I’ve been participating in a cool time-sink lately. It’s called Weewar. It’s a fun little game very similar to Nintendo’s own Advance Wars. Weewar is a turn-based hex-map strategy game in which you and up to 3 others (5 if you have a “pro” account”) vie for dominance. Each player captures bases and earns money for bigger and badder units.

Most of the game though is best learned for yourself, though. I’ve got invites for you though! Check out my profile too. I don’t win! hahaha!

I never thought to click on the comment from my good friend, Strobel on the S.O.S. post a while back. He has a blog too! You should read it ’cause I’m adding his link to my sidebar here.

First things first: Definition of meme. I only put this here ’cause it’s a relatively new word to English, so I’ll be generous and educate those who don’t know.

I’ve got some memes that, well, let’s be honest here… I guess they’re more inside jokes in the vein of “You had to be there.” I’m just blogging about it and waving my dick in your face while I talk about how awesome I am at brandishing my genitals. But what else is blogging about or for, I ask? What, indeed?

But I digress far, far too much. Here’s the list and some explanations. Enjoy it or die in a lightning fire made of cars.

• Cocket Snatch
  Bam! Cocket Snatch! It sounds dirty, doesn’t it? Really, it’s just a derivative of a brainstorming session to title a game modification for Unreal Tournament 200X. We were taking an original, licensed game, Rocket Jockey (a totally killer game, by the way), taking the core gameplay, and making it our own. We couldn’t name our game Rocket Jockey of course, so we came up with a list of titles. Rocket Grab was one of them, but that just seemed gay. Enter: Cocket Snatch. It’s like Rocket Snatch, but this one is intensely funnier. Ever since this brainstorming session, Cocket Snatch is on the list almost every time for sake of tradition.
• Dollar Cakes
  When I was but a lad wandering through the nudity of the Internet, I saw a word. I couldn’t pronounce the word. I knew I didn’t like what I saw alongside the word. It was a label. But I didn’t know if pronouncing it “Buck Cake” was correct. I later learned it was Bukkake, but I just tucked this nugget away for later.Coworker Steve and I were talking, and as conversations go, teenage masturbation is a roundhouse subject. You can always follow the train of thought and logic back to it. I decided to dig up my “Buck Cake” story for him, and he remembered thinking the same thing too! Over the course of the week, we would mutter “buck cake” to one another, and burst into laughter. It eventually evolved into cakes costing one dollar (a buck). Hence, “Dollar Cakes.”
• Baggadix
  Once again, this one has to do with coworker Steve. He was being especially pissy, for who knows what reason. I kept telling him to eat things like “bags of hell” and “dicks.” It continued until I told him to “Eat a bag of dicks.” Apparently the possibilities here were endless. “Eat 10 bags of 20 dicks” was just one of the phrases uttered. Eventually I grew weary and simply said “bag o’ dicks.” It’s not a huge mental leap from here to get to Baggadix. It sounds like a breakfast cereal though, like Trix, so it stuck.
• Liquid Bees
  You know, sometimes I don’t even know. Just - liquid fucking bees, okay?
• Lemonade from the ass well!
  Kyle Naziaxier (hehe, another inside joke), Allison, and I were driving someplace. Kyle had a habit of lingering the ’s’ of “as well,” making it sound like he was saying “ass well.” I, being the goofball that I am, had to do something with it, so in a strange voice, I crooned,”Ass well? You can drink lemonade from the ass well!”

So there you have it. A strange look into why I say what I say. There’ll probably be another entry similar to this sometime in the near future as I recall more weird shit I say.

Was she really a hooker? Or just a middle-aged woman in a short, shiny skirt, fish-net hose, and thigh-high boots?

…and frizzy, poofy hair.

…and a little micro jacket vest number.

…and a more-than-middle-aged businessman in tow.

…at 2:00 AM.

Ame and I were craving McDonald’s late last night, and we saw this happen on our way down the stairs at the apartment directly across and a floor down from ours. We could only assume she was a prostitute. It seemed far too perfect for her not to be.

Two small pieces of confusing evidence though: I recognized the man from that little encounter this morning in the parking lot. Perhaps he lives there and brought a hooker home for the night? Surely, a plausible scenario. That theory gets the axe though because she had the door key, and was yelling at her barking dog through the door to be quiet. Maybe the gentleman caller spent the night?

Was she really a hooker? I’d like to think so. It makes the world seem right somehow.

Just a few things…

Ame and I were enjoying our visit to the Coldstone Creamery, and a little boy comes in with what we could only assume to be his parents.
“I wan’ get the Black ice cream!”
“No, honey, you mean ‘chocolate,’ right?”
“Yeah! Chocolate!”

This exchange is just so cute and innocent, of course I have to sully it and make it devious. I just have to. I’m literally obligated to myself to make this little-boy’s simple want for chocolate ice cream horrible.

I lean in, ever so close to Ame, making sure not to be heard by the other patrons in the small shop. I whisper in my best impression of a store clerk, “I’m sorry sir, we don’t serve watermelon and fried-chicken ice cream.” As far as it matters, and at this point in time, I am the best comedian on the planet. I know it’s horrible and racist, but come on, it was just begging to be said.

Ame is now slightly embarrassed because on the other side of the shop, there was another young couple enjoying their desserts. I said I kept my voice down, but she told me it carried. Oh well. It was still funny! The best part of this story though, is not the hook, nor the line…

We had calmed down enough to continue enjoying our ice cream - I had strawberry, she ordered something almost excessively chocolate. We heard the little boy ordering watermelon ice cream! This killed me. I thought I was a comedian before! Had he heard? Had he picked up on something his racist relative said and he really meant for his “Black” ice cream to be watermelon!?

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The other day, Ame and I were on our way to the library. On the street corner outside of a Home Depot on the way, there was a skinny white guy who appeared to be free-styling. We toyed with the idea of going back to try and listen to him bust his rhymes, but we settled on the absurdity of it all being enough. It would be one thing if this were downtown somewhere with a lot of foot traffic, like you would think of when you think of a usual street-performer, but this was a busy intersection with cars whizzing past! Who could appreciate his performance? A mystery…

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Some short, cool news too! I came back from lunch and there was a fancy new widescreen flatpanel monitor, fresh in its box, sitting in my chair! This thing is pretty swanky. I wish I had one for the house…