrairieDog laid out our gear, set the alarm clocks for 0500, and ordered me to bed.

Not his, thankfully.

I thought he had been kidding when he said that other people were even more fanatical about this shopping day than he was. I might have even laughed as he instructed me on how to properly wear my elbow and kneepads to safely deflect old ladies and small children away from the display containing the last spindle of 100 DVD-R’s for $20. I mean seriously, this wasn’t a football game. No one was tailgating in the parking lot, offering up chilidogs and hot cocoa for all the rabid BF fans. I remember laughing to myself, right before I fell asleep, as I wondered how anyone in their right mind could ever justify waiting for hours and hours on line, outside in the frigid Ann Arbor morning air, just to get inside a store and buy something for a couple of bucks cheaper than it normally sold for.

Well, let me tell you that at 6:00am I was no longer laughing.

When we arrived at Beast Bye at 5:55am the line was already all the way down block and around the corner. As we walked to the back of the line we counted the people and I believe that at last count we concluded that every living soul in Michigan, Ohio, Indiana and possibly Pennsylvania was there. Ahead of us. As we waited to enter the store, employees in blue shirts would intermittently walk the line to inform us of all the wonderful items they had for sale that were no longer available because the greedy bums ahead of us had already bought them all. Each time this happened more and more people would leave the line with their cell phones to their ears, shouting instructions to other family members waiting in line at other stores, and dash to their cars to go wait in another line for another store for yet another sale.

It would’ve been funny if I weren’t freezing my butt off.

When we finally got into the store I was in for a shock. The aisles were all blocked by displays! You could only move through the store by following everyone else down one aisle and up the next. No free range of movement, no browsing the aisles for what you wanted and then quickly getting on the checkout line, no actual shopping. Instead, we had to shuffle down each aisle with the rest of humanity and hope and pray that there would still be something left for us when we reached the displays that carried what we wanted. News travels fast in an environment like that and at 7:15am, when the word came down the line that there were only 18 of the $189 17” LCD monitors left, we knew we were in trouble. Caught up in the moment, I did what I had sworn only moments earlier that I would never do, and called my mother back home in NY.

“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Are you at Staples’ big sale?”
“You know I am. Why, you need something?”
“Yeah. Do they have anymore of those $199 17” LCD’s left?”
“I think so.”
“Great. Uh… do you think you can get me one…”
[frantic waving and puppy dog eyes from PrairieDog]
“Ehrm… make that two?”
“Hold on, let me ask this nice salesboy…”
“…”
“He says that I already have two so he can’t give me four. But, my friend is here with me and she’s only buying one so she could get another one for you. But we can’t get two.”
“That’s alright Mom, just get me the one. Maybe we’ll get lucky here and get one of the last screens for PrairieDog.”
“OK. Bye.”
“Bye.”
[Beast Bye Blue Shirt hands the last LCD to girl directly in front of PrairieDog]
“That’s the last LCD people! If you wanted one, I’m sorry to tell you that we’re all out!”
[PrairieDog glares at girl and contemplates grand theft and/or murder]
“Easy PrairieDog! No need to kill her yourself, I think the other 5,000 people behind us will do it for you.”
“Girl, you better hope I don’t see you in the parking lot! You’re lucky he’s holding me back! That’s my screen, mine! I’ll swallow your soul, you little witch! Glargh!
“Best. Thanksgiving. Ever.” /sarcasm

We didn’t get out of that madhouse until 9:30am and all we had to show for our 3.5 hours of hell were two DVDs, one CD, a spindle of DVD-R’s and a memory stick. We saved $40. Whoopie. Good thing we brought PrairieDog’s big truck or we might never have been able to carry all of our loot home. Once we did get home though, everyone piled into the car and we went to another mall to do more shopping. By the time we left for home at 9pm I was ready to run amok with a chainsaw if I had to walk into another store selling last years fashions or outdated electronics at 40%-60% off ‘regular’ store prices. But with all my whining and complaining about the crowds, falsely reduced prices and fake sales, I somehow still managed to buy a few things for myself. And for those who care, yes I did buy myself some new boxer-brief underwear.

And yeah, the boys are happy.
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Ann Arbor Is The Place To Be

That is, if you’re The Mighty Geek.

I’m going to visit my in-laws for the Thanksgiving holiday weekend and we all know that can mean only one thing. No, not eating so much turkey, stuffing and cranberry sauce that my bellybutton goes from an ‘innie’ to an ‘outtie’. Nor does it mean that I’ll get to sit in front of the TV all day watching football and screaming at the kids to shut up or I’ll beat them with the buckle side of my belt until their bottoms are so raw they won’t be able to sit down until their kids graduate college…

Stupid, repressed, childhood memories…

Anywaste, what Thanksgiving means to me, and to most other Americans, is Christmas. That’s right, Christmas. It’s not until Thanksgiving that most Americans begin thinking of all the money they’re going to have to spend on presents for friends and family members, most of whom they don’t even really like. And once we start thinking of all that money being sucked out of our bank accounts, we panic. We panic because we’ve been conditioned to show our love and affection for children by bestowing upon them gifts. Not just any gifts either, we’re talking bigger, better, cooler and more enviable gifts than the bratty kids down the block who always seem to get the best toys and then rub it in all the other kids’ faces at school.

And we hateses those kiddies, don’t we Gollum?

So, I’ll be spending this Turkey Day with my new family in Ann Arbor, playing with the kids, eating “home cooked” meals that are actually prepared in a home and not just regular restaurant food that’s called home cooked as a marketing strategy. Then, on Friday, a day that I learned only last night is known as ‘BLACK FRIDAY’, I shall be dragged from my inflatable bed in the guest hallway of my in-law’s home at 4:30am to go shopping. Having never done this before in my life, you cannot possibly imagine my excitement in anticipation of hour upon grueling hour of madhouse shopping in the crowded malls of the suburbs of America. Oh, and hey, if I’m not here on Monday, it’s not because I don’t love you guys.

It’s because I’m in jail for mass murder.

Happy Thanksgiving!

She’s Got My Vote

Overheard conversation outside of a neighborhood school.

Little Girl:
“… Mommy, I said I was sorry.”

Mommy:
“I know you’re sorry honey, but sometimes being sorry just isn’t good enough.”

Little Girl [on verge of crying]:
“But I didn’t mean to get a ‘C’ on my spelling test! I studied and everything!”

Mommy:
“I guess you just didn’t study hard enough, did you?”

Little Girl [rubbing furiously at her eyes]:
“…”

Mommy:
“Oh honey, I know you didn’t mean to get a bad grade on this test and I’m not mad at you. I’m just a little disappointed.”

Little Girl:
“Why?”

Mommy:
“Because if you don’t do well in school now then you won’t get smart and you might not be able to do whatever you want to do when you grow up.”

Little Girl:
“Well, I could always be Pres’dent.”

Mommy:
“And how will you be President if you don’t do well in school?”

Little Girl:
“Well, you and daddy always say that the Pres’dent is dumber than a five year old, and I’m eight!!”

I walked away laughing so hard that I actually choked on my own spit.

CSI = Can’t See It

It was like a kick in the nads.

It was almost as if we were in the room with Grissom and Brass as they finally confronted the woman who was once a man and whom they thought was responsible for the deaths of several men who wished to be women. They were ‘grilling’ her, trying to get her to admit what she had done, but she was playing the self-righteous helper of the helpless card to the hilt and HoBiscuit and I were on the edge of our seats waiting for her to fall. Then, just as Brass was about to oh-so-nonchalantly lean on the table and dispense justice in the form of a witty remark that would make the evildoer break down and cry…

The TV goes dark.

WHAT?! Our cries of despair were loud enough to cause the lights in the ceiling to rattle. I immediately attempted to switch channels, for my feeble man-mind somehow believed that merely flipping to a different channel would fix whatever ailed the little demons inside the TV that were in charge of reception for CBS. But, what’s this?! There’s nothing on NBC either? Frantic now, I start flipping channels like I was a 10 year veteran chef at IHOP;

2 CBS – Darkness
3 TNT – Picture!
4 NBC – A chasm of dark doom
5 Fox – Black as my heart
6 Nick – Spongebob in all his glory
7 ABC – A black hole sucking the life from my body
8 TBS – Tha’hr be reception, Matey
9 UPN – The antithesis of content
10 CNN – News galore!
11 WB – There may have been something there, but really, who cares?

I was in shock. All of our local channels were gone. Poof, just like that. The only thing that made sense to me was that Osama bin Laden and his Al-Qaeda cronies had managed to take over the broadcast satellite and, by reversing the polarity of the onboard flux capacitor’s, had set into action their plan of world domination through television disruption in the household of The Mighty Geek. Now I’m in tears, as I desperately search the internet in the vain hope of finding out what happened in the final 10 minutes of CSI. All while Osama sits in his cave, safe and sound and laughing maniacally at my helplessness as the giant, unseen wheels of his evil plan to take over the world begin turning.

Dammit, what the FRICK happened on CSI?!

The Mighty Kitchen

I’m so happy I could cry.

Our kitchen was finished last week and now that we have unpacked our plates, dishes, pots and pans we actually feel at home here. You know, like we can live in this apartment or something. Well, truthfully we feel like we can cook in the apartment, because it’s very hard to feel at home when you have no actual closets in which to put your clothing and so are forced to live out of suitcases until a closet-person can come and build you some closets.

But, hey! I can cook!

Anyway, as I promised, here are some pictures of the new kitchen which you can look at and become jealous of because we all know that my kitchen can kick your kitchen’s butt. Seriously, if you showed these pictures to your kitchen it would either faint from fear or become enamored of its huge muscular metal peninsula pole, smooth glass tile backsplash and shiny brushed metal and black marble facade.

Now, where did I put those pictures..?

I could have sworn I left them right here next to my Hello Kitty soap dish…

Dammit. They’ve got to be around here somewhere…

Hmmm…

No, they’re not in my back pocket, let’s try the front…

Heh, that tickles…

Ahem, they’re not in my front pockets either. Oh wait, I remember now. I already uploaded them! Silly me, I’d lose my head if it weren’t glued to my shoulders. Oh well, guess I’ll just go back to searching my pockets for… stuff…

He-he-he. That tickles…
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Hello World

Life is good. And bad.

My kitchen is finally finished; I’ll have some pictures for you later this week but for now, let’s just say that HoBiscuit and I are sacrificing small animals to the remodeling gods in thanks for finally getting those lousy contractors out of our apartment. If you’re confused as to why we would be elbow deep in squirrel guts and chicken eyeballs but still be whistling a happy tune, then you should read this past post of mine and edjumacate ya’self.

And then there’s Halo 2…

Yes, my copy finally arrived and I couldn’t be more happy. And pissed off. Why am I pissed off? Well, I’m so glad you asked. You see, I’ve been waiting for this game for over two years and now that I finally have it in my possession I want nothing more than to rip off its plastic wrapper and play it until my eyes bleed and my sphincter implodes.

But I can’t.

No, not because I don’t know how to remove the plastic wrapper, although that is a good guess. It’s because I promised my friends that I wouldn’t play Halo 2 until they could all come over and we could play it together because they’re all tired of the way I smash them to pieces in the original Halo. It seems that all these years of getting my anus wiped when playing against Bread has been good for me when it comes time to give my friends the smackdown. They get Halo Loser Pains and I prescribe Rocket Launcher Robitussin.

Call me Dr. “Boom-Boom” Spartan, Baby! Yeah, Baby. YEAH!

But now I have to wait until they can all come over before I’m actually allowed to even OPEN the damn game. And even worse, they’re under no restrictions whatsoever and they’re all practicing their Halo 2 skilz 24/7 just so they can gang up on me and kill me whenever we do get together.

Have I mentioned that I hate waiting?

Dear Diary

5:18am
Wake up to use bathroom. Since I’m up anyway, check mailbox for package from Amazon containing Halo 2. Curse mail carriers everywhere for not making midnight deliveries. Sheepishly crawl back to apartment when nosy neighbor sees me crying on the hallway floor in my Cuddle Bear pajamas.

6:12am
Consider checking mailbox again, “just to make sure”.

7:21am
Told by HoBiscuit that if I don’t stop humming the Halo theme song and let her sleep she’s going to shove a REAL rocket launcher in my anus. Sideways. And then fire it.

7:32am
New discovery; rocket launchers HURT.

9:43am
While in shower I thought I heard the mail carrier’s truck. Ran downstairs wearing nothing but a towel and wetness only to discover that it was a school bus filled with teenage girls and not the mail truck. Needless to say, no Halo 2, but I did rediscover the joys of high school ridicule. Yay.

10:10am
Found a comfortable seat at the window overlooking the street and waited for the mail truck to bring me my Halo 2.

10:12am
No Halo 2.

10:27am
Still no Halo 2.

10:41am
Still waiting.

10:43am
Why am I still Halo 2-less?

10:51am
Guess what? That’s right! No Halo 2.

11:00am
I give up. Apparently I will not be getting my Halo 2 today. Life can be so cruel. Maybe I need to reevaluate my life? Maybe I shouldn’t be so obsessed with what really is only a stupid game. Yeah! Who needs Halo 2, anyway? I mean, it’s not the end of the world if I don’t get my copy of the game this week, right? I can certainly go a week or two without… OMG! I think that’s the mail truck! Halo 2 might be in there! Gaming bliss and everlasting happiness here I come! YEE-HA!

11:13am
Stupid, empty-handed, Halo 2-less mail carrier. I fart on you.

11:25am
I wonder what I’ll do tomorrow?

H2 Oh Crap

I hate today.

Today really sucks. I don’t care how many other people in the world are happy because I know I’m right when I say that today is the suckiest day in the history of sucky days. It’s such a sucky day that it defies the laws of physics and common sense by somehow both sucking and blowing at the same time.

If this day had a name, it would be Sir Sucky McSucksuck. The Third.

In case you didn’t know already, today is the day that Halo 2 is being released. I had my copy reserved since September of LAST FRICKING YEAR, that’s 2003 people, and yet I do not have a copy of this, the most fabulous of… uhm… fabulous-y? games in my hot little hands. And, according to the packing and shipping demons at Amazon, my copy won’t be shipped until the end of DECEMBER! DECEMBER!

I can’t… They won’t… I just… The… AAARGH!

So, now I’m forced to call those I know who actually stood on line at stores that opened at midnight for a Halo 2 Midnite Madness Super Sale and ask them to describe the game to me. In lurid detail. Over the phone! I’m going to feel like some sicko who calls those phone sex hotlines, you know?

“Oooo, tell me about polygon count! Describe Cortana! Is she hot? Shoot two guns at the same time and hold the phone to the TV speaker so I can hear it! Is that the sound of a rocket launcher? Oh god, I think I wet my pants…”

If I had any pride left I think I’d weep in shame…

New Arrival

“Hey Bub, ain’t you gonna introduce me?”

Looking over at Bread, I realized that I had been sitting on the floor staring off into space for about four hours without saying a word. Snapping back to reality caused me an almost physical pain, especially when said reality included a slimy piece of moldy toast peeking over my shoulder and insistently tugging on my shirt.

“Bread, you… ah, you might want to sit down for this.”
“What’re ya talking about, Bub? Why would I need ta sit down just to meet this loser?”

Wiping the drool from my face, I gave my new friend a quick gesture for him to keep his silence and I pulled Bread over to the side. Luckily, our new guest had noticed another member of the family and was busy giving her his best smoldering gaze of predatory lust.

Interestingly enough, she seemed to be enjoying it.

“Bread, listen. I wanted to tell you earlier, but you disappeared on me and I couldn’t seem to contact you on your cell phone.”
“Well, Bub. Since you wuz having all the trouble with your kitchen and all, I thought it would be a good thing for me to skedaddle until the whole thing blew over, y’know?”

He must have seen the disbelief in my eyes because he looked down at the ground and became a little sheepish when he next opened his mouth.

“Well, I also was laying low after the whole Grouting The Underwear fiasco…”
“I still can’t believe you put grout, and GREY grout at that, in HoBiscuits underwear. What were you thinking?”
“Listen, Bub. After your whole post about having holey underwear I just thought I would be helping you out. And it’s not my fault if Her and your underwear looks the same! I mean, ain’t ladies supposed to wear sexy thongs and such?”
“Wherever would you get that idea?”
“Uh… PlayButter?”

I put my head in my hands and groaned.

“But that’s neither here nor there, Bub. Wassup with this new guy?”
“Bread…”
“Yeah, Bub?”

I knew this was going to hurt him, and even though part of me relished the idea of causing Bread pain, another, larger, part had grown to almost like him. And that made what I had to say all the harder to do.

“Bread, there’s no easy way to say this, but… That’s Miss Ex-Boxx’s future husband.”

For the first time ever, Bread lost his toasty-brown coloring and went white from shock.

“But, but… but…”
“I know this is hard for you, especially seeing as how you and she were getting a little close, but she told me she wanted to date within her species and…”

Bread turned away from the pair of game machines and looked up at me.

“Bub, I’m trying to understand and all, but a couple of things bug me.”

Giving him my full attention and a look of sympathy, I asked;

“Like what, Bread?”
“First of all, I thought all of those machines were girls.”
“Well, he’s been… modified.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. And apparently when they get modified they go from female to male. I don’t really understand it myself but I think it has something to do with getting a 250GB hard drive and a few thousand games pre-installed that makes them all masculine and suave, y’know?”
“Right. I can see that.”

Following Bread’s gaze I saw our newest guest sitting next to Miss Ex-Boxx whispering something in her ear that was making her blush and giggle like a teenager on her first date. He was also stroking her Ethernet port.

“Hey! I’ll have none of that in my house, do you two understand me?! I know you guys like each other, and you want to get to know each other better, but I will NOT have the two of you Connecting until AFTER I’ve made sure you, and I’m looking at YOU Mister, are in proper working order. Do you understand me?”

They both sheepishly mumbled something that sounded vaguely affirmative so I let it go and turned back to Bread. He was pretending that there was something in his eye, but we both knew there wasn’t. I felt myself actually feeling sorry for him.

“Ok Bub, I get the picture. It’s alright though, I’ll live. Plenty of fish in the sea, y’know?”
“I know buddy. I know.”
“Don’t never tell her I got this way over her or I’ll kill you, capeesh?”
“Sure. Will you be alright?”
“Give me a second…”
“Would it help make you feel better if I told you he came with Halo pre-installed?”

That did the trick.

“What?! He’s got the best fricking game in the whole fricking on his fricking hard-drive?! For real?”
“Oh yeah! And the best part is, we can hook them together and play against each other in separate rooms!”
“Holy crap, I am SO going to kick your anus!”
“Well then, let me introduce you to Mr. ModChip and we can get started!”

Smiling wide, we both turned to welcome him to the family.