Leslie Magic
September 28th, 2008"Hey stupidhead, that's my cup of latte!" Leslie shouts.
The guy looks down at the latte, snorts, and takes a gulp. "I don't see your name on it," he huffs. Fuming, Leslie starts to wave her hands through the air.
"Hey stupidhead, that's my cup of latte!" Leslie shouts.
The guy looks down at the latte, snorts, and takes a gulp. "I don't see your name on it," he huffs. Fuming, Leslie starts to wave her hands through the air.
I love a good action flick. Mindless, heart-pounding, knife-wielding, gun-totting, ass-kicking, chunk-full-of-cliches, action movie.
The hero walks into a room with a hundred bad guys. The odds are against him. They all have swords and rifles and rocket launchers. He has a pencil sharpener. And yet, he still manages to kick all of their asses.
God I love that.
I had my own universe once. A universe where all of my toys existed together and battled one another. Autobots and G.I. Joe troops defended against Decepticons, Cobra, Battle Beasts, M.U.S.C.L.E.s, and Darth Vader & the Empire's troops.
Unfortunately, I didn't have a lot of Japanese toys; otherwise I would've mixed Robotech and Gundam in there too. I did have Voltron though. Go Voltron!
(Warning: High Geek Content Ahead.)
(As if you didn't already guess that.)
This is what happens when the lights go out. The rats mobilize and the cockroaches arm themselves. It's an all-out war unseen by human eyes. We wouldn't want to see it either; it would be too horrible to comprehend.
Woofer, the 170 pound Irish Wolfhound, backed his new owners to the couch and to their amazement, began speaking.
"Listen folks, this is how it's going to be…"
Almost everyone on the planet was dead. Civilization as we know it was reduced to a cross between the Wild West and Mad Max: nearly deserted towns littered the dusty earth with the remnants of buildings and machines.
I want to be a grandfather who tells stories to his grandkids one day. Fantastic stories. Stories about how I fought off legions of rogue ninjas who swarmed the family mansion with just a rusty butter knife.
Dave fancies himself a pool hustler. To his credit, he is a pretty good one. I rarely see anyone beat him. And if someone does, usually it's because he let the person win for some reason.
Let me tell you a story about Dave the Pool Hustler.
It was the waterfall of blood that shocked me the most. But before I get ahead of myself, let me tell you why I hit him on the forehead.
My parents had never had a vacation without my brother and me until that week. Being the archetypical Chinese parents, our family vacations were to Adventure Land (a lame rip-off of Six Flags Great Adventure), Hershey Park (a lame rip-off of Disney World), and, um, that's about it. It was just those two.
Romance is different for a guy than it is for a girl. Romance for a girl is what we all mean when we say the word. It's passion, it's love, it's little boxes of chocolate and flowers and poems about knights on white horses.