There was a 5-Color event in the wake of the Great Sundering where a player ordered fish and chips requesting white vinegar. The server said fish and chips wouldn’t be coming in until the next day but they could make them now (whiskey tango foxtrot). He received his dish with malt instead of white vinegar and left in a huff, me thinking he’d abandoned those who came with him when he returned with a bottle of white vinegar. We all looked at him curiously when he raised his head and said simply “I’m Canadian”.
Tag: Magic
Acetic Acid Purist
There was a 5-Color event in the wake of the Great Sundering where a player ordered fish and chips requesting white vinegar. The server said fish and chips wouldn’t be coming in until the next day but they could make them now (whiskey tango foxtrot). He received his dish with malt instead of white vinegar and left in a huff, me thinking he’d abandoned those who came with him when he returned with a bottle of white vinegar. We all looked at him curiously when he raised his head and said simply “I’m Canadian”.
Donut Dissociation
I let friends borrow Magic cards for tournaments and received a text asking if I could drop off a few cards to someone who’d forgotten them and to just leave them at his doorstep as he was going to sleep. I gathered the cards, boxed them, and being a swell fellow purchased a dozen donuts for him and his car mates with which I’m friends for there pre-dawn departure the next day. I attached the box of borrowed cards to the box of donuts with packaging tape, affixed a sticky note saying “for Gregg, good luck” to the box of donuts and put the ensemble on the door step.
I texted him the next day asking if the donuts’d gone stale and he replied he’d never received the donuts. His parents had apparently removed the sticky note from the donut box, placed it on the card box, removed the packaging tape binding the two and put the donuts into dry storage in their pantry. When asked by Gregg what happened they simply responded “we didn’t know they were for you”.
Pack Rat vs. Minimalist
I’ve used the three day weekend to clean out a lot of stuff. I got rid of 20 lbs of computer cables, two computers, one sold, one for free and have started shedding books. I’ve accumulated about 80 pounds of RPG books with about 30 pounds of D&D, 35 pounds of Mage: the Ascension and 5 pounds of miscellaneous stuff. I’ve only ever run one long-running campaign in each despite spending hundreds of dollars and dozens of hours crafting stories of such imaginative caliber that experiencing one would guarantee one a place in the afterlife (at least in my head).
I know some of these tomes are worth at least some money but the time involved to recoup pennies for dollars was constantly fighting my urge to simply reduce. I started writing Craigslist posts but they sounded like I was giving away kittens or a child I couldn’t care for; “free to a good home”, “condition: used but loved” and so on. I didn’t have this difficulty with my textbooks when I simply ripped off the covers and threw the remains in Southampton’s Paper Retriever bin at 2 AM in the rain.
If I’m torn over this, there’s a much more painful choice in the future: Magic cards. Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to have them stolen or possibly an electrical fire will wipe them out so I can collect on the Homeowner’s Insurance Policy rider before I ever have to decide how to get rid of them.
Stealth Phone Blunder and Judge Exam Plunder
Surgeon General Warning: This post is largely self-aggrandizing. Skip to the previous post to hear about my brother’s pr()n habits.
I’ve windmill slammed my phone, again. Everything appeared fine until the alarm didn’t go off. Well, it did but produced no sound. I thought I may have just missed it so I set it for 10 minutes and slept for an extra two hours until the stroke of 10:30. As a final check, I set the timer for 3 seconds and when done heard nothing. Hm… until I get it fixed, I’ll have to put it in my pocket with enough change so it’ll jingle.
I get to work in time to miss lunch with coworkers and discover that I have until the stroke of midnight to relearn the rules of Magic and pass the L2 Recertification exam. I started scanning like it was my job, which it is, using the time while documents were going through the ADF to figure out the interaction of continuous effects and re-read the penalty guidelines while taking bathroom breaks. Wizards.com, and most Magic sites are blocked at work as “games” so I prepared by repeatedly hitting the “random” button on magiccards.info. I needed an 80% to pass, took a practice exam got a 67%, cried a little, and started the main exam. 119 minutes and 41 seconds into the 2 hour exam I hit the submit button. I got a 90%. This is the statistical analog of a dog winning “The Weakest Link” because everyone just overlooked him or my brother passing a breathalyzer test because a muon arced some logic chip. Ignoring the CONFIDENTIAL note at the top I printed it out and placed it proudly on fridge. I celebrated with the materials on hand and liberally applied butter cream frosting to a freezer-burnt chocolate waffle. It didn’t taste quite right so I washed it down with the last of the Sparkling Apple Cider left over from New Years.
I hear to get L3 I have to beat an existing L3 in ritual combat and consume their brain to gain their understanding of copying effects and 2HG rules. I recognize this post is largely me congratulating myself but there was no one awake for me to scream to except the now very confused players on my Team Fortress 2 team.
Yu-Gi-Oh! vs. Magic Players
I’ve never played Magic at Six Feet Under Games and bein’ in God’s country I was walking on egg shells to a certain extent. This was amplified when the store owner issued the following warning to a Yu-Gi-Oh! tournament that was about to start:
Attention Yu-Gi-Oh! players. You are the worst bunch of people that are ever in the store. You are foul-mouth, rude, don’t pick up after yourself and are horrible human beings. If you disagree with this, you’re lying and should leave. If you’re anything but polite you’ll be kicked out. If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police. I’m posting the store rules and if you’re under 13 I’ll need your parents permission and want them to know who you hang out with.
Well then. I was a bit concerned until I started yelling “IN YOUR FACE!” at someone I beat without reprecussions. Maybe years from now the pursecution of Yu-Gi-Oh! players will be recorded as one of the moral outrages of the early 21st century.
5-Color Injuries
The 5-Color event went well and Mike and I got to show off our wicked pimp challies including the gayest toast imaginable.
That’s John Jones in the background getting in on the coolness of the moment.
The whole ordeal was improved by Mike’s pimp shirt:
Bling Bling
I don’t know if it’s correlated but, today I woke up to terrible back pain. Sitting hurts, and negotiating a shower requires a kibuki-like dance to cover everything without muscle pain. Apparently I 5-colored harder than I thought. Alternatively, I was attacked by ninjas in my sleep. Based on the lack of damage to my home I fended them off successfully but at some personal cost.
New Prerelease Format
I woke up at 8:20, prepared myself for a day of pre-release and left Totem Lodge at 8:40. I drove to Wawa for two Turkey Sausage bagels, a strawberry milk, and a gallon bottle of water. I drove another 15 minutes and arrived at the tournament venue when a terrible sense of wrongness overcame me: It was 8:55 on the morning of a pre-release and I was still in my car. Normally, by then, I’d woken up at 5:30 AM, reviewed the current set’s FAQ while on the 6:04 AM train with people who didn’t realize the event wouldn’t open until 8:00 AM.
The TO brought pizza and I was done by 4:00 PM. Being used to days at Magic Tournaments that’d scare a 19th century coal miner I couldn’t accept payment. I didn’t run a pre-release I ran a large FNM followed by a booster draft.
Chicago Travel Notes
- The middle seat of a minivan is usually roomier than the front seat if the vehicle was built before 2005.
- Ask anyone going on a long trip if the have bowel problems first, if so give them diapers and ban them from approaching soda machines.
- Never insult the driver, even if he can’t hear you yell at him to avoid the car in the next lane because he has earbuds in.
- Hardee’s makes a great burger, and if it’s your first time, a wonderful solid Draino.
- If they have a big collection of cards, they’re probably fat, if they have good points, they’re probably pale, if they refuse to identify themselves, they’re probably that dick from the forums.
- Never have the last waffle made before the batter is changed at a motel breakfast bar.
- Red Lobster is just nice enough that poor people dress up to go there, like I did as a kid going to the Ground Round.
- Love handles block A/C vents.
- Driving at 85 but stopping every hour to pee or get gas averages out to above 65.
- Chicago has 80 cent tolls. Yep, you heard me, 80 cent tolls. I’ve never left a city with more dimes.
- Two people who are both light sleepers and snore should not share a room.
- Never insult the tournament organizer’s girlfriend.
- Never hit on the tournament organizer’s girlfriend.
- Never hit the tournament organizer’s girlfriend.
- Chicago apparently puts it fountains in bathrooms (broken urinal) while Philly puts them in park squares.
- The driver should not be allowed to participate in the time honored game of holding your breath through a tunnel if the tunnel is more than a mile long…. or there’s traffic.
Pictures coming soon.
A night cap after the pre-release
The pre-release was… interesting. The lesions that developed on the bottom of my right foot during the camporee began bleeding resulting in an interesting pattern on my foot as pieces of sock became embedded an enmeshed in the scab. Thank you, Josh, for taking on Sunday.
In funnier news, I lost my phone and Mykie Noble was nice enough to hold onto it until I could pick it up. As a gift, I placed four bottles of premium handcream in a Shadowmoor box and intended on giving it as thanks. Apparently, I put the box on the roof of my car and it never quite made the journey into the vehicle. Somewhere on Bristol Road, four bottles of post-operative hand cream sit inside a box of un-released Magic product waiting to befuddle and confound whomever finds it.