The Lord of the Rings Marathon That Wasn’t

When last we spoke, the First Peter Weekend had just ended, and so I returned to work for a week of exhilaration.  [/sarcasm]

The subsequent weekend started over lunch on Monday, though clearly there was still an entire week of work before the actual events would occur.  Lord of the Rings knowledge came up, as it always will whenever two nerds shovel food into their gaping maws together.  Only here, there were four nerds – Cameron, Jack, Tasha, and Yours Truly.  All of whom, possibly excepting Cameron, must bow before the superior Lord of the Rings knowledge of Paul the Super-Nerd, Step-dad Extraordinaire.

Rather than rip the pens from our pocket-protectors and hold a duel in the work cafeteria, we elect for a more civilized approach, and resolve to gather at Cameron’s hobbit hovel that Saturday (since he had by far the best living-room setup as he lives in Kent, where a house costs less than an eReader) and partake in the closest all of us will ever come to a marathon:

Watching the extended editions of all three Lord of the Rings movies consecutively.  726 minutes of Middle Earth Mayhem – long enough to cause Deep Vein Thombrosis.  Feel the burn!

Since they’re smart, they put me in charge of one thing for the event – deciding on the drinking game, and bringing the booze.

Saturday comes, and I’ve purchased a bottle of Crown Royal, and brought along War of the Ring and Small World, in the likely event that we distract ourselves from 12 hours of adventure.  Jack introduces his wife, Melissa, and it is immediately clear that Jack has outkicked his coverage by a looooong way.  But more on that later.

Cameron, who’s a fantastic cook, prepares a delicious eggs, bacon, and waffles breakfast, which we quickly polish off and clean up and then get down to business.  Namely… watching Fellowship of the Ring and drinking hard.

Did I skip the part where Melissa had never drank before?  An alcohol virgin?  I’ve heard tales of such creatures, true, but to see one in real life?  This must be what Captain Cook felt like when he saw kangaroos for the first time.

And just like Captain Cook, I grabbed my rifle and dropped sights on the poor, unsuspecting creature.  Mixing mountain dew and crown (DO NOT DRINK THIS.  IT’S GHETTO AND TERRIBLE.), we unleashed ourselves on the day.  The Drinking Game’s rules were simple:

Whenever someone says “Precious”…. drink.

Whenever someone refered to Sauron as anything other than ‘Sauron’… drink.

Whenever they spoke Elvish… drink.

Whenever someone in the room decided they’d done something in the movie for which we ought to drink…. drink.

And, Melissa’s own special rule, whenever Cameron took a drink (Cameron was drinking cream soda and not playing)… drink.

Melissa quickly became the drunkest person in the room.  It didn’t help that she might weigh 110 pounds, soaking wet, while wearing a lead apron and a flack jacket, and didn’t want us to think of her as a lightweight or a pussy.

We started to play a Lord of the Rings trivia game which Tasha brought, but drunk Melissa quickly took over the day and brought it to epic levels, with an outlook on the nature of Gollum, the heroism of Boromir, and the terror of the Ring of Power.  Not that her masterful drunken insight ended there, but our paying attention to the movies definitely did.  I’m not saying it devolved into us being drunken idiots, but there’s video that disproves that claim.

That’s right, Jack’s fantastic enough of a friend to bust out his phone and take video of his wife being… we’ll go with awesome.  You can’t see the video, but here’re some highlights:

Jack’s endowment is recorded for posterity (verbal, not visual.  As they say, Pics or it didn’t happen)…

Reviewing The Fifth Element brings her to tears (The Fifth Element is LOVE!)…

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles eat Pizza.  United States Mutant Ninja Turtles are fat, slow, and probably lazy.  But that’s ok…

Supermodels are bulimic, and their bones would break if you have sex with them…

Writing Harry Potter Fan-fic makes you an internet God (this contribution came from Tasha)…

Though he’s filming her drunken antics, Melissa wholeheartedly believes Jack only does things that are in her best interests…

Melissa assuring me that, though I am awesome (of course), I could never be as awesome as her husband, Jack. (LIES!)

And many, many more that those who weren’t there will just have to miss out on.  Sorry, but it only gets more awesome from there.  Suffice to say, nobody in that room who has ever told Melissa a secret has any secrets left.  You can’t help but all be friends after a day like that occurs.  If you become enemies, your new enemies would have too much dirt on you.

The First Peter Weekend

So a few weeks ago, I had what can only be considered a winning extended weekend. My friend Peter hopped on a flight and came out to watch Manchester United drub Seattle Sounders as part of their “Embarrass American Soccer Yearly” 2011 Tour. Then the next day, my friends Geoff, Brian, and ‘Derek and Amy’ came over for some hot boardgame action. Agricola and Bang! were played, and enjoyed. (Derek and Amy came at the same time Brian split, so we only had 4 for Agricola, to those paying attention and going “Agricola doesn’t play 6, noob!”)

Fun was had by all. Pete and I were supposed to hang out with Beer-sister Drina on Saturday, but she didn’t answer her phone, like a jerk. Beer-sister Rachel would never have done that to us!! Instead, we play more Agricola, and put up some staggering point totals. Soon, he may be a consistent threat to my German-farming.  Then on Sunday, Pete’s mom’s childhood friend Ed invited us over for delicious prime rib, salad, mashed potatoes…. I haven’t eaten that well in a coon’s age!

Then Monday came, and took my Peter from me. He had to go back to the Twin cities, but events did not stop there. Co-ordinating with Geoff and Cameron (another friend), we resolved to hold a biweekly board game night.

Same day, later in the day. Meet new friend Jack, who invites me to play Dungeons and Dragons with him the very next weekend! That’s a 5-day stretch that’s pretty damn sweet. But that ensuing weekend is a completely different story.

Good things always happen when Peter’s around.

Imperial Update, August 2011

And we’re back!

Life’s settling down, so look here for some more posts, maybe some other site news…

Obviously a new format for the site which is much nicer.

United States vs. England

Sure, I promised you all that I’d liveblog the World Cup.  Of course, then I went and got a job, and that put the big old kibosh on that whole idea.

But this is United States – England.  Since the 18th century, our conflicts have been few, but always great.  The Colonials have always had one message to the Brits – Bring that shit right the fuck on!

Today’s conflict will be on the Soccer fields, or Football pitch if you’re not an American, in which case I apologize, but Soccer it is, and Soccer it’ll stay.  England invented the game, but the United States, like Baird Hall (RIP) before it, Does.  Not.  Lose!

And, we’re at the National Anthems – God Save the Queen vs. the Star Spangled Banner?  USA!  USA!  USA!

U.S. Lineup – Howard, Cherundulo, Demerit, Onyewu, Bocanegra, Dempsey, Bradley, Clark, Donovan, Altidore, and Findley.

English lineup – later, I guess.  We’re off!

The U.S. is holding possession early, England hasn’t had the ball much at all.  Of course, right after I say this, the inexperience of Robbie Findley shows, and he’s called for Offsides.

NOOOOOO!  Steven Gerrard  Scores the opening goal in the 4th minute!  NOOOOOOOO!  America….  you can’t let that type of thing happen!  Europe has finally scored a goal, after France and Greece failed to do so in their games earlier.

Milner, England’s left-mid today just took OUT American captain Cherundolo, probably could have been justified with a Yellow there, the ball was clearly away, and he game in waist-high with his spikes.

Yeah, this is really hard to do in Soccer.  Experiment cancelled.

The Rebirth of Licatia, or, Why I Love the World Cup

Empire, as probably 98% of my readers are aware, my friend GrumpyPillow, the author of The King’s Crown, is off to defend his country in far-off Afghanistan as part of the new strategy the U.S. Government is using for the conflict which is renewing there.  Hopefully he’ll come back safe – he’s one of my oldest friends on the planet, and certainly is among my very best friends.  He’d damn well better come back safe, or risk Imperial displeasure!!!!

Anyway, he’s informed me that most of the sites he uses to entertain himself are blocked on U.S. Government servers, but NOT mine, and so he says I ought to write things to entertain him.  Which is pretty unfair, if you ask me.  I mean – how am I to replace many actual websites worth of content all by myself?

So I’m going to cheat a little.  As you no doubt recall, Empire, the Imperial sport of Licatia is Snowboardcross.  It’s fantastic to watch, sure, and gives us a unique distinction in the internet community.  Facts to the contrary unwelcome!  However…

I love watching Soccer.  I liked playing it when I was little, but young me decided I liked Football better long ago.  But adult me…  Don’t tell anyone, but I LOVE watching Soccer.  I’ve even called it Football, once or twice – okay, more than once or twice.  It’s because of the watching.  It’s tough to watch GREAT soccer as a kid, because they play at night in Europe, which is morning here.

It’s great watching it, though.  Even on entirely busted plays, there’s a sense of ‘almost’ that no other sport achieves.  Maybe diving plays in the outfield in baseball, but those are rarer by far than they are in Soccer, where even the routine seems tougher because, above all, the players can’t use their HANDS.  Headers just over the bar, volleys wide of the post – it’s all brutally dramatic.  They aren’t scoring, but it builds up anticipation so well.

And then there’s a goal – a breakthrough off a surprise quick free kick, or a long cross.  The perfectly placed ball in the backside upper ninety, or the header or volley which does find the back of the net.  It’s like the long deep ball in football, which the receiver hauls in while tapping his feet just in bounds – but every single goal has that feeling.

Of course, that I dominate at FIFA Video Games has nothing to do with why I love Soccer.  Okay – that’s probably a lie, but my Domination is indisputable.  Seriously – all Challengers welcome.  I promise to taunt you mercilessly as I pummel you for your insolence.

All that said, I’ve pleased to announce that I will Live-Blog the World Cup, as much as I possibly can.  This will involve me waking up very early, but that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.  For you.  You’re welcome.

Okay Maybe I Mispoke…

It seems I might have misspoke two posts and a month when I said the reason I didn’t post more often wasn’t because I didn’t love you.  It could be that, potentially, after all.  That said, it’s quite amazing how, in any job search, you can put a whole bunch of effort into finding a job, and be rewarded with absolutely nothing back.

Over the past month, contrary to some less than complementary opinions of me, I’ve applied for at least two jobs every day – from “Yeah!  I would totally love that job!” to “I may be able to think of worse things than this job, but not many.”  I read job-hunting books and job-hunting articles tossed at me, which said to diversify my search , and cold-send resumes to companies I was interested in, and did that.  Grand results – one single interview – and today, I got a rejection email for that job.  Indeed, that’s the only job which has even bothered sending any sort of response beyond an automated ‘we received your application and resume’ letter.  All those books talk about how the main danger is giving up – well, months like this one have been running back to back now since I started seriously looking for jobs in November.

Yet, I can’t give up – I don’t understand how that’s viewed as a danger in these books.  How can someone decide – ‘Well, I guess I don’t need money.’?

Late Night Musings of the Emperor

For the second straight week, I played the Wednesday night Dad while the Queen-Mother and my Stepfather took a road trip for some us-time.  This time, they masterfully paired it with a visit to Portland, where another of Stepfather’s sisters is visiting his sister who lives there.

Anyway, enough about them.  They’re boring.  I’m also not going to get into MYB’s meltdown over doing the dishes.  For those of you who know the family, that’s also old news, especially when your Emperor gets put in Parent Position.  It’s always one of them – sometimes it’s OYB, sometimes MYB, usually YYB.  I’m used to it.  If this is what having children is like, I’ll leave you to it, Empire.  Have gaggles of these little shitheads.

So I waited for their EPB (Earliest Possible Bedtime), and sent ‘em off to the lands of dreaming, and then fired up Gran Torino to wind down.  Clint Eastwood may be old as hell, but this movie is fantastic.  Infinite rewatchability.  Spellcheck tells me that’s not a word, but fuck them – it’s the perfect way to describe the phenomenon.  Gran Torino finished, and I still felt like watching a movie, so I put it in the Hangover, which both had me laughing out loud all by myself in a quiet house and put me in the state of mind where you’re tired, but cannot fall asleep.  Every adult, I’m sure, is familiar with this feeling – perhaps especially those with children, but I’ve no idea..  So I made a pot of coffee, and put in Up in the Air, starring George Clooney.  Quote of the movie so far – “Life can underwhelm you that way.”

So that’s what I did today.  In checklist form:

1.  Brainstormed potential fun business, this time with mother?  Check.

2.  Pissed off YYB?  Check.  (Made him read)

3.  Pissed off MYB?  Check!  (Made him do the dishes)

4.  Pissed off OYB?  Half-Check!  (Let him cheat his grounding a little, and go play in the park/woods/marsh next door with his brother and friends, then made him do his chores and read…  Kind of a wash, though he didn’t seem all that upset.)

5.  Watched American Idol.  Check.  Sad to see Didi’s hotness leave.  Now there’s only ugly girls and a 16 year old left.

6.  Watched Gran Torino, The Hangover, and Up in the Air.  Check.

What a day, right?  Considering it’s a Wednesday, I can’t possibly call it a success.  A successful Wednesday in the adult world ought to mean you do some work, come home and unwind in either a hobby, some television, or a movie and are in bed by 11, at the latest.  If I’m wrong, please tell me, but I’m pretty certain I’m right.  Yet here I sit, quarter to 5 in the morning, wide awake.

By no means were these scant words my only thoughts of the night – they were the ones easiest to transcribe, perhaps, or the ones I got down before the caffeine raced them into the far reaches of my subconscious.  At this point, I wonder how I ever get anything written down at all – my thoughts race like Seabiscuit, mutated by the dark of night until they become thoughts we don’t have words for, anymore.

Thought of the Day – All-nighters are terribly spent if you spend them all alone.  Play video games, at the very least.  Ones with other people, where you can speak – hell, type!  Darkness is terrible for a human being.  There’s a reason the state of nature failed, and it’s more than personal security, or the first caveman’s desire to not have his shit taken by the smarter, quicker, or stronger caveman – it’s the torment of nighttime on a human soul.  It’s why every insomniac I know is an unhappy person, and the basis of ‘Early to bed, and Early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.’

Delusions of Grandeur

Hello Empire.  Long time no see.  No it isn’t because I love you any less, it’s mostly because I’ve been busy.

Okay, that was also a lie, unless you count reading old fantasy books (Glen Cook’s The Black Company), job-hunting books (Richard N. Bolles’ The Job-Hunter’s Survival Guide), and nerdy smart-man books (Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner’s Super Freakonomics: Global Cooling, Patriotic Prostitutes and Why Suicide Bombers Should Buy Life Insurance), while collecting a bevy of ‘Thanks, but no thanks’ notes from a variety of companies.  To make matters worse, I’ve even been too lazy to review said read books for the Big Bad Blogger’s Bookclub, the link to which you can find with a careful scanning of the ‘Link’s section to the right.

That said, I just started imagining what it might be if this blog actually had readers.  My inbox would’ve been full of emails which might say, “Oh Imperial One, where have you been?  I miss your candor and supreme wit more with every day you are absent!”, or perhaps, “Dude – Why aren’t you writing stories to entertain me?  I’m bored as shit!”, or at least “Alex.  Dude.  Write something.  Or make Amy or Jourdan write something for you; at least they think before they type.  I mean, sheesh.”  That’s right, readers of my blog would definitely use semi-colons in emails to me.  And, ideally, spell words correctly and everything.

That said, I’ve missed a host of opportunities to blog about fascinating subjects: March Madness;  Obama and the Democratic Party passing an idealistic Health Care Bill despite objections by the GOP and the ensuing Law Suit against the Federal Government by several states over fears they’ll have to bear the brunt of the cost without much Federal Support and the provision which allows for employed Americans to be fined if they don’t purchase Health Insurance.

So let’s take a look at what’s actually in the bill.  Per CBS.

The only part which seems even remotely scary is the portion known as the “Individual Mandate.”  In 2014, every American will be required to purchase health care or pay a 695 dollar fine.  Given that the government is making exceptions for those who really can’t afford it, this doesn’t seem excessive, until you look at the Constitution of the United States, which outlines Congress’ responsibility to regulate interstate Commerce.  However, if you choose to not buy health insurance, you’re choosing not to engage in Commerce, which is a free choice and can’t be held against you.  If you choose to play with the no-insurance fire, you earn what comes to you.  The government shouldn’t be able to fine you.

Including that clause will get this bill overturned by any Supreme Court, ‘liberal’, ‘conservative’, ‘neutral’, ‘radical’, ‘revisionist’ – pick any adjective you choose.  Advocates of Health Care need to begin re-writing this bill now, instead of being surprised as the carpet is yanked out from under them just as the current system gets up and running.

Obvious poor decisions in bill language is the type of thing that costs you the support of your constituency, particularly when it’s a poor decision in theory, as well.  Fining someone for not purchasing something which is itself a luxury – no matter how common a luxury it may be – is simple stupidity.

Heavily taxing suntanning and increasing taxes on investment income over 200k for individuals and 250k for families is something only the rich and foolish would object to.  In the interests of cutting into the deficit, this would’ve been done anyway.  This bill doesn’t cut jobs, as Republicans are yelling and screaming in the interest of their campaign contributors, but will create more government bureaucracy jobs to manage the expansion of Medicaid.

Worries over the increased costs to businesses may be bad for their profit margin, but his is better long term for their employees.  The government isn’t responsible for protecting business’ profit line, it’s responsible for protecting the people’s best interest.  Plain and simple.  If a business can’t turn profits while protecting its’ employees, then it needs to rethink its business model.  Healthy employees will be more productive and miss less work than uninsured workers who can’t get the medical service they need.  Plain and simple.

The Olympics Are Over. Licatia Was NOT Invited.

So, Winter Olympics 2010  in Vancouver, Canada are over.  The U.S. won the medal count, while Canada set a record for most Gold Medals.  Notice, though, they were intimidated and failed, once again, to invite the Licatians.

We’ll get ‘em next time, Empire.

The Empire Chooses a National Sport

Hello, Subjects.  Did you miss my benevolent gaze?

I’ll understand if you did.  It’s quite the gaze.  Big, brown doe eyes and all of that.  “How you doin’?”

Anyways, I’ve been sitting here, watching the Not-Quite-So-Special Olympics – what most of the rest of you would refer to as the Winter Olympics.  And I’ve noticed a few things – the Dutchies and South Koreans love Speed Skating.  Canadians love Hockey (But suck at it – Go America!  FUCK YEAH!).  And Nobody at all likes some bizarre bumblefuckery known as ‘Curling’?  That has nothing curled, and has little to no actual actions to justify ending the verb in ‘-ing.’

Then there’s Alpine Skiing, and Freestyle skiing – both of which are awesome.  And Snowboarding – also awesome.  Yet not quite worthy of our excellent empire.

No.  We’re taking this shit to 11.  We’re combining racing and the awesomeness of skiing and snowboarding.

Our Imperial Sport is henceforth Snowboardcross.  Watch and delight!  (Though, you know… all the medals have been awarded in it.  So watch it later.  Huzzah!)