mcsnee

• A discussion on edges in the game of Magic: the Gathering and how they apply to life
• A review of "Rules of the Game," the pickup manual workbook for lonely men (which should surprise some people)
• Describing a new player archetype: Chaotic Brutal

This entry originated at adampknave.com.

So I realized there was a movie mash-up I hadn’t done yet, somehow. Oddly, after making the poster I realized I could probably do this one using nothing but actual dialogue from both movies. So I tried it. And, scarily, it worked. Except for, like, the first one, where I just replaced McClane’s name in the scene. Otherwise, all scenes are half and half – errr, mostly. Enjoy.

John McClane: How old are you?
Edward Cullen: Seventeen.
John McClane: How long have you been seventeen?
Edward Cullen: A while.

John McClane: Come to L.A., he says. You’ll have a good time, he says.
Edward Cullen: What did you expect? Coffins and dungeons and moats?
John McClane: No, not the moats.
Edward Cullen: Not the moats.

John McClane: So that’s is what this is about, Ed? A fucking robbery?
Edward Cullen: And so the lion fell in love with the lamb.
John McClane: Why’d you have to nuke the whole building, Ed?
Edward Cullen: What a sick, masochistic lion.

Edward Cullen: I should go back there and rip those guys’ heads off.
John McClane: Glass? Who gives a shit about glass? Who the fuck is this?
Edward Cullen: You don’t know the vile, repulsive things they were thinking.
John McClane: Oh, you’re in charge? Well, I got some bad news for you Edward, from up here it doesn’t look like you’re in charge of jack shit.

John McClane: I know what you are.
Edward Cullen: Say it, out loud say it.
John McClane: Asshole.
Edward Cullen: Are you afraid?
John McClane: …no.

Edward Cullen: My family, we’re different from others of our kind. We only drink animal blood, but it’s your scent. It’s like a drug to me. It’s like you’re my own personal brand of heroin.
John McClane: Got invited to the Christmas party by mistake. Who knew?
Edward Cullen: I did, only because of wanting you so badly. I still don’t know if I can control myself.
John McClane: Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker.

• 08:37 #WorldAidsDay is today. AIDS is free; no coupon codes, no specials. Make sure you find out how to get it -- THEN DON'T! #red #
• 09:19 Who's the real enemy? US Military deaths so far in 2009: 144 in Iraq, 297 in Afghanistan, and 334 suicides. bit.ly/6xL34Q #
• 11:29 Manhattan Project: Totes wnted 2 b ther : bit.ly/7bcpha #
• 13:34 OH from the kitchen: "With sufficient care you can totally recycle corn, peanuts, and poppy seeds." #checkplease #
• 17:13 -photo- 18th Dynasty, recently discovered (in my house, anyway):
  
  ...and I hear that the symbolism is quite naughty. bit.ly/78UGw6 #

• 18:45 Heard that Baumhower's cooking up Gator meat from now till gametime to get ready for the championship. Anyone want to get supper after work? #

• 08:58 Yay! ::bouncybouncybouncy:: #
• 09:07 RT @angoris: Looking for examples of negative cultural stereotypes of romance novels in popular culture. Help! #
• 12:25 PRI's The World article on romance w/ Suz Brockmann, Allison Kelly and Jayashree Kamble: Bad economy good for romance bit.ly/6RRqvm #
• 13:40 RT @ka_mitchell: Yay! Release day for An Improper Holiday, my m/m historical. Available at Samhain, ARe and for Kindle. #
• 15:40 Just dropped off @angoris, sending her back to Chicago and @EricSelinger. So great having her here. Plotted much world domination. #
• 18:28 My review of @ka_mitchell's novella. RT @dearauthor: New post: REVIEW: An Improper Holiday by K.A. Mitchell bit.ly/5Vhg8g #

This entry originated at adampknave.com.

So on my way home I stop by the supermarket. As I’m checking out I glance at the row of coin machines. You know these things, I’m sure. You put your coins in and turn the silvery handles and out drops a prize: a gumball or a bouncy ball or something in a hard plastic bubble, waiting to be played with. I don’t know why I think of these things as prizes since you pay for them, but there you have it.

Anyway, being, mentally, closer to five than further from it, I generally glance at the machines when I’m checking out. You never know if there’s an awesome toy I just happen to think is worth 50 cents. Yeah, they used to be 25 cents, etc, but 50 is the norm now, suck it up, grandpa.

I did realize, early on, that the best toy you could get was the plastic container that other toys came in. I mean it was this crystal clear (the better ones, fuck the smoky colored ones) bubble of hard, oddly brittle, plastic, with a colored top that closed up all air tight. That was the best toy ever. You could use it for things, put other toys in it, scoop up stuff, whatever it’s the best toy there is. But I digress.

So I’m taking my change from the cashier (40 cents, and I don’t have any other change so there go my dreams of a plastic bubble tonight) and there at the machines is this guy. Now this guy has two kids with him, both boys. The kids are something close to ten, max. Probably more like seven. Their dad has that look on his face. The one that says “These are the heirs to my empire? These kids?”

Nothings observably wrong with the kids, mind you. They’re not the sort you would consider sending back to the factory for a tune-up or anything. I mean, not that I could see at a quick glance. No they were just pre-ten-year-old boys. They have a tendency to reduce people to the “I did what?” state of mind sometimes. I get that.

And I’m watching these kids roam the row of machines, deep in discussion. They have enough money for one item. They each have a quarter. They’re going to have to work this out.

“Let’s get one of those little guys!” one kid says. We’ll call him Child 1.

“If we could get a blue one…” Child 2 muses.

“We never get a blue guy. And I don’t’ want another gold guy,” Child 1 says with this air of being utterly sick with the sheer number of tiny golden plastic men they must have.

“But I want a blue guy,” Child 2 insists, as if by hoping against hope he can make the machine give him a blue guy.

At this point I really want to tell them that the plastic bubble is the whole point but since I don’t know these kids or their father that might be a tad strange.

“Hey, we could get a bouncing ball!” Child 1 exclaims, slapping his brother on the shoulder.

“You lost the last one.”

“But I won’t lose this one.”

“Yeah you will. You lost the last two.”

“I did not!”

“Did!” And with this Child 2 turns his back on his brother and puts a hand on the glass of the machine with the tiny men.

“Hey wait,” Child 1 says thoughtfully, “we could get two gumballs.”

“One each?” Child 2 asks, making sure his brother isn’t trying anything.

“Yeah! I’ll let you pick which flavor you want out of what we get.”

And they smile at each other and hurry over to the gumballs and quickly push a quarter in and turn the knob. Then another quarter and another turn. They take their gumballs and show their father who nods and touches each child on the head, as if saying “Maybe they will be able to split the land fairly, after all.”

And they start leaving, and I’m right behind them, happily ensconced in memory. And Child 1 pipes up, “I so didn’t lose the last two bouncing balls.” and crams a gumball the size of his head deep into his mouth.