Best. Treehouse of Horrors. Ever.
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Aside from listening to The Life of a Showgirl a few dozen times? :) Not too much on the docket. The dogs are going to demand a nice long walk after last weekend's washout. They make a compelling case. I need to do something fun--the past few weekends have been all about tedious chores and I could do with some frivolity. Maybe minigolf. But, like, tee off like it's real golf. There has to be a putt-putt course round here I haven't been banned from...
As a kid I was ink-stained something like 80% of my school time. Pens exploded a lot around me. Mysterious. Now I know why...I switched from traditional pens to ballpens as soon as I could, and more recently to fineliners and gel pens. I've managed to explode them all. I was like Firestarter only with ink. Not the best mutant superpower to have, but I guess they can't all be cool and cinematic.
As a kid I was ink-stained something like 80% of my school time. Pens exploded a lot around me. Mysterious. Now I know why...
Veni, vidi, vhini "I came, I saw, I complained to a manager." -Julius Karen
I appreciate that. I'm fairly sure my phone can probably manage some kind of notification... hmmm... iVenge... that seems like a legit app I should totally install...
If I get swept away in a flash flood, avenge me. AVENGE MEEEE!Um... how? Like, who do I get angry at that I can do something against? Cuz I'll do it, just you wait and see. I think obviously the culprit here is hydrogen. Sure, sure, you could argue that oxygen is the big atom in the molecule, but I really think if we just wipe out all the hydrogen, the flash flooding will take care of itself. It'll take some time and maybe a little money, but if something's worth doing right, it's worth destroying 90% of the atoms in the visible universe.
Sometimes critters just make poor life decisions.At the wolf center, the wolf enclosure would occasionally have a turkey fly into it. What they were thinking I have NO idea, but the only reason we knew it was happening was there would be a perfectly circular blast crater of turkey feathers down, feathers, big feathers like a fireball template...
My couch is haunted. That's right: I've got an upholsterygeist.
Apparently it's going to rain nigh-on forever this weekend. Not going to stop me from hiking. If I get swept away in a flash flood, avenge me. AVENGE MEEEE! Other than that, not sure what's happening. There's a big old pile of entropy sitting around I probably should do something about. But that sounds like... effort...
In his dying moments, Jean-Luc Picard realizes that his entire life—indeed, the lives of everyone in his universe—is just a product of Tommy Westphall’s holodeck.
Proposed national agenda: Ship Florida’s alligators to Oregon to cull the population of renegade cows.
The only thing I would do is build giant robots. Good thing I bought Old Glory Insurance!
Florida woman punches alligator to rescue her dog It feels like this is no longer even weird. Like, it's a typical Tuesday in Florida. You can't walk down the street there without seeing someone yell "FLUFFY NOOO!" and then punch a gator with a leash hanging out of the corner of its jaw.
There's a woman at the EV charging station smoking a cigarette and it's taking all my self control not to yell: "PUT THAT THING OUT YOU FOOL! DO YOU WANT TO BLOW US ALL UP?!"
Is there a term for taking a nap inside a nap? Like... napception? Because that's what I want to do this weekend.
*slow clap* That was impressive.
Right? Even the whole time I was writing the email, it was hard not to hear it sarcastically. "Thanks for doing such a great job. No, I really mean it. This is not trolling. Seriously." Still sounds like trolling. :)
Follow-up to the DMV story. I have a friend who works for the state department of transportation. So I texted him "Hey, I've been trying to figure out who I can email to tell them what a great job the DMV did." *lengthy pause* "I've literally never had anyone ask that question. Let me ask around." *four hours later* "I've talked to a bunch of people and no one else has ever had anyone ask where someone can say something nice about the DMV. There apparently is no way to do that. Here's a direct email address of a guy, but we're all pretty confused by the request to be honest."
In the series finale, the Taylors' beloved neighbor and dispenser of wisdom finally reveals his face... a volleyball with Kip Wilson's handprint on it.
I had to run to the DMV unexpectedly today. And I have to say: They do a great job. Everyone likes to dunk on them, but I've always had a fine experience. It took 20 minutes from the time I walked in to the time I walked out. Hell, I couldn't get that kind of service at a chain hardware store or Best Buy. Now I'm spending my afternoon figuring out if there's somewhere I can post a positive review of the experience because dammit, things are actually pretty good. Other than that, not quite sure what's on the agenda. Going to run through the woods tomorrow morning. Like, on a trail intentionally, not because I'm being chased by a ax-wielding maniac or anything. I don't run fast enough for them kind of shenanigans. I gotta get caught up on some writing, since mid-week had a lot of distractions to deal with. I'm working on a novel where Harry Houdini and H.P. Lovecraft team up to fight eldritch horrors in 1920s America. First part's up on the Wattpad if that's a thing anyone has (under a pen-name, which I use for the pulpier stuff I write). I'm having fun with it, which is a nice change. I got burned out after the last novel and last year was dry creatively. So it's nice to be enjoying it again.
Tamriel is doomed when, after Jean-Luc Picard is murdered by cultists of Mehrunes Dagon, his illegitimate son Boromir can't find anyone to run errands for him because the Dragonborn is killed by guards for the crime of accidentally picking up an apple that didn't belong to them during a dragon attack. Weep for the future, Na'toth. Weep for us all.
I had a Starfinder vesk once who'd slept through xenobiology class and wasn't up to speed on other species' anatomy. He'd also slept through xenocultures and missed out a whole unit on galactic collquialisms. YSOKI (to bad guys currently firing on us): Kiss my ass!
BACKGROUND: The party is trapped in an insane asylum where eldritch horrors are running amok. They enter the institution’s library and the walls are covered in Yellow Signs (not mechanically active, but still Yellow Signs.) A single inmate is in the center of the room… doing what Multiple Miggs was doing in Silence of the Lambs. PLAYER: Great. A public hasturbater.
*debeverages*
Revolting Tangles sounds like a Marxist barber shop.
Grinding In the Backyard would be a good name for Emo Tween Drama's first single.
Emo Tween Drama would be a great name for a band.
Wooo! Have a great start to the new campaign, Cal! Glad to hear you're stepping back behind the screen. Crush the PCs! Drive them before you! Hear the weeping and lamentation of their snacks!
Glowing possums would be awesome... I wish I had a top tier genetic engineering lab and about 500 unpaid interns. Not for the first time. Not for the first time today. EDIT: I miss Veridian Dynamics.
Garrett Morris, original SNL cast member, experiences a surprising late-career surge of viral Internet fame doing ASMR for the Hard of Hearing.
That hasn't been my experience at all. PF1 Disarm: AoO provoked by trying to pick up weapon. Or disarmer uses move action to pick up weapon. Or disarmed opponent uses unarmed strike which provokes AoO. Or wizard casts mage hand from across room to move weapon out of reach of disarmed opponent. Or... or... or... the list of situational outcomes is long and varied. PF2 Disarm: -1 penalty to attack for an action if they take the action or for the round if they don't. This sums up my experience with pretty much every aspect of PF1 vs. PF2. I prefer the former experience. I know there are people who prefer the latter. It's a matter of taste.
THOUGHT: The Blades asking me to go to all the Cyrodilic rulers for military aid is like Delta Force asking a random guy in County lock-up to lobby Congress for more military spending. I’m flattered, sure, and I appreciate the help against the mud crabs, but is it really strategically the *best* move? ALSO: I’m keeping track of the number of times someone says “you’ll probably die but…” when asking me to do something. The number is higher than zero, which is definitely less than ideal, from a motivation perspective.
I had all kinds of plans but then I got some kinda crud. So now I'm alternating between naps and playing Oblivion: Remastered. TRANSCRIPT SO FAR: EMPEROR URIEL SEPTIM: Only you, prisoner, stand between humanity and the Fires of Oblivion. MUD CRAB: Hold my beer.
Wow. There is nothing I want more in life than to do this to every deer in my state. Hell, I will import deer from other states if we don't have enough. Consequences be damned, I want my army of terrifying alien metal deer!
You know, if I were a reckless billionaire, I wouldn't be so public about my space travel ambitions. I'd secretly launch a rocket, land on the moon, and leave behind the Wally World Moose statue from National Lampoon's Vacation... “Sorry folks, the Moon’s closed. The moose out front shoulda told ya.”
Enemy archer rolls poorly. ME (waves arm): Deflect Arrows! It became a running gag, every time a ranged attack missed. None of us actually had the feat.
We inherited this system and the company that does maintenance borders on criminal in their mark-up. I took to winterizing it myself because of what they wanted to charge. For that kind of money, they better throw in some good drugs or gold-plated sprinkler heads or one of those upside-down airplane stamps. Their mistake is overestimating how much I actually rely on their services and the system they installed. I am perfectly capable of using a hose and sprinkler system old-school till I get around to repairing things. Especially since 80% of the system already works. The only thing they offer is convenience and there's only so much, as an inveterate cheap bastard, that I'm willing to shell out for convenience. Now if they were roofers I'd be screwed because I've run the numbers and whatever roofers want to charge is lower than the inevitable medical bills and lost time I'll end up with if I try to get on my roof and do any strenuous labor beyond clinging to the shingles and breathing heavily. But this is on and/or under the ground, which is where I'm from. In other weekend plans, just found out a friend got a new puppy so I'll be going over to squee about that Sunday.
In all likelihood, I'll be excavating my lawn in an amateurish attempt to fix a sprinkler system. I had someone come out and give me a quote to repair it and somehow between having a conversation with the tech and getting the PDF estimate the workload doubled and several new items got added, raising the price to "Fine, I'll do it my damn self!" God I hope I don't wake any Balrogs. That's, like, the last thing the neighborhood needs. Buncha Balrogs running around, passing and s$!&.
Yeah. I used to be sarcastic and then I realized my most wild and withering sarcasm was someone else’s core beliefs. Thanks, Internet.
After some Russian hooligans kill Bill S. Preston Esq. and steal his time-traveling phone booth, retired killer Ted 'Theodore' Logan is left with no choice but to go on a murder rampage until he gets the $70,000 he is owed, at which point he can finally have breakfast at Canadian Tiffany's. With a prostitute.
Welles: "Yes, Rosebud frozen peas. Full of country goodness and green pea-ness!" I say this out loud far more often than is appropriate.
Tonight, Orson Welles will be doing the same thing he does every night: trying to take over the world. But first, some Mrs. Pell's fish sticks... yes! Oh yes! They're even better raw!
BACKGROUND: My Elder Mythos cleric of Umr at Tawil developed the habit of carrying around the magically preserved heads of certain enemies for much of the campaign. One of the other players finally commented on this, and how creepy it was. ME: You know that thing where somebody asks 'do you have any questions?' and you can't think of any questions so you say 'no, I'm good' only later, after they're gone, you think of a bunch of questions? Well, I solved that.
Regill failed a save against Dominate Person in one playthrough and just gnome-murdered the HELL out of the Knight Commander. I can imagine him standing in the aftermath, covered in blood, calmly observing: "There will be a great deal of paperwork as a result of this..."
I loved Strange Aeons. By far it's the favorite adventure path I've GM'd. So much fun.
Of course he could. Big man like that, crushing a tiny head, how's he going to get hurt? Plus, the Mountain could survive nearly anything. Except, you know, a keep falling on top of him. But who could walk away from that without plot armor, amiright?
HYPOTHESIS: Greybor is Norgorber’s blooper reel.
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