Hope everyone had a nice weekend and those of you who base your moral systems around zombie-like reincarnation had a wonderful Easter. Personally, I'll buy even the most implausible fairy tale if it results in my mother making such a delicious roast lamb with sweet potatoes. Mmmm... now that's good saviour.
Speaking of zombies, I killed a few with my broadsword this weekend. That's right - I once again nerded it up big time. My friends Madden, Hogg, Garecrow and I revisited our teen years with a rousing afternoon of Dungeons and Dragons. In the words of Nelson Muntz, I feel like punching myself.
Even though most of the other fellas are married and have children at this stage, a sporting session of Dungeons and Dragons can act like a sort of emotional time machine. To my knowledge, there's nothing that makes me feel more like a 15-year old pale, friendless virgin than sitting around a table with 3 other guys, consuming my weight in greasy junkfood and casting mind-control spells on imaginary hobgoblins and then making them kiss each other (for the record, one of the goblins was kind of into it). Weirdly enough, it's an oddly comforting feeling these days.
For a long time, I fought my inner nerd. I dressed him up in the hippest of platform shoes and parachute pants. Admit it - I had you all fooled. You just assumed I was the cat's meow in high school, didn't you? Nope - it turns out that the jocks on the football team stuffed the ballot so that I won Homecoming Queen, just so they could pour pig's blood all over my brand new yellow meringue-colored dress. My mother made that dress! It's not my fault that I'm just a poor Italian kid from Reseda. God, those guys were such assholes! I don't regret that revenge scheme where I spiked their keg with Rohypnol and then took pictures of them with their dicks taped to each other's foreheads.
The point is this: I have learned to love my inner nerd. He's not such a bad guy, really. Sure, he could have spent a little more time running around outside and a little less time memorizing the lineage of the WWF Intercontinental Title. But what if terrorists hold a gun to your loved one's head and need to know who beat the Ultimate Warrior for the Intercontinental Title after WrestleMania 6? Who are you going to call then?
It's a trick question, you fool! Warrior won the World Title from Hulk Hogan at WrestleMania 6 and so President Jack Tunney vacated the Intercontinental Title. You probably would have answered "Mr. Perfect" because he won the tournament for the vacated title. But you'd only be half-right. Do you think the terrorists would have accepted a half-right answer? I don't think so! If you ask me, they'd have to be pretty forgiving terrorists to let that one go. Sorry. Bam! Dead loved one.
All because you called me a nerd. I hope you enjoyed your comeuppance, you stupid forehead-dicked jocks from the football team.
Speaking of zombies, I killed a few with my broadsword this weekend. That's right - I once again nerded it up big time. My friends Madden, Hogg, Garecrow and I revisited our teen years with a rousing afternoon of Dungeons and Dragons. In the words of Nelson Muntz, I feel like punching myself.
Even though most of the other fellas are married and have children at this stage, a sporting session of Dungeons and Dragons can act like a sort of emotional time machine. To my knowledge, there's nothing that makes me feel more like a 15-year old pale, friendless virgin than sitting around a table with 3 other guys, consuming my weight in greasy junkfood and casting mind-control spells on imaginary hobgoblins and then making them kiss each other (for the record, one of the goblins was kind of into it). Weirdly enough, it's an oddly comforting feeling these days.
For a long time, I fought my inner nerd. I dressed him up in the hippest of platform shoes and parachute pants. Admit it - I had you all fooled. You just assumed I was the cat's meow in high school, didn't you? Nope - it turns out that the jocks on the football team stuffed the ballot so that I won Homecoming Queen, just so they could pour pig's blood all over my brand new yellow meringue-colored dress. My mother made that dress! It's not my fault that I'm just a poor Italian kid from Reseda. God, those guys were such assholes! I don't regret that revenge scheme where I spiked their keg with Rohypnol and then took pictures of them with their dicks taped to each other's foreheads.
The point is this: I have learned to love my inner nerd. He's not such a bad guy, really. Sure, he could have spent a little more time running around outside and a little less time memorizing the lineage of the WWF Intercontinental Title. But what if terrorists hold a gun to your loved one's head and need to know who beat the Ultimate Warrior for the Intercontinental Title after WrestleMania 6? Who are you going to call then?
It's a trick question, you fool! Warrior won the World Title from Hulk Hogan at WrestleMania 6 and so President Jack Tunney vacated the Intercontinental Title. You probably would have answered "Mr. Perfect" because he won the tournament for the vacated title. But you'd only be half-right. Do you think the terrorists would have accepted a half-right answer? I don't think so! If you ask me, they'd have to be pretty forgiving terrorists to let that one go. Sorry. Bam! Dead loved one.
All because you called me a nerd. I hope you enjoyed your comeuppance, you stupid forehead-dicked jocks from the football team.
6 Comments:
those of you who base your moral systems around zombie-like reincarnation
I lol'd.
I kid the Christians. Some of my best friends are zombies.
those of you who base your moral systems around zombie-like reincarnation
Not to be a Christian bitch or anything, but I'm amused by the inclusion of a dig on ANYONE ELSE ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH in a post about 30 year olds playing Dungeons and Dragons.
Vin, I'd gladly accept your criticism if I didn't have video of you making love to a putter.
It wasn't sex. It was love.
That putter has since been replaced by a succession of younger, sexier, and more expensive putters.
Does that help?
Oh my God I totally guessed Mr. Perfect. Oddly depressing, even though I was half-wrong.
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