Seriously, Rogue, Titan, Armada, Quest? Where’s the Nissan Half-Elf, guys?
6 Degrees of Separation February 24, 2010
So there I am, surrounded by skeletons in the catacombs of Reaverbury. Charity Sanskrit deals a mighty blow to one with a morning star she is barely smart enough to use, taking its head off. Johan Cole cleaves one in twain and turns to annihilate a second–
And my dad walks in from the gym. Yea, I’m roommates with my dad. Big woof. Wanna fight about it? So he walks in, interrupting D&D, makes a sandwich, and proceeds to talk about this super hot guy at his work named Blake. (Jury’s still out of the actual hotness of the guy because my dad and mom have the same taste in men and it’s not always to be trusted.) This guy has a great ass, I eye-rape him all day at work, blah blah blah, and he leaves us to continue exploring the dusty, zombie-infested catacombs where it looks like all our characters will meet their grisly demise.
After the game, I’m deleting some fag off my myspace friends list (which I know is totally gay, but I approved him by accident and now all his stupid updates keep coming directly to my phone and I can’t delete the account because I got TOSed too many times on the AOL account I started the myspace account with. Take that, 16-year-old me! You’re totally busted for being lame!) and I see a friend request from Blake who works at the Toyota dealership in Rancho Santa Margarita and has one friend in common with me. Great, so Dad has friended him, I assume. But no! Not so! Blake is, in fact, friends with the friend of my old arch-nemesis! I know this is boring to everyone else, but my boyfriend has been obsessed with finding a 6 degrees of separation between us since he met me off the internet almost three years ago. There you go, Ernie. We could have maybe possibly met through other vague acquaintances had we not met on the internet. Thanks, Blake.