Monday, January 28, 2013

Why I am Beginning to Hate Skyrim.

ME: So I have to go to this town, and find this dude. Got it.

*Gets to town. Runs into head thief guy.*

HEAD THIEF GUY: So you look like you did not earn your wealth honestly.

ME: Well, if you don't count going on endless dungeon crawls and fighting zombies and sometimes wizard zombies, then yes.

MY CHARACTER: How can you tell that?

THIEF GUY: How you walk, how you move, the way you watch people. You fooled my little shakedown at the gate.

ME: I set him on fire.

MY CHARACTER: Right, look I am looking for an old man.

ME: Yeah, cause there isn't any old men in this city at all ever. Except the one I am looking for.

THIEF GUY: Information without payment? I don't think so. Look, you help me I'll help you.

MY CHARACTER: What do you have in mind?

THIEF GUY: Alright first off I will create a distraction, then you will steal the ring under (some nord ass name I can't pronounce's) desk. Then you will sneak the ring into (some other dudes) pocket.

ME: Um no. I will put this game down right now if I have to do this. Remember that time I had to sneak into that embassy and steal those plans? And then I just panicked and killed everyone in the entire place because I have no points in my sneak skill? I am covered in armor. My body guard is covered in armor. We sound like two metal elephants having sex in the back of a car every time we move. I am not going on this mission.

*Checks quest log*

ME: Alright let's get off this quest, here we go, find the dude, the next step is FUCK. Talk to thief guy. FUCK!

THIEF GUY: You are trying my patience. If you help in this I reward you with wealth.

MY CHARACTER: No, I am not interested.

THIEF GUY: You are wasting a golden opportunity.

ME: Oh my god I am being hustled by a viking! I am not your whore. The armor I am wearing is worth more then anything you will own ever. Why is there no dialog option 'I am not good at this shit, I will fuck it up, but I don't give a shit what you do good luck with that.'

THIEF GUY: Great rewards.

ME: Fuck this, we are going to the bar.

*Walks into bar, there is a guy standing in the center yelling about the sin of drinking.*

ME: Oh what the fuck.


PRIEST DUDE: Hello have you heard the word of (Some dumbass deity?)

MY CHARACTER: No, why don't you tell me about her?

PREIST DUDE: She is the god of love. If you buy this amulet from me, I'll merry you in her temple.

ME: Oh fuck no. Is everybody in this town trying to hustle me. Do I look like a dumb ass tourist to you? My left hand is continuously on fire. What part of that screams 'sell me shit?'

*Breaks off conversation with priest goes to talk to bartender.*

MY CHARACTER: I'm looking for this older man who is staying somewhere in this town.

BARTENDER: He's at the other bar down rat's alley where all the degenerates get drunk and knife fight each other.

ME: You are the hero of Skyrim lady. You are singly the most helpful character that I have ever encountered in this entire game. If the game allowed I would go buy that amulet and marry you.

*Goes to find other bar. Discovers that the town that is two levels built on top of a lake has a goddamn stone dungeon under it.*

ME: How are we not dead? How is this not underwater right now? Why is nothing in here wet? Why is this other bar through what appears to be either a dungeon or the sewer?

*Men helpfully identified as lowlifes and bandits come out and attack us. We kill them*

ME: If this is how you get people into your bar HOW THE HELL ARE YOU MAKING MONEY!?

MY BODYGUARD: I don't have a good feeling about this.


ME: You never have a good feeling about this. You are always saying stupid shit like 'Ow quit setting me on fire!' and 'I have never seen that before!' and “I don't have a good feeling about this.” Way to be positive there.

SCOTT: Are you talking to your game again?

ME: Don't you judge me.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Optimistic Success and an Electric Pole.

Following our amazing suspicious day of productivity, we had decided to treat the pole with wood preserver first thing and then go to Lowes to get the supplies we would need to set the pole in the ground, come back and set the pole. Oh and also stop by my aunts to give her some stuff she needed for the Woodsmith, oh and stop by that crazy discount food place with all the dented shit and get some more cheese.

What's that you say, we were being wildly optimistic? It can't be done? Read on, dear reader.

So I get up early and feed the animals and take the dog for a walk and then put in some laundry and then we are ready to began.

First off we roll the electric pole onto some wood blocks to keep it up off the ground, and then we gather our supplies and paint on the wood preserver while trying not to breath in. This is also where Holly learned an important lesson called, 'why you should have bought those knee pads when you had the chance.' Yeah, so maybe we had to wait for the sun to burn off some of the frost on the pole before starting in, but you know what the sun did not do?

If you answered, unthaw the frozen ass hard as marble ground, you'd be right!

My left knee may never forgive me.

So we painted on the wood preserver changed clothes, hopped in the car and set off for phase 1.5. So we get to aunt and uncles house and it turns out they are both home and so we get to talking and then we have some tea and then my aunt reveals she has some homemade pumpkin bread we can eat and then we get to telling stories and then Scott and my Uncle start to look through the Woodsmith manual and then it's like noon thirty.

Of course then we have to say our goodbyes and hop back in the car and drive off to Lowes for part 2. Every trip to Lowes is like a game. More specifically, like a scavenger hunt. Rule number one, sections are kinda sorta labeled, but they will not contain everything you would think would go there. Rule number two is that if you are going with a man, you are never allowed to ask an employee because that would mean admitting defeat. The only exception to this rule is if you split up, then you are allowed to hunt down in employee, but the two of you will arrive just as the man you are with has found the section and then he will have to pretend he does not know you to save his manliness. Rule number three is that you will always be on a time limit when you go, to add excitement/stress. Rule number four is that you will never, no matter how hard you try, understand which lanes are for the flat cart things and which are not. I shun you contractor checkout.

So after playing the Lowes game we went on to part 2.5, and went to the crazy cheap food store and then drove home. It was about oh, three in the afternoon. So I threw a sandwich and tea in my face and then went outside to tackle that pole.

First off, we had to tie it to the backhoe in such a way that we could take it down the road. Our only solution was to tie it to the bucket, and then tie one end to the side, so it looked like the backhoe was about to go jousting with a telephone pole.*

Then I wrapped a chain around the front end to stabilize the whole thing and off we went. If you are wondering that that is like, it was like walking the biggest dog ever. Or possibly a dinosaur.

Well, we got it over there safe and sound and then unhooked it. Then we filled the bottom of the hole, which was already filled with water because it's fucking wet here, with gravel and sand. Then we struggled and cursed and yelled and fought the goddamn pole onto the bucket and after a botched first attempt that made us accuse each other of not doing it right, we got the end in the hole and there was much fucking rejoicing.

Then we chained it to the bucket to keep it from crushing something, and niggled the backhoe around until the pole was upright and level. Mostly level, anyway. Then we set to filling in the hole. Looking up, I could see the sun had slipped behind the trees on the ridge, and that the sky was taking on that pale gray of a winter evening. Oh boy.

We commenced shoveling. I got rocks and threw them in the hole around the pole and then we shoveled in dirt. It got darker. We shoveled in more dirt and rocks. I managed to hit my head on the backhoe bucket. It got really kinda a lot dark. Like, oh hey, there is the moon dark. Then we poured in two bags of Quickcrete next to the pole, and the shoveled some more dirt around it.

By the time we were ready to place in the last bag, the night was coming in. You know that point where if you are standing out in a field it is still light enough to see, but the trees and forests and buildings are just pitch black holes against a deep blue black sky?

Yeah, we were at that point.

So in the almost but not quite dark we shoveled on enough earth to cover the Quickcrete and then cleaned up our tools. And by cleaned up our tools, I mean we threw everything onto the porch of the second mobile home, crawled back inside the livable mobile home and collapsed.

Sometimes I wonder about us. Do normal people try to cram two and three days into one day? Is this just us? Are we crazy?

The world may never know.

*You know what the Olympics needs? Backhoe telephone pole jousting. Get on that, people who decide what goes into the Olympics. Get on that.

Monday, January 21, 2013

The Culvert Pipe and the Electric Pole.

Of course the coming of the great electric guys meant that we had to do two things that day, install the culvert pipe we have only been meaning to install for like two years now, and take out the electric pole and prep it to be moved.

Easy right?

So we get the backhoe and then we get the culvert pipe and we began. Now of course once we dig a big trench in the driveway for the pipe we won't be able to drive across it. Which means if we don't dump enough gravel next to the hole we will be using the motherfucking wheelbarrow. It's kinda like one of those riddles where you, a fox, a dog, and a goat have to cross a river but the boat only holds two. And you can't leave the fox alone with the dog, or the dog alone with the goat.

The fox and the goat being metaphors for gravel and dirt, obviously.

We actually made a list of operations, to make sure that we didn't forget a step or strand a piece of equipment on the wrong side of the gulf and started in. First we filled King the Backhoes bucket with gravel, and dumped it on the far side of the soon to be trench. Then Scott pulled King up into the yard and dug out the trench, with me spotting him.

It took about, oh, twenty minutes, if that. Twenty minutes to do something that would have taken me two weeks everyday, of hand digging to do, if not more. Backhoes are fucking sweet is what I am saying.

Once the trench was deep enough, we cleared it out a bit with shovels, just getting the loose dirt and miscellaneous clay out of there. Of course once we had connected the trench to the ditch water had come pouring through, making this task a bit of a pain in the ass. Especially because the bottom of the trench looked solid but it wasn't. Of course I learned this by thinking I could just step on down in there and pick up a rock, only to sink up to my ankles in clay muck.

Luckily my boots were still on when I made it out.

Then we laid the pipe in, adjusted the fit, made sure the water was running through the pipe and not under it, rocked around the ends and then filled the trench back in with dirt and gravel. Then I had to go stand and watch the outflow pipe for awhile, because, you know.

Then we went inside for a cup of tea, to figure out how to remove our future electric pole. See, the pole had a light on it. And to power the light, there is a line going to the pole. A line we were going to have to cut. We had already flipped the breaker off for it, and tested it to make sure it was dead, because we are not stupid. Now we needed to cut the line off at the main pole. Which was going to take a extension ladder, at best. Now, I am afraid of heights like whoa. Yet, for the second time that day, a little light bulb came on.

Why don't I just go up in the backhoe bucket? Ken-inatractor did it, and he didn't die.

So we get King and turn him around and positioned him next to the pole and I climbed into the front bucket. My only explanation for this is I really, really want that house. So Scott turns it on and up I go.

I think I can safely say it was scary as shit. You know how when you are up high people say shit like 'don't look down?' Yeah, that doesn't help one bit, because I can still look out.

But I goddamned did it. Motherfuckers.

Then I came back down and threw myself at the earth. Then it was a simple matter of pulling the pole itself out of the ground. Which was fun.*

First off, we couldn't just put the chain around the pole and yank it out of the ground, because it was too tall and then we would have made a fulcrum point and it probably would have come down on top of the backhoe. Or the shed. Or me. So we had to put the chain on the pole, and then I worked it up the pole with a board while Scott gently raised the bucket until we had reached the middle and he could yank it up out of the ground.

Then I unhooked the chain and rolled it off the bucket and Scott drove off to dig the hole to place it in while I stripped the light off it. At that point we decided to call it a day because we had crammed about two days into one day and we were both tired as shit.

Then we went and drank beer and ate pizza.

The pizza and beer of VICTORY!

*It was not fun.

Friday, January 18, 2013

Electric Service and a Good Idea.

Today, or more correctly yesterday by the time you read this, dear readers, was made of concentrated awesome.

We had planned to install the culvert pipe under the driveway and connect the ditch we had dug with the far side of the road so the water would stop running down the left tire track and forming a miniature grand canyon. A miniature grand canyon that we had to drive over. And walk through.

So as we were in the kitchen making our today plans and waiting for it to at least warm up to a balmy forty degrees, two guys from the electric company pulled in. Now, I had totally forgotten we had called them, so this came as a surprise. Luckily, Scott was more on the ball then I was, and stepped outside to talk to them, while I was still making sure my pants didn't have any holes in bad places. Oh what, like you dress well around the house? Pffft. Fuck that noise.

Anyway, I step outside too, clutching my mug of tea because caffeine = giving a shit and they ask us where we need the new line, and which pole it was we needed checked for storm damage. We all walk over to the second mobile home, where it's small power pole is leaning sadly uphill.

I also realized at this point, that I was still wearing my kitty hat with the pink glittery nose and ears that makes me look like I am twelve. I decided to roll with it.

So they tell us where to put the new pole, and what service to get on it for the house. They also explain that we have to supply the pole and install it.

Well then.

So we ask where to get poles. They say Southern States, maybe. They also give us a name of someone they know will install it for us, and also a good idea of what kind of truck we will need to get a twenty five foot tall electric pole to our house. Mission accomplished, we all troop back over towards the driveway, and start the thanks for coming out speech. I wasn't really paying attention, and I felt my gaze wander over the yard, where it stopped on the light pole.

You know, the light pole that holds nothing but a yard light that has been broken since my dad moved in. That pole.

And an idea hit me.

“Hey! Why can't we just use that pole?” I blurted out in the middle of, 'we'll give you a call.'

Well, Mr Electric guy swivels looks at the pole and said the greatest thing ever in the history of ever.

“Yeah you can use that pole as long as the bottom is still good.” Then he eyed the backhoe. “Tell you what, you can dig the hole with the backhoe, Quickcrete the post in and use the bucket to tamp the dirt in, won't cost you a thing.”

I can tell you in that moment, dear most beloved readers, that I truly felt like queen of the entire world.

Then I said "wow this place just keeps on giving.”

Then they left and we went back inside where we stared at that pole through the window. Our super awesome new electric pole for the house.

Our super awesome free pole.

Sometimes, I even amaze myself.

Monday, January 14, 2013

Timeline, or That Movie That Does not Understand Science.

So while I was at my uncles house they were all like let's watch a movie, an I was all like, I don't really watch movies, an they were all like, here's a good one, we'll watch Timeline. So I grabbed a beer and sat on the couch and we watched Timeline. I'm also having a hard time not putting Timeline in italics like TIMELINE because that's how my brain thinks it should look. I would warn you about spoilers, but there is really no point with this film.

This movie was about a company that ships things anywhere in the world with magic their teleporter. Except something goes wrong and it starts sending shit back in time. So then they send some people back in time because the butterfly effect hasn't been invented in this movie. But they only have a six hour window to go back in time, fuck around and come back. After that they are stuck in 14th century France. During a battle. Because you know the magic teleporter necklaces that let you come back have a limited battery life or some shit.

Well of course like, half of them don't come back, or they do come back but the machine fucked up and they are like dead. Like really, really dead.

But then! Then they find this archaeologist dude who totally played that old guy from that one movie with the guns, who wants to go back in time because he does not understand science. So he does and then he gets captured by the invading English because he is a modern guy in glasses wandering around 14th century France during a battle.

I can't stress the battle part enough.

So then his plucky son, Male Protagonist # 1 that I hated because he brought Female Protagonist #1 an already opened beer while she was working on a dig site because that's totally okay, so they could have a hilarious moment where she doesn't see him and knocks it over, and then she drinks it because accepting already open beers from your bosses son is the best idea ever that nothing could ever go wrong with that plan, find out Old Guy is missing when Male Protagonist #2 Old Guys assistant discovers a note that Old Guy wrote on some leather back in 14th century France knowing that they would find it at the dig site at the same location in modern day France.

Got that? No. Whatever, it's really not import other then Male Pro #1 and #2, a French dude, Female Pro #1 and their nerd friend get on a jet and go to corporate teleporter Co. Which of course tells them everything that's happened minus the covered up murders, because telling a bunch of people that have a good reason to hate you, no loyalty, and are possibly security risks that you have a freaking teleporter that you are hiding from the rest of the world can never go wrong at all.

So they get there and Teleporter Co. is all like, we need you to get the Old Guy back. So they agree because six hour window OMG! Excpet nerd boy says no fucking way don't you understand how this works? And I'm all I know nerd guy! They should ask for triple overtime pay! With hazard pay. But they don't cause they are retarded and they just get in the machine and go.

And then, well, the exact things you would expect to happen when you just up and go to 14th century France during THE MIDDLE OF A BATTLE. Or course everyone spoke modern French and English because um, reverse butterfly effect?

Two extraneous characters that had no names die, but not before one them accidentally destroys the teleporter by teleporting back with a grenade like an idiot. Frenchy dies because he is not English. The rest of them almost die because they are sticking out like sore thumbs. Like you do.

But then! Male Protagonist #2 saves a looking girl who is now Female Protagonist # 2. Also he is the only one in this whole party besides Old Guy that 1: Knows the local English language and customs, 2: can fight with medieval weaponry and 3: is a badass.

Also the company guy sent back with them is being totally reasonable and they all hate him for it. Then eventually he gets stabbed for it. Then wacky time travel shit happens. Then everybody gets captured at least once by various people.

More butterfly effect shit goes down and then it's the big battle to take the English at the Castle. Where instead of how the battle was supposed to go, our intrepid dumbasses heroes:

Save Female Protagonist #2 who was supposed to be the turning point of the battle through her death.

Teach the English how to make everlasting Greek fire because why the fuck not?

Show the French a secret passage into the castle.

Oh and then they blow up pretty much the entire back half of the castle.

Because that won't change the future. Nope not at all. Then male Protagonist #2 stays with his Female Protagonist #2 in the past while the others go back to the freshly repaired teleporter because apparently things like health care and clean drinking water were not important to him.

So all four of them come back. From the past. Where they blew up a castle.

Then my uncle asked me how I liked the movie or something I had to explain that because they didn't take into account either the rotation of the earth, or it's movement through outer space, that everyone would have died in the vacuum of space when they teleported because it is stuck to only one location. Then I also said that I didn't like Male Protagonist #1 and then I asked Scott what his name was and he didn't know.

Then I had to explain that when you bring the Female lead an already open beer and tell her you like her and she gently lets you down because you are the bosses son and she loves and really wants to keep her job here, it is not okay to show her throwing herself at him for comfort at every available opportunity in 14th Century France in the middle of a battle.

And my uncle gave me a weird look and then I looked at my aunt to back me up but she was asleep. And then Scott was all like it's late we better go and then we did but now I'm still like, not that's not okay and if going back in time to save your boss isn't enough to keep you on the payroll I don't think that dating his son should be within your dignity.

And Scott was all like, no she went to him for comfort and fell in love with him.

An I'm like, no that's not what happens. I don't tell men I'm not interested and then start throwing myself at them when I get scared. She was a strong women who stabbed a dude to death with a motherfucking arrow who clearly did not need a man to get her through that shit.

An then Scott was like I think you missed the point of the film.

An then I'm like, no, the point of the film is that no matter what you never want to get into a teleporter.

Which I believe is what we can all take away from this film.

TIMELINE. Sorry I'll stop now.


I'll stop.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

We Cleaned Out the Shed, also Timeline Happened

So yesterday, we cleaned out that bastard tool shed. It was an adventure. First off we went in pulled a whole bunch of shit out. Rotting cardboard boxes that were filled with mouse nests and pee. And mouse poop, and once or twice mummified mouse corpses. There were boxes of shit that defied explanation. The real problem was that my dad had filled the shed with everything ever. So knew we were going to have to pull out a set of shelves and rehome the Shopsmith.

The Shopsmith, for those of you that do not know, is a machine that through a few simple* changes becomes a table saw, a band saw, a drill press and a lathe. It's basically a transformer that you have to transform yourself. So it's not so much a robot in disguise as a power tool in disguise. Except that it can cut your hand off. Actually, I guess it's exactly like a Transformer.

Anyways, this thing was sitting in the middle of the floor. So getting to any of the worktables or rolling tool boxes along the walls was like playing a real life version of the game where you have to slide the little plastic squares around to make a picture. This was more like the crazy Japanese version though, because the floor was littered with shit, meaning to move the Shopsmith you had to clear a spot to put it, which meant that we had to put all the crap where the Shopsmith was, which meant that we parked the Shopsmith in front of the chest freezer and cabinet full of air compressor tools and just pretended those things were dead to us.

Of course we had made no plans to get rid of said Shopsmith before we started working because planning for things is hard. So Scott called my uncle and asked if he wanted the shop smith. Except my aunt answered and said that she wanted the Shopsmith for herself. Apparently she had been using my uncles drill press to make Christmas wreaths and had left foam bits all over his garage. He was less then thrilled. I would also like to think that she had yelled as a parting shot as he went off to work “I'll get my own drill press you'll see!”

Sometimes life just works out like that. So we made plans to visit them and have dinner and deliver one Shopsmith.

All I have to say about cleaning out the shed is that, holy hell sweet Jesus my dad was a hoarder. At one point I pulled what looked like a dinged up metal ingot off a shelf and Scott yelled “Put that down it's made of lead!”

And then I yelled “Why did my dad have a lead ingot in his shed!?”

An Scott's like “I don't know but go wash your hands right now!”

Among the other priceless treasures crap we found an old remote controlled car that I remembered having as a child that Scott wanted to play with but we couldn't find the controller, a peanut butter jar filled with bolts, two washers that went somewhere on the brake assembly of a car my dad hadn't owned since I was in middle school (I'm 27), along with instruction manuals for a VW bug, and a Volkswagen Rabbit with these psychedelic hand painted watercolor tie dyed pictures of the cars on the front.

Luckily we were able to make short work of organizing, due to my superior labeling abilities. I labeled everything, because if it's one thing I've learned it's that you will never, ever remember what you put in that box. Never. Ever, Never. Sure you know now, but three months later, not a fucking clue. I labeled one drawer Bunch O' Shit and another box Small Tubes of Crap. Let's just say I wasn't in the best of moods. Finally we were able to shut the doors on the shed and man and women handle the Shopsmith into the back of our truck.

We changed, locked the chickens up and headed off to my uncles house in the dark. Which brings me to my next point. Do you remember when we fixed the lights on the truck? The terrible struggle of replacing the whole wiring harness and fighting it into the dash and then getting it inspected literally the day before the cut off?

Well, guess what started flickering halfway through our journey?

Ha ha haaaa! The headlights. Of course we kept going, because we really wanted to get rid of that Shopsmith. So we show up at my uncles, to find that my dad's older brother is up visiting. My uncle has the look of a man that has been told he has to help unload a Shopsmith tonight. We have dinner, and my dad's older brother reveals he was the one that talked my dad into the buying the thing, which made me yell theatrically “it was you” while I pretended to poke him.

Then we all wrestled the Shopsmith out of the truck and into the pantry where my aunt had a space for it because she is actually prepared for unexpected arrivals of Shopsmiths.

Then we all had some of the beer I brought over to celebrate the shed cleaning sat down and watched the movie Timeline which I will talk about in my next post because that movie picked science up and shattered it all over the floor.

Then we got back in the truck and drove back home, where the headlights flickered on and off the whole time and thank god there was a full moon and there aren't any police officers in Buttfucknowheresville.

After that I took a shower and went to bed because it was like midnight and my day had been long enough thank you very much.

*That part is a lie.

Saturday, January 5, 2013

Scott's Birthday, Drinking and the Wii

So, yesterday was Scott's Birthday, and we partied like it was, uh, party time. First off we decided to make a cake. Which went pretty well. Mostly. You know how when you make a cake from scratch and then lovingly pour it into round cake pans and then bake it and then pull it out of the oven and the centers have dropped slightly? And then you don't think much of it and then you pull it out of the cake pan and realize that the dip between the two layers is pretty sizable when you combine the two? Well let me tell you something right now.

Don't fill that gap with icing.

Oh it looks tempting. You have icing. You have a gap to fill. It's like it was meant to be. But you know what you end up with? A cake that is so sugary and so rich that neither one of us could eat a whole piece. Because when Holly makes a cake, she uses cream and butter because life is too shot for all that low fat bullshit.

Which is also why my pants don't fit this morning. We have also been pretty much snowed in for something like a week now, and I'm feeling it. Which led to our next decision. Playing the Wii.

Now the Wii is something of a red headed step child of my video game family. I love my Playstation 3 like it is my own child. I love my cranky old desktop PC. What I hardly ever touch however, is the Wii. The last time I had played it, was about oh, two years ago. See, I bought it for my father. And then he died. (I don't think that the two are related.*) So I inherited the Wii.

So we dusted it off, literally, put batteries in the Wii motes, found the right game (Wii sports resort) and started in flailing like mad people. At this juncture I have to explain something. That something is the fact that I have banned board games from our house. Permanently. Because a game of battle ship almost destroyed our marriage. Every game that pits us against each other became a battle of wills and skill of truly epic proportions. Except for some reason, Wii games, because I get to blame my avatar for every mistake I make.

And oh boy did I.

I called her a stupid bitch whore motherfucker. I called her a idiot whore mongering cur. I got creative.

She deserved it.

Also, we play fairly. With no sabotage or for the most part no trash talking. But oh my god the flailing. You haven't truly lived until you have tried to play Wii sports without knocking down the Christmas tree or falling over or punching the ceiling fan in it's smug bladey face in a tiny mobile home living room.

I also found that as I got drunker I started yelling more at the TV and singing eye of the tiger whenever I won. Scott spend a good chunk of time trying to make his avatar look like it was jerking off with something.

I also learned that neither Scott nor I can play Wii frisbee golf. We were so bad at it that the game kept giving us “give up points” and cutting off the courses before we could finish them. It got so bad that whenever the game would announce that one of us had been given give up points we knew the other player had only three tries or so to win so at one point I was out of the game and yelling at Scott to finish the course for the both of us so I could finally have closure. It is possible I was fairly drunk by then.

Just a tad.

A smidgen.

Tiny bit.

Anyway. This morning I managed to dodge a hangover which was good. Less good is the fact that I can't lift my right arm higher then my shoulder without terrible pain. Actually, I can't really lift it at all.

We are both walking around like we have pulled all our torso muscles and grimacing at basic tasks. Yeah. So I think I'm going to have to wait another two years before playing it again.

You know just to be on the safe side.

*Still, don't buy Wii's for people over 60. You might kill them. Just saying. Why take a chance huh?

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

New Years, Six Dollar wine, JJR Tolkien and Le Miserables.

So, I'm hungover now. Hopefully this recounting of last night makes sense, It might not.


Yup. Last night I drank an entire bottle of wine. Yuppers. An entire six dollar bottle of wine. Why did I do this thing, you might ask?

Because I fucking felt like it.

So me and the husband get drunk in the kitchen and then start reenacting The Lord of the Rings in the kitchen.

ME: Can you picture being Frodo on the fucking boat, at the end of Return of King when they sail off to the gray havens? I mean, he like gets up in middle of the night because he can't sleep because of all the TERRIBLE TRAUMA, and he gets to the kitchen and then Elrond is all drunk again?

ME AS ELROND: That fucking bastard took my fucking daughter! That son of bitch. He doesn't deserve her, he's, he's not fit to, to- *Starts crying*

ME AS GALADRIEL: Yes, we know Elrond. Maybe you should stop drinking honey.

ME AS CELEBORN: Uh huh. Yup. He's a bastard. Got it.

ME AS ELROND: Son of bitch, that stupid son of a bitch, with his hands on my daughter. I sent him to die on that quest!

ME AS GANDALF: Oh don't mind me, I'll just be here in a corner AFTER I SAVED THE ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD. After you elves were doing shit nothing to help. Sure just sit around in elf town doing JACK and SHIT. It's cool though, no really, no you just go on about your petty bullshit Elrond everyone wants to hear that.

SCOTT AS BILBO: Oh look I think I shall go for a walk today! Oh no the fields are so wet!

ME AS FRODO: Fuck this noise.

Then we got really drunk and listened to Star Wars sound track on Scott's record player. Then I got super drunk and he put on Le Miserables.

You know what's kinda of a party killer? Le miserables.

I have never actually seen the play in all it's entirety. Scott attempted to explain the plot. It was kind of a downer.

ME: So she's hooking for her kid?

SCOTT: Yes she also sells her hair.

ME: That does not seem like a sound investment strategy. How fast does hair grow anyway?

SCOTT: I don't know.

ME: This is depressing.

SCOTT: You know that why it's called the Miserable One's right?

ME READING THE BACK OF THE RECORD: Oh no. Now this makes sense. This was written by Victor Hugo?

SCOTT: Yeah why?

ME: Because I can't make it through his books Scott. They aren't even man porn Scott. Look when I read Victor Hugo I feel like he is slapping me repeatably with his penis.

SCOTT: You know what I think I'll turn this off.

ME: That would be best.

Then about that point I had to eat some emergency crackers and then I went to bed because the world had become soft and warm and pleasant.

At least until this morning.