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I hate questionnaires on job applications!

phil — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 21:26:22 GMT

If I make a mistake, I figure out what went wrong, how to fix it, and then forget about it.

Strongly Agree
Agree
Neither Agree nor Disagree
Disagree
Strongly Disagree

If I say I agree, then I might be saying that I forget about how I learned to solve a problem

if I say I disagree, I might say I don't learn how to solve problems at all.

FUCK

And I know that if I get something in even the smallest degree wrong I might as well delete my application entirely.

40K 4,500 battle report

Krisken — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 17:29:11 GMT

I finally got to play this weekend for the first time since early August. We were teams of 3 players each side with 1,500 points a person and followed the normal force organizational chart. On the side for good were a vanilla Space Marines army, Black Templars, and Grey Knights. On the side for awesome were Chaos Space Marines, Tyranid, and Chaos Daemons (myself). The game was Capture and Control, and was a Pitched Battle using two 8X4 tables pushed together (so it was 8X8).

As battles go, it was at times hilarious, frustrating, and head slapping. Everyone forgot to do something vital at one point or another, and through the game we had to move the tables apart to move the Tyranid across the table. I insisted that the terrain used be some nice big LoS blocking monstrosities which made moving across the table more possible.

My army consisted of 2 units Plaguebearers, 2 units bloodcrushers, 2 Soul Grinders, 1 Lord of Change, and Fateweaver. I'll give a quick idea on how the game went- Our objective was unmanned. On their turn they move up the tanks a little bit and fire on one of our landraiders, actually immobilizing it right off the bat. Our turn we move everything up and my preferred wave shows up, the LoC and Fatweaver dropping down on one side of their deployment and the two units of Bloodcrushers dropped right behind their stuff on the other side of their deployment.

The game itself proceeded to be a lot of firing at Fateweaver (his first two wounds came from a psycannon, go figure) and the Lord of Change resulting in little to no effect and the Bloodcrushers first taking a lot of hits and then dishing out pain the opponents really didn't expect. The second turn saw the opponents deepstrike 2 units 5 Black Templar stormshield/hammer termies on our objective, which meant it would have been too costly to try to dislodge them. At that point I hoped just for a tie and aimed to dislodge their troops from their objective.

On turn 5, after effectively destroying a vindicator, a venerable dreadnought, some Grey Knights, and a full squad of 10 space marines (which for some reason had 2 up saves), Fateweaver wiffed his second save against a space marine special character (which was almost a Librarian with Null Zone until I said it would be a cock-head thing to do) and left the board. The next turn, after the previous turn rolling so poorly on his attacks (1, 1, and... 1), the LoC AGAIN rolled poorly to attack the lone special character (1, 2, 1) and in return taking 3 wounds (had 3 left at this point). The stupid chicken rolled all 2's to save and croaked.

On turn 6 their Termies were still sitting happy on our objective and a squad of Black Templar which had been whittled down to 4 guys were on theirs. Being the only troop in the area, I instructed the Chaos player to direct all of his shooting at that unit. He passes morale for target priority and annihilates the unit with his 3 Obliterators.

End result- No objectives held, tactical draw.

Highs of the game-
1. The amount of fire 10 models can take. Holy crap, Fateweaver and a LoC can take a beating together! The Bloodcrushers also took a huge brunt of fire and just shrugged it off. Well worth their points.
2. Immobilizing the Veteran Dread turn 1. This really limited that player's options.
3. Fateweaver and the LoC both landed right next to each other. Wow, that was some luck!

Lows
1. Psycannons (and the like)- Blech. Two hits on turn one left Fateweaver sitting with one wound almost the entire game.
2. Forgetting to do stuff. One player didn't know he could run his guys (yes, the chaos player). It wasn't until turn 5 he really could do any effective shooting, and turn 6 until he was in combat (with Khorne Beserkers).

All in all, I learned a lot and had a good time

Aaaand here comes work again.

GasBandit — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 18:36:25 GMT

I might be a little scarce AGAIN for the next few days. Work's exploded into a dizzying array of issues I need to handle, and this time I can't even blame it on a pregnant woman.

And it sucks, too. Because just the other night I'd come up with something akin to 3 good topics to write about here... such as how much the song "Signs" makes me grate my teeth, or how for some reason the word "disgusting" has absolutely no meaning for me. I guess maybe I can come back to those when things calm down, if I still think they are a good idea then.

Jet lag sucks

Wasabi Poptart — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 08:12:56 GMT

In other news we made it to Oahu. Dramamine is a wonderful thing. My son enjoyed his first flight (at least that he remembers). We watched "Oceans", which was the in-flight movie, and "The Empire Strikes Back" on our dvd player. My daughter had some trouble at the beginning of our connecting flight, but Dramamine knocked her little butt out and she woke up a very happy, hungry girl about mid-way through the flight. I am still feeling wonky, like my equilibrium is off. Hopefully that will resolve itself in the next day or two. Tomorrow is the beginning of a very busy week.

Aloha!

FECK OFF, CHINA (Pop Your Acid Spangle)

Philosopher B. — Sat, 28 Aug 2010 15:21:58 GMT

Goddamn it, China. GET OUT OF MY HEAD. This is the weirdest fucking thing imaginable. Well, that's not strictly true. The weirdest thing I can imagine is Katy Perry and Angelina Jolie mud-wrestling in the buff on a hot muggy day in June while Scarlett Johansson watches.

Wait, that's the sexiest thing. Not the weirdest. Weird is like a David Lynch film. Or the way your old man stares lustily at those yams in the refrigerator, his beady eyes twinkling like twin stars embedded deep within the shiny faceflesh of a sex-crazed pervert.

By the way, give your old man my regards. He's never had a misstep. YES I SAID IT, JACKIE BROWN WAS GOOD, DEATHPROOF WAS RAD AS SHIT, AND INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS WAS A GODDAMN MASTERPIECE. Well, aside from the spelling in the title of the latter. THAT'S RIGHT KIDDIES I'M A STICKLA, COMIN' UP IN YO' NEIGHBAHOOD A-GETTIN' STICKLISH ABOUT SHIT. I go around corRECTIN' people on shit. I'm like Weird Al all up in this bitch.

Yeah, so I was talking about spelling and he was concerned with grammar. FECK OFF AND HUMP A GOAT. But use protection if you do. I hear that those goats are randy fuckers. If it's got a hole, chances are those mothers gonna stick somethin' in it.

But then, that's hardly surprising, is it? We all know that the Statue of Liberty is a sex-kitten. A dirty dirty sex kitten. What, don't believe me? Shit, I ain't got to illustrate that shit, do I? But of course I don't. All I gotta do is order you to POP YOUR FUCKIN' ACID SPANGLE and let Andy Partridge of the criminally underrated XTC do the rest:

That's right. She'll just let anyone sail beneath her skirt and snatch a peek. Lol. 'Snatch' a peek.

But I'm getting off topic. My complaint lies not with that saucy green minx of liberty. It lies, rather, WITH CHINA. BECAUSE IT'S IN MY HEAD.

But mind, I have nothing against the Chinese. I'm not a racist or anything.

It's just, I object to China's invasion of the United States of America. IN MY DREAMS. That's right. For the last two nights in a row, I keep dreaming about China invading the U.S. Usually it's a variation on my werewolf invasion dream, but for some fucking reason it's China's fightin' force. Except, I never SEE the soldiers. I'm just told they're out there, lurking in the field in front of my house.

So I keep on the move, right, thinking around every corner I'm going to be blown away by mortar shells or some shit. Is that some weird shit or what? I mean, yeah, I've had some weird-ass dreams, and I've had plenty of recurring dreams, but this shit happened TWO NIGHTS IN A ROW. It was like a two-parter episode. And every time the real action is about to start, I wake up with the startling feeling that I'm about to be shot.

It's not comfortable. But then, doing your mother wasn't particular comfortable either, what with her ginormous attributes getting in the way. But that was a blast (quite literally). Being invaded isn't. Unless it's the Russians, coming to invade my pants. You know, sexy Russians (as if there were any other kind).

Dreams are fucked up, though. I NEVER dream about what I'm thinking on before I go to bed. No use focusing on a relaxing topic. Because my dreams could involve me flying through the clouds, or trying to stab a velociraptor climbing in through the picture window with a spear, or God KNOWS WHAT.

I dunno man, my mind plays hob with me sometimes. It's the worst when you wake up in the middle of some weird shit in a panic. Panic isn't something that should be associated with being in bed. Unless that's your kink, in which case panic away, you pump-hound.

- Colin, wondering what bizarre scenarios await him tonight and wishing that for once it could involve Scarlett Johansson

HISSSSSSSSSS

GasBandit — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 15:44:50 GMT

For the last 6 or 8 months, the single fluorescent light fixture in my office has been operating on a single bluish fluorescent bulb. At first it seemed a little dim to me, but I got used to it, even grew to like it.

Apparently, last night, maintenance finally got around to replacing my lights.

Now my office burns under the withering luminescence of a thousand exploding suns, searing my retinas and making dark smoke waft gently from the ominously bubbling skin of my forearms.

Seriously, it's frickin' bright in here. I have half a mind to climb up there and unscrew a couple of the bulbs, but I'm reasonably certain that any such attempt could only end with me hospitalized.

And to add insult to injury? They left the old, expended bulbs leaning on the wall in my office. A reminder of the pleasant dusk atmosphere that my office used to be. What am I supposed to do with these 4-foot long spears of darkness? Can't even have an inter-office sword fight because the things are glass and the movie Clerks taught me that "the insides of those things have stuff that can give you cancer."

It occurs to me that fluorescent lights only seem to come in two flavors - soul-sucking blue and soul-searing yellow. Obviously, this time I seem to have received soul-searing yellow. I'm sure they're even now giving me a Brain Cloud and I'm going to have to go find a volcano to jump in.

OKstupid question

phil — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 03:51:38 GMT

So I'm trolling for tail on OKC and looking at some of the questions some foxy ladies have been answering and this one has been bugging me.

Q) Would you strongly prefer to date someone of your own skin color / racial background?

It's really surprising the number of women who have answered Yes to this. I honestly don't get it. I could maybe understand not wanting to deal with any negativity that you might come across in an interracial relationship, but would you really want to avoid it to the point where you would strongly prefer to date within your own race only?

There's a similar one where it asks if you would your partner to be of the same ethnicity as you if you were having kids. A lot of girls have been answering yes to that one too.

I know that this is Texas people, but come on

Whirly ball.

phil — Sun, 22 Aug 2010 22:20:10 GMT

Yesterday we celebrated my mom's 50th birthday by playing whirly ball at a nearby place in Plano. The game is basically a mix of basketball and lacrosse I guess. You have scoopers to hold the ball and shoot with (no direct hand contact allowed) and you're aiming for a backboard. hitting it at all is 1 point, and hitting it in the center is worth 2. The twist is, you play in bumbercars. Once your team makes a point, the other team gets possession of the ball until they shoot or pass or something, at which point you can go for it again. The shooting war hard, and I only ever made like 2 points the over the maybe 6 games I ended up playing. I was a good blocker though. I made sure no one got too close to whoever was shooting for my team so they couldn't intercept or bump him as he took his shot.

Here's a video of one of the games.

Red 12- My Mom
Skinny guy in on of the two yellow cars with a 5 on it- my brother
not as skinny guy in the other yellow 5 car- my cousin

everyone else is either a friend of my mom or a husband of a friend of my mom so I don't actually know them.

(venting) I'm sorry.

David — Fri, 13 Aug 2010 04:58:40 GMT

I'm sorry for having flaws.

I'm sorry for being neither Edward nor Jacob.

I'm sorry on behalf of members of my sex whom I have never met or had a connection to yet whose actions are somehow my responsibility.

I'm sorry for the retarded decisions you choose to make over and over that are somehow the collective fault of all men, including me.

I'm sorry for whatever it is that disqualifies me from being the "great guy who isn't taken or gay" who you keep complaining about the nonexistence of.

And to add to the fun...

Wasabi Poptart — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 23:10:01 GMT

Mr. Wasabi's second post-vasectomy test. Apparently he has super-sperm because those little suckers are refusing to go away.

FML

No nyet nein

Wasabi Poptart — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 19:30:41 GMT

The list came out today. He didn't make it.

I feel sick. I had pinned some hope on it happening so maybe we'd have a chance of getting other orders. Denied. Crap crap crap. :/

Now this is a motivational poster

GasBandit — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 16:08:17 GMT

Suck it, "Hang in there" kitten.

Locks.

GasBandit — Tue, 10 Aug 2010 20:07:58 GMT

It's deep in the throes of summer in Texas, which can mean only one thing -

Every door I attempt to enter will swell shut.

I don't know why this has been such a problem the last few years. I even had to have the door frame on my front door rebuilt entirely because a burglar in June destroyed it utterly in the process of using a crowbar to pry open the front door. New frame, no more sticking deadbolt, I thought. Shows what I get for thinking.

But as I alluded, there's more than just this one door trying to hamper my locomotion. The door on my office here at the radio station has been getting rather capricious over the last few months. Sometimes my key works, sometimes it doesn't. It's aggravating, as this door doesn't even have the heat to blame as an excuse because it is in an air-conditioned environment (I almost said climate-controlled, but that would be a great overstatement of the Texas small business's ability to control temperature and humidity within its own premises).

I am convinced I'd have the same problem with the lock on my car door as well, if not for the fact that last year the driver's side lock ceased to function entirely. And every mechanic I talk to says it'd take over 200 bucks to fix. Well screw that noise, I can just not leave anything worth taking in my car, and on long absences (like the airport) I can lock it before closing and then just gain entrance through the passenger side and reach over and unlock it from the inside. I learned the hard way more than 10 years ago not to leave valuables in my car. A locked door doesn't stop thieves from smashing a window, even in the middle of a movie parking lot with hundreds of cars around, and the potential for discovery literally any given second. This is also why I'm not replacing the malfunctioning radio in my car... any replacement radio will look very nice and be very easily removed from the dash (again with a crowbar)... and I don't listen to the radio all that much. So I just have a $10 radio shack radio tucked into the sun visor that suits my needs.

Anyway, I digress.

It's like some kind of conspiracy of locks to inconvenience me. My deadbolt is ESPECIALLY sticky when I'm carrying groceries in. It won't budge unless I put ALL the groceries down on the ground, so it can all fall over on its side, so that I can properly muscle the lock open.

I just know that bastard is waiting to break off my key inside of it. It's just a malevolent bitch, I can tell.

Go Time!

Wasabi Poptart — Sat, 07 Aug 2010 01:56:57 GMT

Dear Powers that Be -

Release the results of the board soon. You are being cruel by withholding the results. The Mr. is a little on edge which is giving me the urge to smack him. Plus if he gets this promotion maybe we won't have to move after all. Also, this week being my finals week means you are going to have to promote him. Why? Because something always happens during my finals week that adds to my stress level. Usually both kids are sick. Considering both are well (at the moment and it had better stay that way), I'd say the promotion is coming since that means he will be gone for the majority of the next month.

Stop dicking around.
Your faithful, yet extremely stressed, friend
Wasabi

Why do I care?

David — Thu, 05 Aug 2010 06:47:07 GMT

The train wreck finally hit. Many of us saw it coming a mile away, but she was either too arrogant or too head over heels to care. We tried to gently push her to see it, but she just didn't want to let go. Sometimes you wish above all else to be proven wrong. This time, wishes were not granted.

She's come to her conclusion of what she must now do. There's nothing wrong with her decision, mind you. She's set her course for her future happiness, and I hope she finds it. It's really none of my business, either way. So why does it bother me? This really isn't the kind of girl to get attached to. Not the kind of girl you'd bring home to meet mother.

Why can't I let go?