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*thwack*
Friggin love Borderlands.
Steam: bain_nick Add me, maybe we can play something together.
League of Legends: NA Server: Bainick
The problem with HM/RF games for me, is the opposite of my issues in real life.
Our story takes place at the turn of the century, the summer of 2000. My roomate at the time, who I will refer to as Panza which was my nickname for him because he's Latino and a bit chubby, had just gotten off of house arrest for a stupid burglary charge I still make fun of him for to this day. It was decided that to properly celebrate this momentous occasion a trip to the gentlemen's club was required but at Panza's request the crew agreed to postpone the trip a few days. There was a girl he had become friendly with during his court allowed trips to class who was insisting he come visit her at the club she worked at once he had paid his debt to society, but she only worked weekends.
Friday arrived and the crew gathered together, had some drinks, smoked some trees, and hit the road to the promised land. Besides Panza and I the only member of the crew you need to know is Foolio, a friend from elementary school who will become more important later on, just remember that he was here. We arrived at the club without incident, but while waiting in line did watch a drunken non-english speaking Mexican fall into and knock over the ashtray by the door. We helped his goup convince the bouncer that it was purely an accident and that he wasn't too intoxicated to be trusted to act in a classy manner towards the lovely women who were to entertain us.
We entered the club and ended up having to grab a table on one of the aisles as the place was packed, I guess lonely gentleman feel even more lonely on a Friday night. Panza's friend found us just minutes after we were seated. She told us she'd check in on us periodically to make sure we were having fun and that she'd tell the other girls to treat us kindly, and told Panza to make sure that before we left he got his last lapdance from her.We ordered drinks and watched a couple dances and then there's a commotion at the stage behind us causing us to turn and see what's going on. The guy who was in front of us in line had found a seat at that stage and then proceeded to vomit upon it and was being tossed out.
While we were turned around a group of guys took seats at the table across the aisle from us. Panza nudges me and gives a chin point towards the group whispering, "Weebles, that's the effing elroy that hauled me into county."
I looked around the table at the group and it dawns on me that all the guys sitting there are DPD. I'm positive of this because before they moved the police station in town it was right next door to the Tower Records I worked at. We gave the cops discounts and had all the public-relations purposes trading cards up by the registers so they could claim their discount even if they were in plainclothes. As I'm relating this information to Panza one of the cops leans forward revealing the previously hidden midget cop.
We tell the crew that midget cop is in the house to much amusement, then we get down to the serious business of gawking at buckid nekkid girlies and deciding who we want to take trips to the VIP booths with. DPD, being a well trained rapid response team, makes their decisions much quicker and their entire table is empty in about 20 minutes. Some of us start to slip away with chosen girls but about half of us are still at the table including me, Panza, and Foolio, when Panza's friend checks in. She sits in Panza's lap and then complains that she doesn't feel he's enjoying himself much. He tells her she should feel his enjoyment growing exponentially the longer she sits in his lap.
This is when midget cop chooses to make his approach. She had apparently been the one to give him his VIP dance and while she's sitting in my homeboy's lap this brazen little man places his hand on her shoulder, takes a long look at all of us first, and then starts babbling on about "That was great!" and "Do you do bachelor parties?" and "Really, just fantastic!" and "Or maybe private shows?"
She politely explains that this really is just a side gig for her although she's very flattered. Midget cop bounces and we ask her if she knew all those guys were DPD. "Yeah, they're in here all the time" she says.
The rest of the evening is of no importance to this tale and would probably get me boxed (I'm tempted to say crated, my avatar being what it is right now).
So, about two weeks later Foolio and I have a bachelor party to attend. Dude getting married is a good friend of ours since elementary school as well . He's a very commited evangelist christian who's always managed to stay true to his faith and yet be accepting, especially of us knucleheads he grew up with, and will be my homie for life. But we know the type of party we're headed to so we twist up a fat blunt of some fire ahead of time, ensuring that as soon as we leave we can get stoned to the bejeesus belt.
The bachelor party's pretty fun. Weirds me out a little hearing dudes praying with a purpose for about a half hour considering it's, you know, a bachelor party, but it also end's up being the first time I see Boondock Saint's, so the evening isn't a loss. Plus it ends fairly early and we've got the whole night in front of us.
We decide to head to Jack in the Box and are about to spark the blunt for appetite stimulus, when red and blue lights hit us from behind. We're lucky nothings been lit but we're not out of the woods yet. This strain is notoriously stanky, to the point that normally we'd travel with it in the trunk just in case, but tonight knowing we were facing several hours of sobriety we had wanted to be able to put an end to said sobriety quickly.
The cop does the license and registration spiel and asks if Foolio, who was driving, knew he had a tailight out. "No, sir." A fix-it-ticket and we're off to Jack's, spending the rest of the journey there flexing our formidable logic skills. We managed to reason out that it was damn near statistically impossible for us to get pulled over again for the same taillight in the two mile drive from Jack's to Foolio's crib. So we order our food, roll up the windows, and fire up in the drive-thru.
At the window we offered the guy who gave us our food a rip, he laughed but said he was cool, so we sealed up the vehicle and went our merry way, attempting to blow Gandalf caliber smoke rings. Smoked it down to nothing and were about four blocks from Foolio's place when the inevitable happens. Red and blue lights.
We're screwed. The whole car is foggy with smoke and when the officer knocks on Foolio's window and he rolls it down smoke pours into the officers face. Which is just barely high enough for this to happen. It's the midget cop. Again he takes a long look at each of us. Then he directs himself at Foolio and brusquely say's "Taillight's out." Turns around and leaves. No ticket, no nothing.
To this day I am convinced that we were saved by the strip club.
Oh God I'm blogging anime now?!?!?!?!/
28 years of gaming and still going strong
and now a mostly annoyed Father with first son. And now a father again to a second son :D
Winner of the 2015-2016 Fantasy gaming Pool
@shentino: I wasn't the shortest-lived admin, but I was voted most beloved three times in closed elections. Many boardies cited my famous Statler and Waldorf thread as a source of constant inspiration.
\"FFXII doesn't really have a story to tell, and so it doesn't. FFXIII doesn't really have a story to tell, but has hours of cutscenes anyway.\" -SiliconNooB
Oh SNAP! Guess what I saw?
Oh SNAP! Guess what I saw!
OH SNAP!!!!
*peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee......
Spell List
Spell List 2
Oh God I'm blogging anime now?!?!?!?!/
That is all.
The courage to try again...
Twitter: BerryEggs
Oh God I'm blogging anime now?!?!?!?!/
Renting the services of a local game shop's high end polishing machine may also be a good idea as well.
2. Buy a device called a Skip Dr. It's roughly $40. Keep your receipt.
3. Buff all your games, and refill the bottle of cleaner with water.
4. Return the Skip Dr. (in the box) with the receipt.
5. Literally profit.
Radio Shack managers have something called the Unwritten $50 Rule. Basically, if you're wanting to return something that retails for less than $50, they'll accommodate you, no matter what. And if they won't on your first visit, the District Manager will force them to. His number should be on a placard located on or near the counter.
Don't mention the $50 rule, by the way. It's Unwritten.
\"FFXII doesn't really have a story to tell, and so it doesn't. FFXIII doesn't really have a story to tell, but has hours of cutscenes anyway.\" -SiliconNooB
[SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]
"As a gaming enthusiast, people who carry a pro-hacker flag for selfish self-entitled reasons and willfully ignore the damage that rampant piracy does to developers as well as hardware producers don't deserve to enjoy the games and systems that these companies have poured their souls into to produce."
"A late game is only late until it ships. A bad game is bad until the end of time." ~ David Jaffe
It must be better then a mix of Weird Al Yankovich, *shudder* Black Eyed Peas, my own made up game music (which i wish I had the technical skills to create my dance and rock versions of the Silent Hill themes), and all the annoying songs in the top 30.
Oh also, remember, I open presents before most of you
Steam: bain_nick Add me, maybe we can play something together.
League of Legends: NA Server: Bainick
The problem with HM/RF games for me, is the opposite of my issues in real life.
Five Tons of Flax
Hobo
This is starting to look like home again ^^.
\"FFXII doesn't really have a story to tell, and so it doesn't. FFXIII doesn't really have a story to tell, but has hours of cutscenes anyway.\" -SiliconNooB
And then you have N00bs like Shentino who joined just a few months ago and already have more posts then me...Seriously, how do you manage to post that much, guys?