Bannable Offenses

And...

2010-12-18T07:21:00.000-08:00

And we're back.

I don't suppose you'd believe I was having router issues this entire time?

No?

Dammit.

Susan has been yelling (literally YELLING) at me to do an update and let you guys know how everything is going. I have been putting this off because I've:

a) been waiting for something bad to happen

b) trying to sleep in the few minutes when I'm not working or changing diapers or cleaning up puke or feeding the baby or bathing the baby or rocking the baby or telling the baby to stop crying or walking around at 4 am with the baby in my arms because she feels like screaming instead of sleeping and Susan is making comments about murdering one or both of us if she can't get an hour's sleep

On an unrelated note: Parenting is AWESOME!

No, everything is going great here. Our little girl is super healthy and seems no worse for wear. The only thing was she was really small and we're taking care of that with breast milk and whatever bacon grease I can slip into a bottle before Susan notices.

Seriously, when that kid is old enough to eat solid food, she is eating at McDonald's every freaking day. I am going to cram chicken nuggets down her little throat until she's spherical.

If you ever have the opportunity to hold a 2 pound human being, I suggest you give it a shot. It will give you a new and profound respect for life.

It will also FREAK YOU THE F__K OUT.

Do you know what a bradycardia is? I shouldn't, but I do.

See, preemie babies have this funny habit of letting their hearts stop beating for no good goddamned reason. Seriously, she'd just be lying there looking around and then her heart would stop.

In case you failed biology: that is not good. Your heart stopping is counterproductive to being alive.

When you have a baby girl who weighs about as much as a bottle of pepsi and who tends to die at random intervals, it kind of messes you up a bit.

And I was already messed up before this whole thing started.

But she's out of the hospital and back home with us. The bradys have stopped and she's getting more and more like a people every day.

Soon, she will be ready to begin training in our ways. I've already made excellent progress in turning my older daughter into a tremendous geek. Her sister will follow her training just in case I ever have to lop the older one's hand off and throw her down a huge vent shaft in Cloud City or something.

You want to have a back up, amirite?

Everything is going great here. I haven't slept in weeks and I think I'm starting to hallucinate, but at least all of my girls are doing okay.

I'd also like to say a special thanks to everyone who made donations or sent messages in my absence. The notes really brightened my day and I made sure to spend donations on anything you guys asked. If the note said "buy some diapers", I bought some diapers. If the note said "buy yourself some Jack Daniel's", I bought myself some Jack Daniel's.

I love the person who wrote that by the way. The Jack Daniel's comes in handy right after you change a diaper.

I'm amazed at how awesome you guys are. Every time I read stories about how terrible internet people are, I feel like reaching through my monitor and slapping the writer in the face.

They just haven't met all of the great people on the internet.

They haven't met our people.

Thank you guys for everything.

Dun Dun Dunnnnn...

2010-10-06T17:58:00.000-07:00

Hell of a cliffhanger, right?

When last we left our plucky hero, his wife had just unexpectedly decided to have a person fall out of her months in advance. Said person was incredibly tiny and incredibly sick.

What could have happened?

Okay, I know it was a dick move not to post some news sooner. From a lot of your messages and the few notes attached to donations, I know you guys are really worried about my little girl.

In my defense, given the circumstances, I think I have a little right to be a dick.

Also, I was a dick beforehand, so this is just the way I roll.

To answer all of your questions, she is doing great. She's healthy and happy and gaining weight.

That last part is a big freaking deal. When she was born, she weighed just under a kilo. And then she started losing weight.

Yeah.

They can tell you that shit is perfectly normal in babies, but I'm not retarded. I know how to do math and not very much minus anything is even freaking less.

Also, in case this happens to anyone else, NICU wards are the scariest freaking places on Earth. Ever. I would gladly run through Silent Hill in a gold thong before I'd come back to this place.

The other night, I was telling Susan that the NICU wasn't so bad. Just then, the doors burst open and they wheeled in a set of twins covered in blood and wrapped in plastic wrap.

Kind of hard to finish a thought after that, let me tell you.

Everything is going well, though. Susan is officially on maternity leave (read: Mommy gets a free vacation and I still have to go to work like a sucker), so she spends pretty much all of her time at the hospital. When she's not taking care of our girl, she's hooked up to various milking apparatuses to provide food for our girl.

This, of course, leaves me to take care of our other daughter.

By myself.

No, I didn't think that was a good idea either.

My daughter now listens to people talk and then says "Cool story, bro."

I've ruined her.

All in all, it's been an insane five weeks around here.

Holy shit. It's only been five weeks...

This is probably going to kill me.

Time Flies...

2010-09-03T19:57:00.001-07:00

So, if you're reading this, you're probably familiar with everything that has been going on since Susan got pregnant.

I am writing this to inform you of the birth of our baby daughter.

Now, some of you are probably confused. Some of you are no doubt reading back through the archives for when I announced that Susan was pregnant.

I'll wait.

...

Okay. NOW, some of you are figuring out that that was not nine months ago.

I'll wait again. There's math involved.

Stupid math.

...

Alright. Are we all up to speed?

Good.

Tuesday, my lovely and very pregnant wife Susan decided to go on a little trip with a couple of her friends. Their names are not important as I am having them killed at my earliest convenience.

They went to a bed and breakfast more than two hours away. At the time, this did not seem like a bad idea since Susan was still 3 months from her expected due date.

It did seem like a bad idea Wednesday morning when her water broke.

Do you know that if your phone rings at 7 am, it is NEVER good news. Seriously. Just ignore it.

Our daughter was born while I was driving well in excess of any posted speed limits and cursing Susan's friends furiously.

I think I may have actually invented new swear words.

If someone calls you a Dongtanker, that means some serious shit, right there.

For those of you who may not have the greatest math skills (or reading ability as I just explained it), she was born 12 weeks early.

Yes, 12 weeks.

Imagine my surprise.

And because I'm sure we have a few "pics or it didn't happen" people in the crowd, I have decided to post a picture of her.

You may not want to keep scrolling if you're squeamish.

I warned you.

That is her shortly after birth, my darling baby girl.

I don't have any more recent photos though, as she had to be evaced to the nearest children's hospital for specialized treatment.

You know things are going just great when they airlift your baby daughter to an undisclosed location.

I'm pleased to say that she is doing amazingly though. For a baby born at 28 weeks, she is kicking some serious ass. She's already off the ventilator and is breathing on her own.

I know that doesn't sound amazing. You're breathing on your own right now and nobody is handing you a freaking medal, right?

Amirite?

Yeah, well, with babies like this, it's kind of a big deal. Let me have my little victories.

Get it?

Little?

I'm making puns.

Seriously, guys, things are okay. She is really doing well and all of the doctors are very hopeful. Susan and I will be heading to the children's hospital as soon as she's well enough to travel.

I just wanted to share this with you because you are my people.

Wait... Nope, not dead yet.

2010-08-15T17:29:00.000-07:00

I'd like to thank everyone for the messages they sent. I will try to answer as many of your questions as possible.

No, I'm not dead. Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.

I've been sick, but that's mostly just the random illnesses that my daughter (ie. The Umbrella Corporation) brings home with her.

Yes, both baby and baby mama are doing fine. We've had a few more scares since my last post, but my offspring are incredibly resilient.

No, I never noticed that I start to drift away from writing when Susan is pregnant. It wasn't until someone pointed it out that I noticed that the last time I took a break was when we were having our first child.

I think it comes down to having such a limited number of hours in a day. 24 isn't a big number. Between work, caring for my daughter, taking care of a pregnant (so very, very pregnant) wife, and maintaining my oh so many characters, I just don't have the energy to write a lot.

Yes, I'm still working on the book. Actually, I'm working on book 7 or 8 now. It's hard to keep track.

I just end up hating each story before I get done. It sounds so awesome in my head and then I write it down and it sounds retarded.

A couple of times I've caught myself writing books that have already been written.

I started writing a story about an office worker that kills everyone around him, but then somebody glanced over my shoulder and I had to go see a psychologist.

Related note: Apparently, everything is my mother's fault. If I have banned you or sent you an explosive device, you may want to take it up with her.

Ironically, if I now shoot everyone in my office, I have an excuse.

Random Thought

2010-06-22T19:06:00.001-07:00

Have you ever seen those shirts that say "No Blood For Oil"?

After the robot apocalypse, those are going to be terribly ironic.

ZOMG!

2010-06-17T08:24:00.000-07:00

Holy shit! Have you guys heard that the new Xbox 360 Kinect is on sale NOW?!

Seriously. You can go right to your nearest Walmart and buy one. Motion control, a new menu system, new games.

Did you see that menu? All your games and programs lined up in convenient little squares. No more flipping through screens. You just wave your hand and select whichever program you want to run.

And the whole thing only costs like $199.

Now, you're probably wondering why you haven't heard this anywhere else. Everyone else is saying that it comes out in November, right?

Not right.

I happen to know the secret password you have to say to get one of these fabulous devices.

And because you're good people, I'm going to share it with you.

If anyone else is in the room, just shut off your monitor and tell them you're looking at hardcore pornography until they leave.

They gone?

Okay, here's what you have to say:

"Excuse me. I'd like to buy a Wii please."

I've heard this always works for the new Playstation Move.

Then you just pay your money and head on home. Hook that baby up and you'll be the envy of everyone else on your block.

Assuming you live on the one block in the world where everyone doesn't already own a Wii.

I mean, do these companies seriously think we're this retarded?

Yes. Yes, they do.

This is just a blatant, bullshit attempt to copy the Wii. They're not even being subtle about it. They might as well have just bought a bunch of Wiis and put stickers over the name.

Their first big games are Kinect Sports and Kinect Bowling.

They're condescending. They are assuming we are so literally retarded that we will buy absolutely anything if they slap a shiny new name on it.

But we're not that retarded are we?

Yes. Yes, we are.

We are going to line up for days to buy that thing. People are going to miss mortgage payments just to get it.

Because we are retarded.

This isn't even subtle. They're kicking us in the face while laughing at us and we're paying good damned money for it.

AND they're acting like this is creative and original in the process.

I'd pay good money if they just admitted it.

Tell us they're screwing us. Just out and say it already.

Microsoft: We're don't make the Wii, but we like money, so yeah, here's a Wii dammit.

That's all I want. Just cut the shit and tell us the truth for once. Don't try and feed us a line about how you're the future of gaming.

You're the past.

Literally.

You actually made fun of this same idea in the past.

And now, you are that idea.

Dammit, some days I feel like I'm the only sane person left on the planet.

That's a scary thought.

One Step Forward...

2010-06-14T04:52:00.001-07:00

It wouldn't be a lie to say that I spend a fair amount of my time defending gamers.

Given the generally negative stereotypes applied to my people, I find myself constantly quoting statistics and figures about how gaming culture has grown over time and entered the mainstream. We are no longer those basement dwelling social outcasts that we were long thought to be.

Have you seen a console launch lately? Have you seen droves and droves of people ready to gut their fellow man just to be the first person to call someone a &%@ing Noob on a brand new system?

That shit is mainstream, son.

We are legion. We are many.

Yet despite this new acceptance of our culture, the general population smirks at us, their self-righteous smile visible above their American Eagle popped collar.

For some reason I can't understand, it is socially more acceptable to play extreme frisbee or beer pong than it is to play some Halo.

Seriously.

Now, this post is not another defense of my people. Since you are reading this, you're probably one of my people, so I'd be preaching to the converted.

No, this post is about WHY they think that about us.

It has nothing to do with the games or the systems. It has nothing to do with news stories or media depictions.

It has nothing to do with you.

It's this guy.

Yup, that guy is the exact reason why everyone in the entire world looks down on gamers.

He is the very essence of their argument. He is the embodiment of everything they laugh at when they hear the word "gamer".

This man... This man is why we suffer. This man is the reason that girls look at you funny when you tell them you play video games.

Yes, you know what look I mean. That first time you were on a date with a girl you liked. You're laughing and having fun and she asked what you like to do. You said video games. Then, you watched as her face started to curl into a look of disgust. You might have just told her you molest baby kittens for the sheer revulsion you saw in her eyes.

Yeah, totally that guy's fault.

And there's nothing you can do. No amount of Professional Gaming Leagues or celebrity endorsements will stop the damage he has caused our culture.

He weeps for his WoW account.

I weep for our people.

Now... Where Were We?

2010-06-03T19:15:00.000-07:00

Okay, apparently, I was getting ready to do a whole thing about WoW and private servers and shit.

Let's roll with that. Why the hell not?

Because I absolutely hate myself, I made myself a list of shit I had to do before I could quit playing WoW. This list was formulated out of:

a) self-loathing
b) a desire to not leave anything WoW fans could possibly bitch about
c) alcohol
d) alcohol
e) Wild Berry Skittles
f) alcohol

This list was freaking exhaustive. I don't even put as much freaking work into taking care of my own offspring as I put into that freaking list.

I had to level a Paladin to 80.

Yeah. A paladin.

Then, I had to level a Hunter to 80.

A female Hunter.

So, I covered two completely different job classes and two completely different genders. One was a hybrid class that included a dps spec, a tank spec, and a healer spec.

I tried them all.

I raised several professions and did dailies and all of that crap.

Yes, even the stupid freaking jewelcrafting dailies where you had to go kill an animal to get a tiny piece of bone or ivory or whatever to make something for the owner of the jewelry store who is apparently too freaking busy giving retarded daily quests to actually go out and get his own damned shit.

I farmed freaking titanium for crying out loud.

I did every raid that could possibly be done on my server. I killed dragons and... Other dragons... Blue ones... And... Some guys in Ulduar...

There was a lot of guys in there.

And another dragon.

And everybody dropped like seventeen pieces of loot. You spent ten minutes killing a boss and then ten minutes rolling for everything.

And lord help you if you roll for the wrong item. They'll slice your freaking throat for that.

I did everything that anyone could possibly suggest would make this game SOMEHOW better than FFXI.

I camped the Time-Lost Proto Drake. And killed it.

Yes, I got a giant, prehistoric drake that I could ride around on. I circled over a desolate, icy mountain range for days waiting to find it and when I finally did, it knocked me off my mount and I fell a bajillion feet to my death. I hopped back up and went and kicked it's ass.

You know what?

Still not more fun than FFXI.

Don't get me wrong. It was okay.

I might even upgrade it to pretty good if I didn't have to force myself to play it practically at gunpoint.

But everything was just... Wrong. Nothing seemed to have any real life or substance to it.

When I'm in Vana'diel, I FEEL like I'm in Vana'diel. I almost feel the grass under my feet as I run through a field. I can feel the cobblestones under my feet as I walk through San d'Oria.

In Azeroth... Well, everything was just there.

None of the monsters seemed realistic. Neither did the landscape.

Hell, even my character looked like a poorly drawn cartoon.

And seriously... Can we just call the shoulder armor experiment a failure and move on? There were a couple of times that I saw shoulder gear that was actually larger than chest armor.

That shit ain't right.

I'm starting to wonder if there maybe isn't a rogue modeler over at Blizzard with freakish, mutant shoulders.

Maybe I'm just a sucker for textures, but FFXI just seems more real to me.

The whole world seems like it's right there, right in front of you. The rocks, the sand, the grass, all just feel so real, like it was an actual world you're looking into.

But not a real world.

My doctor told me I'm not allowed to say that any more.

Thank You

2010-06-02T09:12:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to thank everyone who sent their support for us. It was all really appreciated.

And those of you who sent small donations and apologized for not being able to send more, you needn't be so silly. We appreciated everything you guys sent.

Honestly, anytime I hear someone say that gamers are a bunch of angry, impulsive, violent psychopaths, it makes me want to reach out and punch them in the trachea and then burn down their house.

You guys are all right.

So...

2010-05-31T07:59:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning and looked in the mirror. As I gazed at my reflection, I realized that the face looking back at me wasn't my own.

That man in the mirror couldn't have been me. His face was haggard and drawn. Deep shadows nested beneath his weary, tired eyes. The man, himself, seemed but a shadow, an afterimage of a human being.

It' couldn't... Couldn't have been me.

This is my poetic way of telling you that this has been a REALLY crappy month and, to top it off, I look like shit.

As I mentioned before my "brief" sojourn, Susan, my lovely wife, is pregnant.

Do you know what's really freaking scary? Blood.

Not my blood. No, sir. That shit I'm used to. I fall down and cut myself and blood comes out.

That's the way of things.

I can't even begin to tell you the number of times I've woken up covered in blood without having to kill you when I was finished.

It's a vicious cycle, really.

No, I'm talking about blood coming out of my pregnant wife.

Yeah.

You might think you're tough. You might think that there is very little left in the world that can phase you.

Not so much.

The exact second your pregnant wife starts bleeding, you will be reduced to a pathetic child, a senseless thing capable only of wringing your fists at the sky.

Shortly after my last post, Susan saw a little bit of blood.

Hospital. Doctor. Ultrasound. Everything okay.

Good.

Two weeks later, Susan saw a lot of blood.

Hospital. Doctor. Ultrasound. Everything okay.

Good.

One week after that, Susan saw A LOT of blood.

Hospital. Doctor. Ultrasound. Everything okay.

Good.

Oh... And I had a nervous breakdown every time.

Good.

I have spent the past month trying to prepare my wife (and myself) for terrible, horrible news. Luckily, that news never, ever came, but it's effects were still severe.

Sleep was a luxury. I played more games than even I thought was healthy because I couldn't sleep unless I was exhausted.

I had to sell a lot of my games to cover medical bills. That shit ain't cheap, but apparently telling your wife that we can find out for free in 7-8 months doesn't go over as well as one might expect.

There may or may not have been groin punching.

Between all of the bills and then the lost work while we dealt with the problems, things have been pretty bad around here.

All in all, this has been a really bad month.

I know I haven't updated and I do apologize for that. There have been a lot of interesting things going on, but it's kind of hard to be funny when you're just waiting for the sword to drop.

Honestly, I was quite certain that my next post here would have been explaining how we had lost the baby.

I'm happy to say that won't be happening. Susan had another appointment this morning and everything is looking good. We should, theoretically, be out of the woods for a while.

Theoretically.

Bear with me while I get back into the swing of things. I have many funny things to write about and many more not funny things that I will write about anyway.

And you'll like it dammit.

My Daughter Wrote This

2010-04-19T11:58:00.000-07:00

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,hoo

No

2010-04-19T11:37:00.001-07:00

No, I am not spending all of my time playing the Beta for an awesome new video game.

No, this game is not the most awesome thing in the entire universe, so much so that I am seriously thinking about giving up sleep entirely just so I don't have to miss anything.

No, I have not given up playing other games or even showering or the most basic of body maintenance.

No, I do not have an epic Beta Beard.

I have no idea where you could have gotten these ideas you silly, silly people.

I've been... Busy.

Very, very busy.

With... Stuff.

If I hadn't been so busy playing, I'd probably have come up with a better story. As it is, I'm working from some jot notes scrawled on a used KFC napkin.

The notes read:

Busy

Stuff

Yeah, I'm loving this game so much that I can't even form coherent thoughts.

Or lies.

That's how you know a game is good. Forgetting about your school or work or those other people who live in your house and call you Dad or Husband or Hey, I'm Talking To You or If You Don't Listen, I'm leaving You... That's just normal gaming.

No, if a game is so good that you can't even construct adequate lies, then you know it's good.

But I'm not allowed to talk about it. I can't even tell you the name of the Final Fantasy XIV I'm playing.

I'll give you a minute to crack that code, Robert Langdon.

Now, if I can only give up my body's pathetic needs for food and oxygen, I can devote my entire being to playing.

Kind of like Lawnmower Man, but not a terrible movie.

Can we get science on this already? What the hell are we paying you guys for anyway?

Oh, oh. You cloned a sheep. You made a sheep that looks like another sheep.

Bra-freaking-vo.

Let's get on this virtual reality shit already. We've been talking about this for a bajillion years now. I think it's time we made some progress on it already.

Man, why the hell do I have to do everything?

Where were we?

2010-04-09T12:13:00.000-07:00

Oh, yeah... Private servers and Wow and shit.

Gotcha.

Let's start with the whole private server thing. Pretty much since I started the blog, people have been sending me e-mails about the dreaded private servers.

Well, that and asking for nude pics of Susan.

Also, spam for male enhancement and watches.

My inbox is a comedy cavalcade, people.

I never really put a lot of time into the whole private server thing. It's just one of those things that we all know about, but nobody really cares about.

The basic premise is that you get to play a game for free on a server run by a private individual. This system has certain pros:

a) it's free

b) it doesn't cost anything

c) what else do you need, you cheap bastard?

d) did I mention it's free?

e) oh, they might make the game easier or give you free armor or something

That's about it. Seems really great, right?

Right?

Not so much.

I mean, I was totally on board with the whole playing a game that costs money for free thing. I like free. I enjoy free. It really seemed like a great idea.

Unfortunately, private servers are an idea that seem great in theory.

Like communism.

Or women's rights.

Oh, I'm going to get some e-mails for that one. My inbox is going to be even funnier than usual.

See, private servers are run by an individual with no vested interest in providing you a service. They are doing it simply for the joy of helping others.

... You can imagine how well that might work.

Let me explain this to you. I would not want to live in a town with a volunteer fire department. I would not want to be trapped inside my house, flames engulfing everything I own, with a bunch of people outside who aren't getting paid.

Fireman1>> Okay, guys. We're going in!
Fireman2>> Umm... Really?
Fireman2>> We're going in there?
Fireman1>> Of course we are.
Fireman2>> Are you crazy?
Fireman2>> That place is on fire!
Fireman1>> People are trapped in there.
Fireman2>> Yeah... See, I thought we could stay out here.
Fireman2>> Kind of see how the situation unfolds.
Fireman1>> How it unfolds?!
Fireman1>> It's going to unfold with that family burning to death.
Fireman2>> True... True.
Fireman2>> That could happen.
Fireman2>> Or... OR it could go out on its own.
Fireman1>> It's not going to go out on its own!
Fireman1>> We need to help them!
Fireman2>> Yeah...
Fireman2>> I've kind of got this Softball game tomorrow...
Fireman1>> What the hell is the matter with you?
Fireman3>> Hey, guys.
Fireman3>> What's going on?
Fireman1>> We have to get in there!
Fireman3>> Are you crazy?
Fireman3>> That place is on fire!

I'm sure they're nice guys. I'm sure they WANT to help. But when I'm minutes away from burning to death, I want to know that the people in charge of saving my ass are being well paid.

With a private server, those same people in charge of saving your ass have the very real option of not giving a shit.

That's bad.

As much as I talk about terrorizing the general populace of Vana'diel, I do occasionally help people. And the people all around me every day, freaking love helping players. They earn their paycheck.

Paycheck.

If we weren't getting paid, I really don't think we'd all get together every day and just help people out of the goodness of our hearts.

Now, don't get me wrong. Most of the guys running private servers are cool. They're providing a great service to people who don't actually want to pay for the official service.

But this is a server they are running as a hobby. Running someone else's game as a hobby.

Shit is bound to go wrong.

Here's your average experience on a private server:

Log in.
Select character.
Wait...
Wait...
Wait...
Okay, you're in the world.
Talk to an NPC.
Half of the NPCs don't work.
Lag.
Umm... Start a quest.
Most of the quests are bugged.
Lag.
Join a party/raid/whatever.
There are three tanks on the whole server and they're all busy.
Crap.
Wait...
Wait...
Oh, we got a tank. Now, we just...
Shit, the healer had to go.
Only two of those on the server.
Wait...
Alright. Got a healer.
Lag.
Start your event/dungeon/instance/whatever.
LAG.
Bosses aren't properly scripted.
Find a boss that isn't bugged and kill it.
Get great drop.
Server crashes.
Rollback.
Oops, your item is gone.
Throw computer out window.

I'm not kidding. This happens multiple times a day on private servers.

This may or may not sound like fun to you. Then again, some people like having people beat the crap out of them.

Whatever floats your boat.

My personal boat enjoys a server where shit like that is INCREDIBLY rare. And, assuming something like that ever did happen, someone would go out of their way to help you.

Or you might get me. That would be less than optimal.

I get that private servers are free. Trust me when I tell you that I get that part. I am quite possibly the cheapest man on the planet.

If Susan needed a special medicine to survive, I'd probably ask if it came in a generic brand.

Oh c'mon. Love is priceless, but saving three dollars is a big deal.

I also get the whole 10x rate, high drop rate, armor vendor thing. They're making the game easier and, in turn, more fun.

More fun assuming you enjoy less challenge.

Will the WoW fans please stop nodding?

Jesus.

While I understand these things, I still don't get why someone would choose an amateur service over the official one. You are choosing a substandard product with substandard service just to save a little money.

This isn't medicine. This is a video game.

Where are your freaking priorities?

Seriously.

2010-04-04T18:17:00.000-07:00

Some people have suggested that my last post was an intricate April Fool's joke, that this was some sort of prank I was pulling on you.

Really?

Seriously?

Does that even seem like something that falls into the realm of April Fool's pranks?

An April Fool's prank is tricking someone into thinking they're late for work. Or pretending you've hurt yourself and laughing at their panic.

You do NOT invent a pregnancy for April Fool's.

Admittedly, March 31st was probably not the smartest time to make such an announcement. Pretty much anything I said would be assumed to be an April Fool's joke.

That, however, does not make it any less true.

Susan is pregnant.

I am at least partly to blame.

See, we were both there at the time, but this was not the intended outcome. Unfortunately, my power extends to reproduction.

Frankly, I was hoping for a few practice swings at the time. You know, something to do between Mysticmaker spawns.

Instead, I have created life.

People have suggested that I am a god. I don't want to encourage that kind of thinking, but I will point out that it didn't take me seven days to do it.

48 hours tops.

What?

I'm a firm believer that if you're going to do something, you should do it right.

That shit takes time.

And Gatorade.

A freaking lot of Gatorade.

Okay... Here's The News

2010-03-31T05:52:00.000-07:00

So, I last left you with a major cliffhanger, telling you about some big news.

I then went radio silent for a bajillion years.

Now, this was not an act of laziness on my part. I am totally cool with just telling you when I'm being lazy.

I'm actually quite proud of it.

Things have been hectic as hell around here and it all relates to the big news. I have been working sun up to sun down for the past few weeks, and it's just not leaving me a lot of time.

Those of you who asked if I'm spending all of my time playing WoW...

I'm not even going to dignify that with a response.

I thought you knew me.

No, things have been rocked pretty well down to the foundations here. I haven't even had much time to play FFXI or even craft.

You know... Other than the hours when I'm supposed to be helping players.

I think they're actually learning to help themselves. It's a growth experience for them.

That guy stuck behind that table in San d'Oria? I think he's starting to like it there.

It's a nice table.

He even has a chair. He can't actually sit in the chair, but it's there and I think that's enough for him. Someday, far in the future, if we give you guys the ability to use chairs, he will be envied for his chair-adjacent prison.

Anyway, the big news. I know you've been dying to know.

I know that because a lot of people have e-mailed me asking about it.

So, I'm going to tell you.

I'm going to tell you the news.

Tomorrow.

Kidding, kidding. Put down the torches.

*ahem*

Susan's pregnant.

Huzzah! I am going to be a father again!

I'm also in the happy phase right before I figure out how much damned work and how many awful disgusting jobs come with being a parent.

Totally ignoring that part.

We have spent the past few weeks getting our house ready, painting the spare bedroom a nice gender neutral color.

I hope our baby isn't gender neutral.

If it is though, that room is appropriately painted.

Honestly, we're really happy about it. I don't even care what we have.

As long as it's a boy.

And not gender neutral.

I'm Back

2010-03-18T20:52:00.000-07:00

Wow.

This... This has been an interesting week.

I've been working on a sort of project for you guys. Kind of an addendum to an idea I started a while ago.

See, a lot of readers (A LOT) have sent me messages asking about private servers. Private server this and private server that. What do I think about them? Blah, blah, blah.

Recently, I decided to look into it.

Remember the WoW trial I played for a theme week? Remember how all the WoW fanboys complained about how it was only a trial and it doesn't get good til later?

A lot of readers have sent me messages about that, too.

A Freaking Lot.

If you haven't figured out where this is going yet, shame on you.

I have been playing WoW on a private server for a few weeks now. That is in addition to:

a) working full time
b) being a father
c) being a husband
d) cultivating my FFXI obsession

I finally wanted to lay the entire matter to rest. I have done every conceivable thing there is to do without actually spending every waking moment playing.

Susan and I sat down and made a list of everything there is to do in an MMO and I have been forced to do them all.

I'm serious. She's withholding sex until I'm done.

A man has needs DAMMIT!

AND I have formulated my thoughts on the private server experience.

Spoiler: Not good.

Susan also suggested I take a vacation from blogging during the process as I barely had time to think.

Please don't think I have forsaken you, oh loyal reader. I have driven myself to the literal ends of my sanity to finally put an end to this debate once and for all.

Or until someone bitches about something else.

My list is almost complete. I have one big thing left and then, I am free to rain my wrath down upon all of the haters.

Things should be back to normal tomorrow. That or I'm going to stab myself in the eye.

Either or.

Also, I may or may not have some HUGE news to lay upon you pretty soon. I can't tell you anything, but it is BIG.

BIG.

And Then Susan Got Mad... - Vol. 7

2010-03-05T21:07:00.000-08:00

This one... This one happened not too long ago.

I've still got the bruises.

Susan and I were up and getting ready for work. We'd both been working really hard lately and we were very tired. Our daughter was all packed up and ready to go to the babysitter's, when the phone rang.

It was Susan's work. There was some sort of water problem and they were going to be closed for the day.

She, of course knowing that I would have killed to have the day off, tried to be as nice as possible.

Susan>> You've got to work and I don't.
Susan>> You've got to work and I don't.
Susan>> You've got to work and I don't.

The entire rest of the time I was getting ready, she just walked around and told me all of the stuff she was going to do that day. Since our daughter had to go to the babysitter's anyway, she had planned an entire day of gaming and television.

I handled it maturely.

[GM]Dave>> I hate you.
[GM]Dave>> I really F&%@ing hate you.

It wasn't the day off that bothered me.

Okay... That bothered me a little.

What bothered me the most, though, is the way she was rubbing it in my face, constantly reminding me that she got the whole day off and I had to go back to the spice mines.

That wasn't like Susan.

That was like me.

And, because I'm a giant freaking hypocrite whenever it suits me, she would have to pay dearly.

I left for the day and quickly rushed to the office after dropping the little girl off. When I got to my desk, I set down my stuff, logged into my account, and then sent Susan's character to Mordion Gaol.

For no reason.

Maybe she wouldn't figure out what happened.

Susan>> Dave...
Susan>> This isn't funny.

So, she knows it was me. So what? I'm not scared of my wife.

She isn't behind me, is she?

Now, I'd like to say that I only kept her in jail for a little while as a sort of practical joke.

Not really.

Actually, I kept her there for roughly 8 hours.

Hey! That's how long my shift was. Isn't that a funny coincidence?

She probably went to watch some TV during those 8 hours.

Did I mention I put a password on the television so that it won't change channels?

From the e-mails I got from her that day, I assume she figured that out.

Eventually, after an entire 8 hour work day was behind me, I hopped in my car and drove home. Oh, how we'd laugh about it, my little practical joke.

Susan had a joke, too.

Her joke went something like "I'm going to punch you in your face."

Right as I opened the door, boom, right in the nose.

Luckily, she hits like a girl.

Oh, she didn't talk to me for days afterward and, even then, it was only long enough to tell me how much she wanted to murder me.

[GM]Dave>> Morning, honey.
Susan>> I'm going to kill you.

You could feel the love.

She got over it eventually. I guess she decided that it wasn't such a big deal and that, just maybe, she blew it out of proportion. It was totally forgiven.

Until the next time I did it.

And Then Susan Got Mad... - Vol. 6

2010-03-04T21:01:00.000-08:00

So one of the things Susan's friends like to do occasionally is to get together and play party-style board games.

*ahem*

Yay?

I've got nothing against party games as long as that party game involves me being in a party in a game I actually like.

I'll give you two guesses which one.

Or any game that involves stripping. Strip [insert game here] is the greatest game ever.

Despite my rather obvious dislike of:

a) people
b) social gatherings
c) social gatherings of people

my wife insists I go with her. She likes for us to do things together, outside the house and away from our computers.

No, I don't get it either.

Anyway, we're at her friends house playing a board game. It was some sort of bastardized Newlywed/Match Game bullshit where the men had to answer questions based on what they think their wife would say.

They should have called the game "RUN! IT'S A F&%@ING TRAP!"

Most of the game was going pretty well. I had managed to get answers that were reasonably close to what my wife said. I was actually starting to think that I would make it out unscathed.

Not so much.

Someone pulls a card and the question reads "Do you think your wife would get plastic surgery if you paid for it?"

NOTICE: The card does not say "SHOULD get".

"WOULD get..."

That's a big freaking difference.

I've heard Susan make offhand comments about plastic surgery. Nothing major. Just a little nip her or there. We'd just had a conversation a few days earlier about what she would change.

Her words. Not mine.

Also important.

I'm confident in my answer. I'm sure that is exactly how Susan would feel.

Then the first husband reads his answer.

"Of course not. My wife is perfect just the way she is."

He has, at this point, done two things:

1) traded in his testicles for a pretty new purse
2) totally screwed me over

The next guy says "I'd never want to change anything about her."

Oh.

Shit.

Now, They're getting closer to me and I know I have to read my answer.

"How could anyone make her more beautiful?"

OH, COME ON!

Then, it's my turn. The whole table is looking at me. I reach for my card with the intent of lying through my teeth when Susan's friend reaches over and yanks my paper off the table.

Yoink.

That sound wasn't her taking the paper. That's the sound my testicles made when they jumped up inside my torso for protection.

Don't read it out loud.

Don't read it out loud.

And... She read it out loud.

And then, Susan got mad.

You know, I'm actually getting used to sleeping on the couch. It's really quite comfortable.

And Then Susan Got Mad... - Vol. 5

2010-03-03T20:46:00.000-08:00

So what have I done to make Susan mad in game?

A lot of people have written me messages just to ask that question.

I mean, I guess I get it. I spend so much time in game, I must have done something to piss Susan off there. I must have done something in game that made her want to kill me.

All the freaking time.

I can't turn around without doing something to piss her off. That's a given.

But there was one thing...

Okay... This one was bad.

Really bad.

When we first introduced colored chocobos, Susan was desperate to get a green one. All she could do was talk about getting her own green chocobo.

She would get an egg, care for it, nurture it, wait patiently for it to hatch, and... Yellow.

Every freaking time. Yellow.

Even given all the slight rarity of the colored chocobos, she was bound to get some color other than yellow eventually. Probability alone suggested it had to happen.

She would get an egg, care for it, nurture it, wait patiently for it to hatch, and... Yellow.

Every freaking time. Yellow.

And so she would try harder. She'd care for it at different times of day or on specific days in the elemental cycle.

She worked really hard at it.

She would get an egg, care for it, nurture it, wait patiently for it to hatch, and... Yellow.

Every freaking time. Yellow.

This went on for months and months and months.

Egg, hatch, yellow.

Egg, hatch, yellow.

Finally, one day, she decided to just give up on raising chocobos because she was never going to get a green one. She looked so sad and depressed as she walked her little character right out of the chocobo stable.

That's when I told her about my "joke".

See, my "joke" was to go onto my GM account every time she got an egg and make sure it was a yellow one. Every single time.

I must have thrown away three green ones, not to mention every other color under the sun.

And then Susan got mad...

Man, you should have seen the look on her face.

When I woke up, the paramedics told me that she looked very angry.

And Then Susan Got Mad... - Vol. 4

2010-03-02T19:45:00.000-08:00

Okay, so Susan was in labor...

Yes, this is a story about how my wife got mad at me while she was in labor.

Now, you're probably saying that this is nothing new. You're probably thinking that every father has a story about his wife getting mad at them in the middle of labor.

Something about a tiny person clawing their way out through your genitals just makes women cranky.

But not me. Oh, no. I went above and beyond.

Before my beautiful daughter was born, we got to take these super fun, super interesting classes about all of the exciting things that would happen during the majestic phenomenon that is birth.

At least... That's what they tell you.

Actually, I sat in a small, uncomfortable room listening to a woman tell all the men what not to do in order to keep your wife from murdering you.

Here is the list:

1) don't eat in front of her
2) don't talk about it taking too long
3) don't leave her alone for any reason

Pretty simple, right? Just don't do those three little things.

Guess how many of them I did while Susan was in labor.

If you guessed less than three, welcome to my blog.

First off, the food. That one really wasn't my fault. Everyone who came to visit her during her TWENTY HOUR LABOR brought me food.

Let me say that again: TWENTY HOUR LABOR.

How am I not supposed to eat? I needed to keep my strength up.

And Susan didn't even offer me some of those ice chips she was getting. I mean, how selfish can you get, right?

Now, yes, I could have lat least left the room. Sitting in front of her eating a giant bacon cheeseburger when she couldn't have food... That may have been rude.

But I wasn't supposed to leave her alone.

Rule motherf&^@in' three.

She did not see it that way.

Second, the not talking about how long it was taking...

Yeah.

Have you ever sat around for your girlfriend/fiance/wife while she went shopping for half an hour? Remember how freaking annoying that was?

Multiply that by 40.

Literally.

I spent 20 hours just standing around while she just laid there breathing.

At least she got to lie down.

Am I right?

We were at the hospital freaking early. Like the sun wasn't even up and shit and I'm at a hospital waiting to get stuff done.

When five o'clock rolls around HOURS later, I casually mentioned:

[GM]Dave>> You know, I could have actually gone to work today.

Yeah, Susan didn't find that funny either.

And last, but most certainly not least, the not leaving her alone...

Okay, after 15 odd hours of standing around and trying to be motivational, I was getting a little tired. It had been an exhausting day, both mentally and physically, and I needed to take a break for just a minute.

There was a TV in the room and someone, for whatever reason, had turned it on earlier. I walked over, looked at it for two seconds, and tried to collect myself.

Five minutes, tops.

That's when I heard my darling wife calling to me. As I turned and walked back towards her, she was smiling.

Do you know sharks kind of smile before they tear your leg off?

As soon as I was within arm's reach, she whipped her arm out and grabbed me by the chest. I don't mean she grabbed my shirt. She reached out and grabbed a handful of skin.

I don't have a lot of lose skin to begin with and yet, she somehow managed to grab an entire fistful of it.

She then pulled me in so that our faces were bare millimeters apart.

Susan>> DON'T.
Susan>> LEAVE.
Susan>> AGAIN!
Susan>> I WILL F&%@ING CUT YOU!

To say that the look in her eyes was frightening is an understatement.

It might be more accurate to say that every sperm in my body that would have been capable of impregnating her in the future, spontaneously died.

Just up and died.

My wife is a beautiful woman. She is shorter than me, weaker than me, and honestly, I could take her if I needed to.

But that day...

Seriously. They just up and died.

Emergency Intermission

2010-03-01T19:11:00.000-08:00

Okay, I want everyone to calm down and take a breath.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Now that we've taken a moment, perhaps we can discuss this rationally.

Yes, they are going to raise the level cap in FFXI. Yes, the level cap is going to be 99. Yes, they are merging servers. Yes, they are planning on making a number of job adjustments.

That's everything.

We can all calm down now.

Some of you may be wondering why they made this decision. Why would they, after years of vowing never to touch the level cap, suddenly decide to raise it to 99?

Is it to make the players happy?

Haha. No.

What are you? New?

Is it to bring in new players?

No, not really. New players really can't see much of a difference between 75 and 99 except that one is larger than the other.

Hint: It's the 99.

Is FFXI dying?

Shut up. Just shut up already.

So why, oh why, did they decide to do it?

I'll give you the one reason, the one ultimate reason behind this epic decision:

Forums.

FFXI forums have gotten boring as all hell lately. Back in the day, every board was on fire with people arguing about subs and leveling and what party should go where.

Lately, that shit has gotten kind of stale. Everyone knows the best subs for every job and everyone knows where to level when.

BORING.

We're gonna spice that shit up. Pretty soon, your favorite forum is going to be overrun with players asking what's the best sub for every job at level 99.

Your opinion doesn't count, you n00b. You're only level 75 on every job with full merits.

NOOB!

Do you know the best place for a level 84 Black Mage to level?

You don't?

EXACTLY!

Oh, oh. That guy in Whitegate with the best gear in the game who just walks around showing off?

Yeah, day after update, that shit is worthless.

Worthless.

Imagine the threads that guy will start.

HAHA! It will be GLORIOUS!

GLORIOUS!

Man, this is so plain, unadulterated evil, I'd almost think I came up with it.

I should check my sent e-mail. Drunk me may be smarter than I give him credit for.

And Then Susan Got Mad... - Vol. 3

2010-02-28T19:48:00.000-08:00

Susan and I have been together for a very long time. Sometimes, it even seems like we've been together forever.

I mean that in the nicest way possible of course.

...

Over that time, we have become very comfortable with each other. We have learned to accept and live with each other's faults and shortcomings.

Except for one.

See, I'm not exactly what you might call the world's neatest person. I am more of a free spirit.

I have heard it described as being a slob, a pig in man form.

Susan, on the other hand, is an obsessive-compulsive neat freak.

Neat.

Freak.

Even though we've been together forever and she was well aware of my nature, she still, to this day, gets incredibly pissed off that I don't clean more.

Honestly, I feel for her. I'm sure it's probably very frustrating to live with someone who just doesn't give a shit.

And I really don't.

But, I'm going to have to play the precedent card here. I made my position on cleaning quite clear early on in our relationship. This is not a surprise or unexpected behavior. She went into this thing with full disclosure.

She may have thought she could change me.

Not freaking likely. She's more likely to train a goldfish to vacuum as get me to clean up.

I'm just not that kind of guy. Why the hell would you make the bed? You're going to get right back into it.

And wash dishes? We're just going to put food right back on there.

I'm just saving time and energy.

Well... My time and energy. Susan uses HER time and energy following behind me, cleaning up after me.

It's a beautiful symbiosis.

At least, I think so.

She... Does not.

When I started this week, I tried to think of some of the biggest things I've done to piss Susan off. There were so many (seriously) that I was having trouble narrowing it down.

So, I asked her.

This, it would turn out, was a mistake.

I expected her to list off a few times I made her angry and that she eventually got over. You know, look back and laugh at how silly it was.

Not quite.

Instead, I got to hear in tremendous detail just how much work it is to take care of a house and keep it clean.

And she was yelling.

She didn't start out yelling. Everything started out nice and calm and then slowly escalated in volume and tone until she was ranting and raving about cleaning the house.

The word "maid" was thrown about once or twice.

This was a conversation we'd had many times before, so I knew the best thing for me to do was just sit quietly and ride out the storm. Anything I said could and would be used against me in a court of law.

So, I sat quietly. And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Things were just starting to wind down and I thought I might actually make it out alive. She was calming down and her volume was slowly getting closer and closer to regular talking. She paused to take a breath and closed her argument with:

Susan>> Why is it my job to clean up everything?

And I heard someone that sounded very much like me say:

[GM]Dave>> Because you're a woman?

And then Susan got mad...

And Then Susan Got Mad... - Vol. 2

2010-02-27T17:30:00.000-08:00

Men, oh you silly, unprepared men, I am going to try and lay down some excellent advice for you.

Know your audience.

Your girlfriend/fiance/wife wants you to know what her most intimate thoughts and feelings are. She wants you to understand her on a fundamental level.

That's not going to happen.

There's no way you can understand women. It's nothing wrong with you or with them. It's just that men and women think very, VERY differently.

What you need to do, as a man, is to try and think about what she would want to do, not what you actually want.

Think really hard.

Really hard.

And then, when you have finally figured out what to do, you're still wrong.

There's no way out of it. It's a trap that you basically have to stick your foot in. You see it sitting on the ground, sharp teeth glinting in the sunlight, and you have to stick your leg out and step right on in.

I present to you: A man's dilemma.

A few weeks before our impending wedding, Susan and I went to a store together. A store that specialized in intimate apparel.

A naughty underwear store.

To call some of the things in this store underwear is being generous. Much of their stock consisted of dental floss with the occasional bow or clip.

Yes, I was very happy.

Then, just as I thought we were going to get to the good stuff, Susan looks at me and says

Susan>> I have a fun idea.
Susan>> I'll pick something and you pick something for me.
Susan>> Then, we'll see if we match.

Warning bells started going off in my mind. No good could come from this.

Susan>> Don't worry.
Susan>> Pick something you like.

Then she walked away, leaving me to debate the situation by myself.

I said DEbate.

Now, there were two basic paths for me to take here:

1) buy something that I would like

2) buy something that I think she would like

I'm not an idiot. I immediately discounted number one. My opinion doesn't actually matter.

But what would she actually like?

Now, that had some creepy stuff in a room in the back. That shit was crossed off the list immediately.

Some of it was very scary. I think there was a hazmat suit back there.

So, I was left deciding between the romantic nightgowns and the very uncomfortable looking lingerie.

My first impulse was to go for the nightgown. That was pretty freaking obvious.

But was it too obvious?

What if that was the trap? What if she wants to wear the interesting stuff, but she wants to see if I'd like that?

I mean we are at a lingerie store. This isn't some sort of coincidence. It's not like we're in the Walmart pajama section or something. The entire store is designed around the concept of naughty underwear.

Plus, that stuff would probably make her feel super attractive. Wearing that stuff would make her feel sexy in a way that no stupid nightgown possibly could.

She'd probably be happy that I picked out something like that.

She'd probably thank me.

I swear to God, that's what I was actually thinking.

Women, men really are this stupid.

I went and carefully selected some very tasteful lingerie (read: four strings attached to a few of postage stamps) and headed off to find my wife.

I had my selection hidden behind my back. So did she.

She smiled. So did I.

Then we showed what we picked out.

I smiled. She didn't.

And what was she holding? That's right. A romantic nightgown.

My wife picked out a very nice, very comfortable looking silk nightgown and I had picked up something that looked like it was fresh off the set of a porn movie.

And then Susan got mad.

Apparently, "pick something you like" translates into "I hope you like hour long lectures about understanding your wife and respecting her feelings".

We didn't even buy anything. We just walked right on out.

Well, she walked right on out and I followed her while apologizing profusely.

Do you know what's fun? A half hour drive listening to your wife go on and on about how she's not your whore.

She used that word a lot.

And the word prostitute.

And Harlot.

I had to look that one up.

It means whore.

She didn't find me pointing out her unnecessary usage of synonyms funny either.

Honestly, I'm kind of surprised she even showed up at the wedding.

And Then Susan Got Mad... - Vol. 1

2010-02-26T20:07:00.000-08:00

Oh where do I begin?

The chosen theme of this week's posts is "The Times I Made Susan Angry."

How I'm going to pick out just seven of the many, many, MANY times this has happened, I have no idea. I have enough material for a theme month.

Or year.

Since I was not given any sort of criteria by which to organize the type of angry involved, I thought we'd go with a random sampler of the logical/stupid things I've done that have ultimately made my wife angry.

Part 1: Listening To Her

Women are interesting things. While they may be from the same area you are from, raised in the same culture as you, taught the same language as you, and even have spoken to you in your own language quite fluently, they speak in an entirely different language.

It is a subtle language where meanings of words are not based on actual definitions, but by subtle undertones that you should be able to pick out. Often, these meanings will completely contradict the meaning of the words themselves.

Here's a hint: If you think you know what a woman is saying, you're wrong.

See, women have this built-in system of saying things that are not true, but are designed to test your ability to figure out what they actually mean.

"I don't care" means "I've given you the choice, but I'm going to tell you you're wrong when you make it"

This is very interesting as it is completely the opposite of how a guy's brain works. If a guy says something, it means it is immediately true. There are no subtle undertones or meanings that have to be ascertained. Just take it at face value.

"I don't care" means "I don't really give a shit either way. Whatever."

This difference in communication can often lead to problems.

This brings us to Valentine's Day last year. Money was a little tight and as the day approached, I asked Susan what kind of budget I was working under.

She said, and I quote, "Oh, you don't have to get me anything. I don't want anything."

We agreed not to get each other anything for Valentine's Day.

Something should have gone off in my head. A buzzer, a bell. Some sort of early warning system. My years of dealing with women should have told me this was a trap.

Nothing.

Not so much as a doubt in my mind that that is what she meant.

See, if I had said "I don't want anything", it would mean that I really don't want anything. If I wanted something I would answer "I would like [insert thing/game/sexual favor here]".

We are a simple people.

So, when she said that, I took it at face value. She didn't want anything. I wouldn't buy anything.

And then Susan got mad...

Valentine's Day rolls around and I noticed my wife was acting a little strange. You could tell she was kind of waiting for something.

I, being a loving husband, asked her what was wrong.

"So... What'd you get me for Valentine's Day?"

If a man's heart can go from resting to five hundred beats a second, then I am proof of it. I went from being in a generally pleasant mood to suddenly fearing for my life.

Kind of like a cow. I was having a perfectly nice day out in the field when the farmer walks up and says he wants to show me his new hammer.

Bam!

The correct response was "Oh, I left it at the office. Let me go get it."

I know this because the incorrect response was "You told me not to get you anything."

Two guesses which one I said.

Hint: This is not Susan ALMOST Got Mad week.

I should have apologized immediately for having a proper grasp of the english language, but instead, I decided to explain to her how this was all her fault.

Basically, I was digging my own grave.

The last thing a woman wants to hear in this situation is anything even remotely related to it being her fault. Any intelligent man would just run to the nearest store and buy her a gold anything.

Me being me, I argued that point into the freaking ground. It was like high school debate club and that bitch was going down.

Except for the fact that that bitch was my wife and, according to the laws of marriage, a wife can never lose an argument.

Instead of laying out a solid argument about why this wasn't my fault, I was apparently explaining how I did not want to have sex any time in the near future.

Apparently, we speak a different language, too.

Honestly, my wife is a pretty nice lady, but that night I was absolutely positive that she was going to freaking murder me in the face.

All up in my face.

Here's a hint for you: if a woman ever says not to buy her something, go buy it anyway. Buy two of them. Hell, buy eight of them.

You don't want that kind of trouble.

Any man who says he's not worried is either delusional or single.

I actually leave randomly wrapped presents around the house in case I forget something. Kind of like emergency presents.

It's just good planning.

Really, the only solace I have is the fact that it really WAS all her fault.

Tomorrow's Post: Susan reads this post.

F&%@ it. I'm usually in trouble anyway.

Oh Yeah...

2010-02-24T20:17:00.000-08:00

I'm going to rock your world here. Seriously, I am about to drop a major bomb on you, the likes of which you have never seen.

*ahem*

[GM]Dave is not a good person.

I know, I know. It's more than you could possibly imagine.

I'll give you a minute to gather yourself.

See, a few people have been sending me e-mails wondering what ever happened to the last fan pack. Right before Christmas, I did a theme week and, at the end of the theme week, I was supposed to send out a fan pack.

That did not happen.

Why? Well, at the time, a lot of nasty shit went down and I wasn't in any place to be funny. I couldn't sit down and write even if I had wanted to.

Then things got better.

But, by then, the fan pack was so late that I felt it had to be better.

So, I rewrote it.

And hated it.

And I rewrote it.

Hated that one worse.

That's when things started to snowball. The more time I spent trying to make it funny, the less funny it really was.

Susan said I was trying too hard.

So, I put it off.

And off.

And off.

I'm pretty sure you see where this is going.

At this point, I've decided that I just have to do something. I have to get this thing finished before it drives me insane.

Also, before a small contingent of my loyal readers show up at my door and murder me.

Seriously, don't do that. I'm working, I'm working. You can take your coat off.

What I've figured out is that the problem is three-fold:

1) I am a perfectionist
2) I am an asshole
3) I am lazy

Thus, my only option is to give myself a finite, concrete deadline. I need to draw a line that I have to have this done by or it'll never get done.

To accomplish this, we're going to have another theme week. A straight week of posts as suggested by the person who donated most during this drought of fan pack goodness.

At the end of the week, I'll be sending out the fan pack.

Now, if you donated for the fanpack before Christmas or have donated since, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO DONATE AGAIN. You guys totally did your part, I just have to live up to my end.

If you want to donate, go right ahead. I'll add it to previous donations and the top donor will pick next month's theme week.

And if you've never donated before... Why the hell not? Do I come down to McDonald's and watch you make burgers, but never buy one? Huh, do I?

Some people, I tell you.

Of course, if it took two months to get a damned Big Mac, I doubt I'd pay them either.

Haha.

Ha.

Seriously, I'm good for it. One week.

Seriously.