... And the Code of Bushido

JERIC EDIT: This was written about...uh... three weeks ago... my bad....

This past weekend was pretty darn different than my past… well I’m too tired to count, but quite a bit different. On Thursday, March 6^th, 2008 at 8:05 PM I re-opened a part of my life that I haven’t really touched in 7 months. The L5R’s. If you are curious about it, Google it. I ended up talking both Nik and Tim to get back into the game with me. So it’s pretty much a learning experience for all of us to get back on that horse. Thursday night was stay at home and rest/ move some shit night. I cleared out some of the big things in my room and moved them into the now defunct dining area. Not like we actually ate there anyways, but it was a nice spot to put the mail.

Friday I woke up an hour later than I normally do, which isn’t all that great for my dreams of sleeping in. The early parts of the day were pretty boring as I did the dishes and laundry, while reading up on my Clan’s new cards and strategies. Nik was going to meet me over at the game store after work, so I got cleaned up and met up with Tim and rolled over to the game store. To my surprise, there were quite a few L5R players hanging around.

Now if you haven’t been around this type of gamer, let me bring you up to speed. They are usually pretty socially inept when it comes to non-gamers, they can rarely make eye contact, and odds are most of you won’t get their jokes. Trust me they are usually very funny, but you need to know all of the nerd crap to be able to decipher the code. I should make a nerd decoding ring, a nerd Rosetta stone if you will. That way normal people don’t feel awkward watching some dude in a star trek shirt almost die of an asthma attack due to something funny he said about the different between the Borg and a toaster. Another thing about them is that they sometimes have a looser definition of personal hygiene. This naturally occurring gamer effect is known as “Gamer Funk”. Other than a couple other setbacks, they are a great group of people and SHAME THE FUCK ON YOU for not hanging out with them in high school. You’d probably be a better person now.

So we roll into the shop and quite a few people haven’t seen me in a while so I was warmly welcomed back to the store. Tim picked his new clan and picked up a starter and a couple boosters. We get a brief intro into the current “meta-game”, which is just a fancy way to say which deck is kicking the shit out of the others right now. We sit down and Tim watches a few games being played to try to jump start his memory. He has to bail though because he had to bartend and he needed a shower before he rolled in. Nik shows up gets an even bigger welcome than I did and we sit down and play a few games. Shortly thereafter, our friend Paul showed up, I got him a deck and had him play Nik. Paul is a DND friend of mine who used to also play L5R. I hadn’t seen him in a while because of my yearly gaming Hibernation. Jesse rolled in just after 7 and he sat down and we played a quick game. I was looking good to win, but I then I blew way too many cards on a combo and I ended up having to concede.

Jesse had to go back to work, so I and the rest of the guys went to red robin for a burger. It was nice to spend some time catching up on what we’ve been doing over the past year, most of the conversation was directed to Paul about his new girlfriend, who for as far as we know, is not bat shit crazy, which is rare for him.

She does however have a baseball style system of relationships. If you lie to her 3 times, you are out. So apparently Paul ended up blowing 2 out of the 3 in the past year.

The first one was caused by his fear of admitting that he was a gamer. The gamer community, especially the DND community looked upon as some sort of whack job cult full of Goth weirdoes who are sacrificing goats to some demonic presence. When in reality, you uh… roll dice. I’ve seen some dice with skulls on them, that is about as satanic as we can get. When he was first talking to her, before they had their first date, she called him while we were at a convention in Milwaukee. Me and Klister were in the room looking up random rules or items in our various books. Paul stood by the window looking out over the city while talking to her, when he said, “Oh, I’m sorry I can’t go out tonight or tomorrow, I’m down in mikwaukee…long pause…. Oh I’m down here to visit a friend, we’re going to go out drinking at….”

I could see that he is struggling with a bar name, considering Paul hadn’t had a beer in like… 6 years. “The Safe House” I yelled from my bunk.

“The Safe House,” he replied and there were a few moments of silence, “ Yeah I’m not really much of a drinker, I’m more like their father figure... you know being the responsible one.” To this I shot out of my bunk and got in his face and gave him the most “did you really just sell me out like that you whore?” look I could muster. From the top bunk Klister spouted” HAY DAD CAN I BORROW THE CAR!?”

Paul turned beet red and had to go finish the conversation in the privacy of the bathroom, because he knew the shit storm of us giving him… well …shit that was far from being over.

She eventually found out he was a hardcore nerd, so strike one.

So at dinner we asked him what the second strike had been. He nonchalantly says,” I told her my mom was dead.” We almost all spit out our respective drinks and food in shock and he responds, “Well for all intents and purposes she’s dead to me, so I figure it wasn’t really stretching the truth. “

We ate our food and bailed for the firehouse. It was a really dead night for a Friday, so we were able to get some preferential treatment from the girls. I had a Smithwick’s, and it was good, but I can’t seem to just absorb them the way I can spotted cow. The cow and I are kindred spirits in the way of fun. So we get in like a million games of dice in a half an hour. We had like 5 or 6 bombs just out of nowhere, in addition to our beers of justice. So we needed a chance to slow down. Then it hit us. I think I was the one who stifled the first yawn. Then Nik followed. Shit, we were tired. One would assume that the bombs we had would keep us going and full of energy, but when you drink like 3-4 cans a night, you sort of build a tolerance to its energizing effects. So Nik and I bailed and I got back to the house. I had the house to myself, so what do I do? I spend most of the night organizing my cards and reading on strats. Yeah I know, I live dangerously.

I got up Saturday and I had to go into work. Which was horrible, there was nothing to do all day and I asked my boss to give me some extra work, and there just wasn’t anything there. So I promptly escaped at 8. I got home and I realized I was super lazy. I got into my shorts and climbed on to the couch and tried to find Tim a deck type. His favorite deck type had been changed, so I needed to find a good compromise between new and old. My phone was still on silent from work. I was supposed to meet Nik out, but the couch was so warm and cozy. I got up and got to my phone. 8 new text messages! WHAT THE CRAP. 3 new messages from Nik, asking where the hell I was and if I wanted to talk card shop tonight. 2 were from klister asking if I wanted to go to tim’s bar for a beer or two… dozen. Rubi hit me up reminding me it was pajama night at the fire house. A cell phone bill text snuck in and the last one was from that nuts girl I introduced you to in a previous blog and how she wanted go out and get crazy. Which if you think about it for a second, isn’t really hard, because well… she is crazy.

So I decide to get dressed and wheel over to Tim’s bar to see what’s up with Klister. He was just finishing up his beer, and I suggested we have a beer at the fire house to make an appearance and see Nik for a bit. We rolled down and it was packed, so we scored some cows and sat down with Nik at a table at the side of the bar. The owner Rob, Who is cool as shit by the way, showed up and shot the shit with us for a bit and wanted us to go bar hopping, but I had already made a mental block saying no to more than a drink. So after we killed our respective drinks, we had to roll out. Klister needed to get Drew to go pick up the new Super Smash Brothers Brawl, and me and Nik decided on talking card shop back at my place. We lost Nik to some spooky spins, so we rolled out, I dropped klister and Drew off at Klister’s car. I drove back home and realized that I had not had a single damn thing to eat all day. I decided my body was going to need something to keep it going, so I saddled up and headed for ronnies. Nik ended up wanting food too, so I scored him a couple of his favorite “Double Cheesies”. He got to my place and ended up crashing on my couch not too long after. Then a text storm started from various people, when all I wanted to do was sleep. I climbed into bed and passed out.

Life is funny at times, as far as what it throws in front of you and what it pulls away. It’s often hard to tell if what happens is a good kick in the nuts to bring you to some good ending or if it just kicks you in the nuts because it can. I often wonder if the torture my mind puts me through at times is really torture or if it’s some form of preparation for the days ahead. Either way it sucks right now.

But here’s to the week ahead, a vacation, a move, and a reunion all in one week. It’s going to be different that’s for god damn sure. Catch you folks on the flip side.

-Jeric

...And the Great Escape

Howdy,

I haven't said that in a while so I reckon it's about time. It's been a hell of a week. My nerd ties have been brought back into swing as we've been rocking out to l5r for quite a bit this past weekend. It's good to be back doing something that keeps my mind sharp. This week was our big spring break type escape. We decided back in december that we really wanted to see an Irish Punk Band in person. We didn't have enough time to go see Flogging Molly, however we were able to make it to the Dropkick Murphys. Here is our tale...

I awoke to the sound of my new phone freaking out on my recliner. I crawl out of bed and check the time. 9:15. That time comes rather quick when you pass out at 05:45. I dug around for my pants and a t-shirt. Tim was getting ready for his internship that I had to bring him to, so I plopped down on the couch and waited for him to get ready. We got out to the car and hit the open road, looking for untold adventures. We instead were tailed by a cop who wanted to "scare me straight" after I was doing 32 in a 25. Fucker followed me for like 5 blocks. I was waiting for his lights of hate to pop on and then deal with explaining how he was a dick for sitting at a 45 to a 25 intersection and how my de-acceleration was due to me just seeing the sign, not his big scary unmarked squad car. I eventually drop Tim off at work and roll back to the house. I had to get my clothes for the trip and get my shit ready. Its nearing 12:00 and all of the fucking hot water was gone due to the washing machine I guess. God damn terrorists. I bite the bullet and get in the shower. Half way through the water kicks in and burns the shit out of me. My junk might never be the same. I got redressed and picked up little Timmy from a live remote, but not before being accosted by the crazy chick who was mentioned previously.

We eventually escape, get our shit in the car and head over to pick up Nik.We rock out for most of the way down, taking occasional breaks to call Nik Gay or for some reason people nailing my mom. So we let the good times roll and eventually get to Chicago which is a Nascar race in and of itself. We were staying in this Days Inn that required us to use valet parking, so I surrendered the keys to the Stallion and we explored around the hotel. I guess Chicago is much like the good ole' US of A in the respect that what they call a queen size bed, is not what we call one. It was more like a cot or some shit. We ended up getting down there late so pre-concert drinking wasn't going to be accomplished. We hitched up a taxi and headed on over. We pulled up in front of this old looking theater, which looked very damn similar to Green Bay's Meyer Theater. The letters on the sign read "DROPKICK MURPHYS SOLD OUT" We got into entry line and 15 minutes later we had beers and were listening to the rocking tunes of "Everybody Out!"

Every time I go to a show I'm usually really into the opening act, Everybody Out! was no different. They were rad as shit and when the Lead singer just says "aw Fuck it" and stage dives, you know it's quality. We moved on to Big D and the Kids Table. We ended up meeting this girl named Angie, who was looking for a strapping young lad such as myself to protect her from the occasional mosh pit ass jockey who randomly comes shooting out of a pit and ends up ruining the show for the people who don't have anger management issues or who are mentally challenged. We ended up getting caught in middle of a spontaneous pit that erupted from rejects from the main pit. This is one of those times that I think I was born in the wrong era of human history. I get a huge rush from defending and if you ask Nik, he'll tell you I make one hell of a human shield. I have a supernatural grace for being a big guy and I am able to block, shove and hold my own against most things that were thrown at me.

Dropkick eventually comes on and things get fucking insane. There was a couple who were maybe 5 people down who watched me work my magic as far as protection go. The girl was kinda cute in my book. They eventually work their way to me and the guy asks"hey, can you watch my girlfriend for me while I go mosh?" Well I didn't mind so I said "sure thing" Things are a bit rowdy and then the theme for "Shipping up to Boston" comes on. The shit hits the fan and once again I am in middle of the pit, this time with the girl. "Get behind me" I yell and I slowly start to edge us back to the front, but before I can get us out, I'm charged by a drunk idiot. I shove him hard out of my path.

This inspires one of the great stories of my days. Something my dad would be proud of, even if it didn't involve me being banned from a state. He spins around and looks at me and decides to charge me head on. I tap the girl behind me, motioning for her to take a step back. The guy gets within my reach and I cold cock him, sending a punch flying right where his collar bone meets his neck. He sputters and stumbles back a few steps. He regains his composure and decided to get up in my face. This guy was a good 7 inches shorter than me and bald with a sqaure beard, it was like punching that guy from System of a Down. He figures he can play the intimidation card on me, you know because he looks like that guy from the BYOB band. Didn't work so he grabs at my arm to attempt to throw me into the pit. I instead whip him onto the ground into the crowd behind me. He stumbles and almost takes a digger into the pavement, he gives me one last defeated look at disappears into the crowd. The girl taps me on the back and I turn my ear to her. "holy shit" she exclaims.we survive the show. It was fucking incredible. I got to hear my favorite song "dirty glass", which made the trip that much more amazing.

We wander out into the night and like 8 million people cheer at me or have comments to say about my superman shirt. We started to follow Nik's Mapquest directions to a bar called "Exit". We're walking and Nik gets ambitious and reads ahead.
"well I think we may need a cab..."
"Why?" i asked.
"Cause it says to get on I90..."
"I'm not built to go that fast, Nik" I replied.

Tim, Nik, and I flag down a taxi and get over to the Exit. It's a pretty cool bar as its got this sort post apocalyptic theme. I could have been a bar in Mad Max. It has old motor cycles all over the place. Lighted gas masked were strewn throughout the bar, and the bar itself was made of stainless steel grating. We started drinking and I realized that the beer here tasted funny. Like not HA HA HA ITS FUNNY, but man this shit tastes funny, sort of funny. Nik naturally finds an attractive bartender and gets to work with his technique. We explore the bar and find a candle lit shrine to Chuck Norris. Rad. We have a few more beers then head over to a diner called "The Hollywood" While we're waiting for our orders, we got to watch the BP across the street get robbed. 10 minutes after the robber got away, the fuzz showed up and started trying to detect or something. We get out into another taxi and headed back to the hotel.


-Jeric

...And the Golden Shamrock

If there’s one thing I’m not good at, it is relocating. I often get too used to my habitat and it feels like too much work to go out and create a new living environment. But it’s a realization that I am faced with now as I’m supposed to be moving in about a week and some change. I’ve got most of my non essentials packed up. Now I just need to secure a moving truck and a date and we’ll be in business. It’s been a pretty normal week so far. I had a small coma which was well needed, as it gave me a little more than 12 straight hours of sleep.
Monday night I went bowling, drinking on an empty stomach. Drinking my normal amount had a much more powerful effect on me. Before my lackluster bowling match, I stopped at the fire house for a round or two with Tim and Rubi. We were “treated” to some authentic Wisconsin karaoke, which was pretty much as awful as you can get. We met up with Nik at bowling and after my abysmal night of throwing that ball, we went out for margaritas with Erin, Amber, and a couple other fire house people. Erin had bailed shortly before I got there so it was just me, Nik, Amber, Tim, and a guy named Brian. We talked about the previous weekend and at some point I brought up a tale of a woman we call BC. I’m pretty darn sure I’ve mentioned her before, but at this time I’m unable to check the logs. Anyways she kept trying to get us to go up into her apartment for drinks and on Saturday during the nerd drinking session she invited all of us to go back to her house. That’s like 35 or so people. In a moment of weakness I spouted out something to the effect of it’s the largest group of nerds to simultaneously lose their virginity in history. Amber choked on her margarita, Nik went for the high-five and I think Brian was contemplating the logistics of the event. We hung around til close then headed for the barn.
Tuesday was my coma day, not much to note there.
Wednesday I got done with work and changed and headed down to the bar, where the dice gods decided to take a massive shit in my cereal. I couldn’t roll anything to save my life so I was bent over for a round of drinks and barely scraped by on the 1 on 1 show downs. It was arts and craft night as Amber and Erin colored a shamrock gold for me so I could have casual week on the cheap, considering I’m already invested for like 36 bucks in the MDA make a wish foundation way of America. Most of the night was spent conversing with Rubi or helping Tim create a firehouse St Patty’s day shot. I created an “Irish Drive by” which was Jameson, Bailey’s, and a sprits of regular Doctor. It was like a goofy tasting Shamrock shake. Tim tried to make a rainbow drink, but it turned out black and “Taste the Rainbow” turned into “Frontal Lobotomy” as it gave him a killer headache. We were introduced to Smithwick’s Irish Ale, which is much like my favorite beer, spotted cow. If there’s one thing I love in this world it’s a good ale. Perhaps it’s my severe love of Dwarven culture, but if I have a choice between a lager and an Ale. It’s always going to be ale. It’s funny because I wasn’t much a beer fan growing up, but then I met the rolling rock and much like the peace pipe, it was a gate way beer into other delicious ale highs and lows. Nik rolled in and was crying about he couldn’t see American Idol. We proceeded to give him the once or twice around of “you know how I know you’re gay” jokes and then went on to our business. We ended up eating two pizzas because it was the only thing that could make Tim “think good”. He may never be able to count past 10 but that’s cool, he can still name any song he hears.

Our post drinking debates often lead to our respective defects as humans, what can we say, we’re self hating bastards. We pretty much pick apart any part of our lives be it love, dress, or just general dumb shit. After that heated debate it was time to crash.

So here I am, a day older and after the experiences I’m hopefully a day wiser.
I’m not sure if it’s just me, but once in a while I get one of those weeks, where you constantly feel like you’re forgetting something, but when you check into it, you realize you’re all set, but that nagging feeling insists. That was pretty much how I felt all of the week. I also managed to blow an assload of money over the past week or so, some of which was used to purchase Lego’s. You don’t spend nearly as much when your ass is glued to a computer chair and you make a little digital character move around the screen for hours on end. I sometimes miss those days, because I really liked the game and I was very good at it, but part of me remembers why I was bound to that chair in the first place and I’m much happier having my free will back, because its… the right of all sentient beings. Little Optimus Prime for you.
One of the things I really miss is doing Dork stuff. Playing DND and L5R have been some of the happiest times of my life, and I would really like to get back to those days, but DND was killed for me at Gencon, mainly because my group fell apart. My L5R career comes and goes in cycles, but I’ll be a Crab player till I die. I hear they are doing well, so I might try to jump back on the band wagon and see what I can’t come up with. Maybe I can get Nik to come out of retirement and get a decent play group back together. I’d like to find something to do that isn’t drinking all of the time, but I can’t look badly at drinking, because it has provided me several good memories as well.

I guess that’s something I’ll have to figure out. Anyways, I’m out.
-Jeric

...And the Bed Bugs

Dreams. Everyone has them. Some people don’t like to have them because they fear death by a burned, knife fingered man. I don’t happen to live on Elm Street, so I’m able to dream freely. More recently I’ve been having some pretty messed up dreams. It could be the fact that I’ve been drinking quite a bit recently, but I don’t want to hide behind that excuse. Anyways here’s a dream that I had last night that carried into today.
Jeric, PRIVATE DECTIVE.
So this dream involved Erin from the fire house. She was trying to become a ring announcer for the world wrestling federation and someone was trying to kill her before she could sign the contract and make history. She hired me to find out who might be behind the nefarious plot. For most of the dream I was tumbling around, just sort of rolling about trying to get cover, even when it wasn’t necessary. We were driving around in her car, which for some reason was a blue Toyota from like 1987 so it wasn’t remotely stylish. We rode around town basically going down any alley we could find. I would always dive out of the car and tumble into wall, gun drawn. But we were unable to find any leads. We stopped at her dry cleaners to pick up the suit she was going to wear. It was black and sequined; it was pretty sweet, yet ridiculous at the same time.

She pulled into a gas station and started to pump gas. I looked into the rear view mirror to see the coat hanger pull out of dry cleaning bag. I leapt into the backseat and started to use my karate skills on the hanger, which was an advanced robot that was going to try to kill Erin. I eventually won the mortal battle with the coat hanger and snapped it in half, but I electrocuted myself and passed out.
I think I woke up at this point because when I got back into the story I was now driving a Tan/gold H2 hummer through rush hour traffic chasing behind the shitty blue Toyota and frantically looking into the mirror behind me to see the 3 black SVU’s chasing behind us. In the seat next to me was a massive Samoan dude, who had a long black beard that was intricately braided. In the rear of the H2 were 3 girls covered in yellow slime, like they had just escaped from nickelodeon studios. They were screaming and crying. “Hang on!” I yell and I climb out the window and on to the roof of the Hummer. I tumble to the back of the truck, and with my gun drawn; I fire six quick shots into the first SUV. The vehicle loses control and spins out taking out another SUV with it, only leaving one left hot in pursuit.
The hummer starts to spin out as well and I start to make my way back to the wheel. I swing into the window and back into the seat and I pushed the petal to the metal. I look back into the mirror and apparently the motion had made one of the girls hurl, but she hurled complete lucky charms, which was odd, because they were dry. I looked back to the road in front of me as we weaved through the cars. Out of the corner of my eye I see the Samoan guy push a button on his watch. Erin’s back tires explode and she spins helplessly out of control, sparks and smoke start to fill the air. I punched the Samoan in the face, but he’s Samoan, so it didn’t really help. I get as close as I can to her spinning car and reach out and pull her out of the driver’s side, never slowing down in the process. I open my door and swing her in. “Hold the wheel” I yell, as I open the Samoan’s door and start to push him out the door, but he’s Samoan, so it’s not easy. I get it one last push and we both go out the door.
I catch the seatbelt, and his leg gets trapped in the door. I proceeded to rub his face against the moving ground, grinding his face off. I kicked at his legs, eventually getting them free. He flopped out of the door and flew into the SUV behind us, the driver swerved to avoid the man but crashed into a city bus and came back across bursting through the bridge’s cement boundaries, and fell hopelessly into the river. I closed the door and we drove back to the house where she successfully signed the contract. I worked my way upstairs to make sure the threat was gone, when I found the Samoan guy in one of the guest rooms. I drew my gun and pointed it at his fat head. He was packing a duffel bag. “Don’t shoot!!!” Erin cried. She ran in and hugged the guy. “That’s not possible, “I said, not lowering my weapon,” he doesn’t have a scratch on him.”
“Because that wasn’t him!” and hugged him tighter.
I shrugged and she signed the contract again for some reason. Just another day’s work as a… PRIVATE DECTIVE. QUE BITCHIN’ MUSIC!
So I’d like to see you find a book that explains that dream, because it’s pretty fucked up on many levels. However, I can’t deny that it was horribly entertaining.

Later,

-Jeric

...And the Once Upon a Time

If there is one thing in this world that I believe, it’s that we can’t know where we are going if we do not know where we have been. Often our experiences define us as people. If you have a bad memory of eating at Wendy’s, odds are when you’re hungry you will choose some other place to fill your cellulite needs. I like to think that our best memories are indicators of who we are as a person. If your favorite memory is of you and your family out camping at the lake, it shows that you put that commitment first and foremost in your life and you value their time much more than others. If your favorite memory is of you hitting your first hit while on the varsity team, it shows that you look fondly at the practice, skill and determination you had to cultivate to achieve that goal. I figure you being the faithful reader you are, deserve some insight into me as a person. Just a bit though because I don’t want this to go to your head.
It was my Senior Home coming dance. Yeah I know this sounds sort of gay… but it gets better, so don’t you fucking judge me yet. I was taking one of the most influential people of my life to the dance, Jackie. In addition to having the privilege of taking her, I had talked my boss at the time to let me take one of the company’s BMW Z3 roadsters to the dance, which at the time was one of the coolest cars around. So I saddled up in a new outfit, it was a blue sweater and really nice kaki dress pants. I looked good… but Jackie looked amazing, in her little black dress. We came… we saw… and we kicked that dance’s ass. Afterwards in traditional Wisconsin fashion we had to get obliterated. We had a cabin that was out in the middle of the woods that we would frequent 3-4 times a year and just hang out and get crunk. So I drove the tiny little BMW through the woods and through a farm field to our little secluded part of the world were teenage drinking was totally cool. We were the last ones to show up… I know that sounds great for me… well not really. Jackie had to change and let her dog out, so we were a little late.

We rolled in and were welcomed by cheering. We walked into the cabin. Now when I was younger, my friends LOVED that UV blue raspberry vodka. So it was basically all we drank that or Malibu, Both of which I refused to drink to this day. Me and Jackie each grabbed a bottle and take a couple of solid pulls then make our respective drinks. We spread out and start to mingle with our other friends. Now being a high school party, even up in our secluded neck of the woods, you could find the chiba, the chronic, the sticky icky. Choose your nickname for it as you will, but it was there. I’m a straight shooter in that respect that I will not touch any controlled substance except for the sauce o’course. So Jackie is slightly a hippie so she went out there with them and decided to partake in a puff or two. She came back inside the cabin and looked a lot different then she had when she went out. She motioned for me to go join her outside. I had gotten into a game of cards, but laid my hand down and headed for the door. I joined her outside. Now a brief description of this cabin… Deathtrap. It was a log cabin, but parts of it had aluminum siding from like 1930. It had 2 rooms which were usually used for pre-marital sexual encounters, a living room, and a kitchen/dining area.
So there we were, outside under a starry night… don’t even think about it you fags. Now to give you an image of how we are positioned, I’m standing on the last step of the porch looking eastward. Jackie is standing looking north at the kitchen window. She is probably 3 feet away from it. She starts to tell me something and then time starts to slow down. I can to this day remember everything so vividly, I watch as her eyes roll into the back of her head, revealing pearly white orbs. The smell of the nearby farm fields that had been bailed one last time before the winter could come and savage the land. She had passed out on her feet due to the combination of fast drinking and enjoying a hit or two. She started to fall forward towards one of the few spots on the house had had been covered with aluminum siding and it would tear her soft face up like some retarded, rusty cheese grater. I somehow conjured speed that I’m never sure if I’ll ever be able recreate.
I was off the step in a flash and in front of her catching her fall. This took place during my novice drinking days, because I became the semi of consumption I am today, so I was a little wobbly on the feet and I ended up falling backwards and I crashed into the side of the house. After the initial contact had been made with the cabin I felt the long rusty nail enter the soft flesh of my lower back. The combination of surprise, pain, and momentum lead to me crashing down the side of the cabin and the nail slicing its way up my back. I sat there for several moments holding her there in my arms. She eventually woke up and I got her back inside and on the couch. I would answer the questions about why I was bleeding and what happened outside later. All I needed at that moment was to make sure she was ok and safe. Days later I would tell her of what happened and she’d give me a big hug.
Now I know what you’re thinking. Holy shit dude you just got flayed open by the cabin from hell and you probably ruined a really nice sweater, is your life that sad that that instance was your best memory. Well let me enlighten you fuck heads. It was the first time in my life that I got to save the girl. I grew up watching and reading about heroes doing valorous deeds and saving a damsel in distress and after 18 years of existence, I saved the girl. That hopefully tells you something about me and how it defined me as a person. I’m the guy who’ll be there in a heartbeat to pull you out of a party where you drank a shit load of captain while you were on pain pills for the broken wrist you had received from falling out of your bed and carry you the 5 blocks to the dorms and tuck you in. I’m the guy who at a rock concert will be the shield between you and the oncoming blind rage of the mosh pit. I’ll be there to catch you when you fall.
That’s who I am. That experience shaped my life. I challenge you to go out there and look at your life and look for things about yourself that are that way because of something you were a part of, and embrace it, because without it you wouldn’t be the person that people love you for, and you wouldn’t be the person I want to read my tales.
Thanks for stopping by,
-Jeric

...And the Great Drift

Things change. Hair cuts, dress styles, music tastes, hell pretty much anything about a person can change.It's nice being able to look at my friends and appreciate those changes and how we've grown up together. While this might not be my witty smart ass self, its the truth, I was blessed with a family of friends who would be there for me no matter what. but you're not here to hear me be an emo cry baby. /wrists.

This past week was pretty fucking stupid and partially awesome to say the least. The earlier part of my week was dominated by work. My boss has finally realized my potential and wants to try to push me to bigger and better things. He just really wasn't sure how to do that, so instead of creating projects that would challenge me, he added lots of mini tasks to my workload. The tasks proved to be more time consuming than really challenging. I spent a day pretty much relearning excel since the 2007 office suite fucked it six ways to Sunday. I had my yearly performance evaluation and as expected I passed it flying colors, one can only hope that translates into a bitchin' pay increase. That was the tale of my work week, not so amusing.

My non time in work however was amusing.

Wednesday:
Tim was on a date and I promised Amber that i would swing by the house for a few beers. Well what thing lead to another and before I knew it I was on a beer tasting tour. Here's pretty much how it went down.

I started in Milwaukee with a champagne of beers, moved on to Canada to try some labatte blue. After my journeys in the frozen north, I made my way to Florida for a Landshark. I decided to work my way north to ST Louis for a taste of the rock that rolls, a pony if you will. From there I rode the silver bullet to tap the rockies. I came back to Wisconsin to have a couple of pints of spotted cow. I went back to ST Louis to enjoy a bud light then I hopped on a plane and headed for Ireland, where I was involved in an act of terrorism of sorts. Car bomb you morons...it's a funny joke. I hopped on a puddle jumper and landed in england for a tasty New Castle Brown Ale. I came back to Milwaukee for a miller lite, and I stopped my night in Chippewa Falls for an Applespice. There were also many shots that came from all over the Caribbean, so i pretty much rocked that bitch too.

That night was pretty much a blur of justice. I remember meeting up with Rubi at some point and her giving me a hug that lasted like 3 minutes while we talked. Me and Rubi are homeslices so any time I get to talk to her is time well spent. I really admire her for all she's done and what she's capable of in the future.

This was one of those nights that I appreciate being single and confirms that I'm a creature that is often best left to his own devices.

Oh yeah I won 40 bucks in spooky spins and Tim and Nik showed up at some point. We all got trashed to the max.

Thursday:
I got all dressed up and made my way to the firehouse where I realized after my previous night I had lost all will to drink. I think I drank like 4 beers all night which is lack luster for a man like me.

Nik felt the same way so we chilled and shot the shit, Julian and Wes showed up and we were attacked by BC who kept trying to get us to go back to her place. I was like being around a child molester who was trying to coax me and Nik into her rape van. Amber didn't have to work and she wanted us to go to a place called the sardine can, but we opted to call it an early night. I went over to Tim's bar and I had a beer there and ended up helping him and the other guy close down the bar.

We braved the snow and got some movies and me some medication, because like the idiot I am I took a drag off of a cigarette and I pass out.

Friday:
I slept in a little bit, but then get up and get some business done.I had to get some cash from the bank and get some new reading material because if I don't have something to read thats either really engaging or new to me, I go apeshit. As I was picking up a few magazines and a book, Nik gives me a hollar and wants to go get something to eat. I tell him lets go to the tilted kilt at 6. I head home, poke Tim who was sleeping in the couch, he literally had all of the pillows on top of him.I dug him out and loaded him into the car. We had a bitch of a time finding a parking spot so we had to park in a little town called buttfuck,Egypt. We got inside and Nik was waiting for us.

One thing I may have forgotten to mention is that part of Nik's Charm is his assholeness. While some may say, why is that remotely charming? well it reels in chicks left and right so he's doing something right, perhaps it's his salt or oregano depending on your spice preference.

Anyways in case you've never heard of this tilted kilt, it's like hooters mixed with the Scottish. So rather attractive women exposing their god given assets in plaid skirts. Our waitress was pretty good looking so I knew Nik would do something stupid. The waitress gets our drink order and then offers us some starter foods. she said," would you be interested in an appetizer such as Nachos,Onion Rings or a bowl of chicken noodle soup?" Nik cocked his head and asked," When did soup become an appetizer?" She tried to stand her ground, but then Nik turned on his "charm" and she said something smug under her breath. The experience after that went down hill, Nik and Tim ordered Black and Tans and ended up getting 90% Black 10% tan which was not so awesome. My order was completely fucked.When things were all said and done the damage of the experience totaled at 50.93 and being the decent tippers we are, we were going to leave it at 60 bucks and call it even, but Nik wanted to make sure she never offered soup again as an appetizer. so when she came back he told her she could keep the change if she did one thing for him. He stated his case and she said she couldn't promise it, then Nik said "well how about then saying an appetizer or perhaps some soup."

She said,"how about i go get your change."

That was not what Nik wanted to hear.

She makes another waitress give us our change and Nik pulls out our change and finds a quarter in his pocket and puts it into the bill book that people put the tip into.

Nik wanted to make this bitch an example. Overall between the Nik/Waitress battle, the fucked up orders, the fucked up drinks, and pretty much the fucked up experience, I can honestly say... Fuck that place.

I dropped Tim off so he could go to work, and then I headed back out into the night. I went over to the firehouse. Now this makes me sound like an Alchoholic, but in reality, I really enjoy the atmosphere and I know all of the bartenders so well that it's not like going out, its meeting up with my family. Nik shows up and we roll some dice and get into our swing. Julian joins us again and we hit up a new bar in town. Nik wins 350 off of 20 bucks in his spooky spins allotment. I end up bailing and going back to the fire house and hang out with Rubi. She's having sort of a rough night and I don't mind being there to give a good bear hug or lighten things up with a joke. In fact, theres probably no other place in the world I would have rather been. Eventually close is called and I head home and go straight to bed, My voice is trashed and I needed to try to save what I could.

Saturday:

Most of the day was spent in a chemical induced coma thanks to go the good people at the Tylenol cold and flu company. I finally got up and got cleaned up. We got me some more medicine, because everyone loves to self medicate. We went to the mall to get Tim some pants.

We were going to watch the UFC fight at BW3's, but they had an hour and a half wait. we put out names down and checked out hooters. no good seats by the TV's. I suggested why not have the firehouse show it? They have a big screen projector and a 15 foot screen. I made Tim call Amber to see if she'd do it. Amber being the raddest chick ever said that it'd be a cool with her. So we sped to the firehouse to see if we could make it work. upon arriving I discovered a serious problem. The dish box needed to be connected to a phone line, the nearest phone line was 15 feet away with a 3 foot cord. We gave up and got back to Bw3's to get out table. Turns out they gave it away a half an hour ago. well fuck me sideways. By this time we are joined by Nik. We split into two teams. Team GI Joe would stay at BW3 (Tim/Klister) and wait for the table so they couldn't bone us something righteous again. Team Cobra Commander (Me/Nik) would go get a huge ass phone line and try to save the day on the Firehouse front. We rushed to target and as usual get the oldest fucking cashier known to man, shes clear from the Jurassic era and thus take 40 days to ring something. We get into the car and rush to the firehouse, the Mission Impossible theme rocking out in my head.

I get there and start to string cable and I get it all hooked up and then it doesn't fucking recognize the modem. So then I restart the whole thing and check for a Dial Tone. Should be all set. Well then the fucker Says the card won't allow it. Well shit. I Promise I'll have it working for the next fight so they can get it in the local paper ad. We race back to BW3's and are seated shortly into the fights. We order a hundred wings, but could only kill 80. thanks Tim for being a giant pussy on us. Not to point fingers or anything you dick. We rolled out and enjoyed another night of good times at the fire house. Me and Rubi play batphone since she can't hear me over the music, so I have to text her stuff. This one guy buys 30 jager bombs and we givem hell. We get the fuck out at close, score SG1 season 1 from wal-mart and go home. That wraps up my weekend.

'til next time, please spay or neuterer your pets

-Jeric