You can win my copy of The Elder Scrolls Online as well as some QuakeCon swag ...but you have to find the thread to enter.
I just cracked open my first MGD, my shirt smells like mesquite smoke and freedom, and when I'm done eating this huge grilled porterhouse it's off to watch fireworks and masturbate to the Star Spangled Banner. It's how John Wayne woulda done it. Murica! Nuff said.
Happy Birthday, America!
Those of us who have played Fallout 3 are famaliar with the story of Little Lamplight. A grade school class was visiting the Lamplight Caverns, just outside DC, when the bombs fell. The caves were deep underground, which kept the children safe. Fast forward a couple of hundred years and the caverns are still populated with only children: once a child turns sixteen he, or she, is exiled to Big Town. Where are these children coming from? Are these kids procreating in the caves? They're far too distrustful of strangers to recruit. I bet that little shit MacCready knows, but he ain't talking. Dirty, little shits.
Okay, so folks are doing a lot of traveling this weekend: grilling at the lake, drinking a shitload of beer and puking on the beanbag chair in the motel room, and eating at roadside drive in type diner places. A couple of years ago, I drove from my home in Fort Worth, Tx to Chicago for the LAN. Somewhere along the way, it may have been St Louis, we stopped at a truck stop to get some food and enjoy a few minutes of being out of the car. I went into the bathroom stall and there was a dead cockroach in the toilet.. Now the rational mind would likely draw the conclusion that the cockroach was a former resident of the truck stop, it went for a swim without waiting the prerequisite thirty minutes after eating, and drowned in the bowl. I, however, have come to a second possible explanation: the roach crawled out of somebody's butt and they intentionally left it there. Imagine, if you will, that there is a man walking around St Louis, desperately and with an iron will, clinching his sphincter tightly so cockroaches don't pour out of his butt and scare the locals, only to relieve himself occasionally at designated truck stop restrooms, leaving only one roach in the bowl to mark his passage. Disturbing, I know, but not nearly as disturbing as a diner infested with roaches, or a diner with food so unhealthy that it kills cockroaches who are able to survive nuclear fallout. So the next time you're eating on the road, demand to see the diner's clean bill of health, examine the restrooms, and demand rectal exams for every diner patron. You don't want to end up eating with a bunch of weirdos. Have a happy and safe Memorial Day.
Once a month, usually on Saturday, I take my Basset, Mack, to the Paw Spa to get his nails clipped. I got Mack from the North Texas Basset Rescue people, and he is afflicted with a severe case of separation anxiety. Anyway, the fucking Paw Spa doesn't accept credit cards, so I stopped off at the 7-11 to hit the ATM and grab a Big Gulp...they were on sale for 69 cents. While I was in the store, Mack freaks the fuck out and urinates in my cup holder...so I set my drink on the dash to go get some paper towels. While I'm getting sopping supplies, Captain Fucking Freak Out knocks my drink off the dash and grinds it into the driver's seat. Man's best friend, indeed.