First Blog post... Evar!

Alright! I've always wanted the opportunity to find revelry in the complete narcissism of my very own blog. However lacking the fortitude to independently start my own blog, you can imagine my ecstatic surprise, when I discovered that this wonderful site caters to exactly such a need. Not only can I meet good people, not only can I partake of the wonderful Halo ladders, but I can BLOG! So I shall drink the blogging wine, and poor some for you as well. Perhaps when we are both deep into our cups the truth may become manifest through the exercise of public reason.

Egregious Introductory banter aside, where to begin...?

The name and gamer tag. Purely satirical, I promise you comrade.

Thanks to everyone in the H2 community for a warm welcome. I've been able to get some good customs in already, and if we have not played yet, please feel free to shoot me a friend request. Which reminds me, I played bad Halo tonight. Oh well. I am looking forward to playing in the 4v4 MLG and 2v2 Halo 2 ladders.

What else...?

Funny anecdote from a few weekends ago:

Let me start by saying in general I have nothing against lesbians. However I absolutely despise dykes. I realize that this statement at first may seem insensitive, but I assure you it has merit. I do not really care about sexuality, and homosexual marriage or any of that. It is really someone's own business who they sleep with and make absurd promises to. In this, lesbians and I have a full understanding. They do not judge my heterosexuality and I do not judge their homosexuality. Dykes on the other hand, are territorial in ways that a man can never be. Dykes challenge men and their manhood constantly. Worse than that muscle bound guy at the gym, whom you know is there just to show off for all the other guys. It is almost like dykes have the need to prove they have larger penises than men. So dykes and I do not get along.

Moving forward, I am a roller derby fan. Luckily I live in the bay area of California, and we happen to have a great all girls roller derby league (www.bayareaderbygirls.com). Now of course as an "alternative" sport, roller derby attracts the "alternative" crowd, which of course in the San Francisco area contains many people of varying sexualities. No problems there. I like an eclectic crowd, makes for good people watching.

So the roller derby joint is crowded. My friend and I get good seats right up against the glass, where there is a nice counter and stools set up just for the beer drinkers. We are both well into our night of roller derby drunkenness, and my friend goes to buy the next round. Not wanting to lose the precious seat next to me to some random mook, I of course take it upon myself to save my friends seat while he procures the necessary libations. While doing this, I am also intently watching the bout, as I am entranced by the roller girls doing their thing.

BAM! Out of the blue, someone slams a mega-can of Fosters down on the counter next to me, landing it right smack dab in the middle of my friend's counter space, as well as spilling beer and froth all over the place. Now this can was slammed with authority, and there can be no doubt, obviously this person was marking their territory. Spilling their beer strategically, as a dog does its urine. What a terrible slight against my character! For this person to assume that I would sit idly by while they stole my friend's seat, not only have they insulted my chivalric sensibilities, but they have also spat upon social etiquette. Neither of these actions would stand! No sir! I would indeed teach this person a thing or two! Now having had a few drinks and feeling a little stouter than I actually am, I quickly turned around, whipped off my glasses and presented the most austerely mean face I could muster. It is at this point that I realized who I was up against, and my attempt to dissemble ruggedness upon that person dissolved like a slug under kosher salt.

Before me, with her arm around her main squeeze (a petite attractive looking lesbian in her mid twenties), stood a dyke. Thirty to Thirty-Five years in age, dressed in a standard blue collar get-up, dusty Wolverine boots, flannel work shirt, Carhart construction pants. The entire ensemble is capped with a shaved head and a light dusting of drywall cement. From her muscular shape, that nearly put mine to shame, it quickly became evident, that she had either just finished out hammering John Henry on the railroad, or fully dry walled an entire thirty story office building by herself. Needless to say, my stern visage quickly crumbled, revealing the demure truth beneath it. Unfortunately for me, it was far too late to withdraw my mean face, and the dyke had perceived my initial intent unambiguously.

She sneered for a moment, sizing me up. Her arms flexed around her girl as to stretch and prepare their muscles for the pounding they were about to deliver to my jaw, when I manage to mutter

"...that seat is taken..." in a broken childlike voice, as I stared at the dyke's Wolverines.

"Well excuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuse me!" She proclaims in a loud and unabashed voice. Then just as quickly as she appeared, she scooped up her Fosters, and her girl, and walked off, quickly being enveloped by the sea of social misfits.

Less than a minute later my friend returns, beer in hand.

"What did that dyke want?" He asks, disdain apparent in his voice.

"She wanted your seat, but I told her to kick rocks." I say, in my best tough guy impersonation.

I was also accosted by a midget rockabilly king and his two stooges at the same roller derby bout. But that is another story.


Until that day,


- The_R3d_Scare