manufactured crisisWell, another birthday has come and gone for your Uncle NecRo. If you haven’t been paying attention—and I don’t really blame you much if you haven’t—and are now wondering how old this self-described \,,/METAL DEMIGOD\,,/ and overall equal opportunity nerdboy is, let’s just say that I’m one year shy of being the answer to life, the universe, and everything. Eleven years past the expiration date on my birth certificate. No wonder I’m so rancid and sour. On with the A’La Carte, then.

happy birthdayAll things considered, the marking of this year’s celebration (or mourning, depending on how you look at it) of the Birth of the NecRoSarX (where did you think “Uncle NecRo” derives from?) was fairly agreeable. And by “agreeable”, I mean “epic”. While the actual day that was my official birthday was spent merely passing as your standard work day, it was on the next day, which I took some personal vacation time on, to make this a three-day weekend, which I properly celebrated with family and friends. The day started with renewing my driver’s license (and with the beard-n-hair combo, I quipped that I would have to maintain that look for another 5 years, just so anyone who has to look at it would recognize me, to which my mother said “NO YOU DON’T” without missing much of a beat, there), then meeting the family—mother, step father, sister, brother-in-law, and my 4-year-old nephew—at one of the HuHot’s in Omaha, where we all went a bit overboard on the Mongolian goodness. And since I had some time to kill before the Grand Event, I finally managed to stop by the Plumes in mid-town Omaha to visit someone I hadn’t seen in a while. Pleasant, that was, good to see she’s doing well. Also, the concept of “Zombie Blood” as a flavoring intrigues me. Then I stopped by ½ Price Books, with the intention of merely browsing for a bit to kill time, and ended up dropping a bit over $50 on eight Doctor Who books within five minutes. Yeah, that happens more frequently than you would think when I go there. At least I got a free calendar thrown in.

So, with a goodly portion of my Birthday Spendings budget suddenly gone bye-bye, I figured the best option to hold on to the rest for purchasing merch at the show was to just park outside of the dwelling place of the guy I was accompanying to the Opeth/In Flames/Red Fang show later, and wait. I loaded the Pandorica with a couple of movies to watch, one of which was the adaptation of the Philip K. Dick novel Radio Free Albemuth. Not to get too detailed, but…yeah, this was a movie in serious need of Nicholas Cage. He should have done this one instead of Next. What, you didn’t know that was a Philip K. Dick adaptation as well? There’s much more of them than you would know. It’s like…a conspiracy or something…

Anyway, just to move this boring story along, the time arrived, and my fellow \,,/METAL\,,/ geek and I headed out to go see the bands Opeth, In Flames and Red Fang play the Sokol Hall. Along the way, this happened:

Yeah. Chilling stuff, there. And did you notice the lawn only had the head of Frosty? That just raises more questions. But, regardless, we made it in time for the show, and for four blissful hours, had our faces continually melted off through the night. We rubbed elbows and fellowshiped with various other \,,/METAL\,,/heads, was only laughed at once for wearing earplugs (though, I saw many more like-minded individuals using them, and said laugher admitted to his hearing being shot, so we’ll let him have his fun, there), and a nice afterglow that only a full-on \,,/METAL\,,/ show can give was had well after Opeth left the stage at the end of the night.

constructive criticismThe next day, I met up with some more friends at the Aksarben Village to watch Matthew McConaughey IN SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE! While waiting outside of the theater for memebers of the party to show up (as I arrived about an hour or so before the designated meet time, as I am wont to do), I witnessed a very convincing Santa and Mrs. Claus emerge from inside the theater—they offered me a candy cane, which I had to decline, but thank you very much surreal moment—followed periodically by a couple of clowns with balloons and helium tanks, people of varying ages with elaborate face paint, and a couple of people dressed in Red Bull can costumes. I got the sense that, either I was missing out on a great party inside, or perhaps the fruit I consumed for breakfast earlier was a bit overripe after all. So, anyway, everybody shows up, we watch Interstellar (which, all said and done, was a good movie, but did come off like they couldn’t decide to remake 2001: A Space Odyssey or The Black Hole, so they smooshed them both together and threw in some Heinlein for flavoring), then we dined next door at a place called Dudley’s, which has a signature pizza that utilizes Feta cheese that was rather interesting, in a good way. Then I went home and promptly collapsed and slept through the rest of the day, because being the introverted freak that I am, while those past couple of days were very, very good ones, they still drained me considerably. So I spent most of today by myself, chilling out and letting things get back to abnormal.

Okay, sure, there was that one guy at the Sunday morning adult Bible class before church who wanted to be “friendly”, but after a couple more of his types joined the table and started talking about the Huskers as part of the group discussion on Hebrews 12, I decided to pack things in and relocate to an empty table. I do have my standards, after all.

do you believe in ghost peppersEnough babbling. Let’s link to what I’ve found interesting on the interwebs, here. First, here’s a news piece from the New York Daily News that demonstrates my continual belief that the days post-Thanksgiving (and sometimes even the day of) is a microcosm showcasing the very worst of American behavior. What leaves me scratching my head a bit is that it looks like Britain is getting in on the act as well. I mean, they don’t really have a Thanksgiving, do they? Eh, nice to know that we’re not the only crazy ones, I guess. Next, here’s a very interesting interview that Doug Walker (aka The Nostalgia Critic) did with Noah Antwiler (aka The Spoony One) that you really need to watch…after you’re done reading this, of course. Spoony gets rather personal and candid about his own struggles with depression, which is something I can very much relate to.

h138C0863STUFF I WROTE: Well, it looks like the pre-scheduled postings are beginning to thin out a bit. Soon, probably at the beginning of the New Year, I’ll go back to scheduling a small cluster a week in advance (so as to not incur the wrath of the moderators and such), with some randumb posts here and there. In the meantime, this week there have been no music reviews, just a bunch of movie reviews and articles. The movie reviews consisted of The Unborn, Underworld, the Jon Bon Jovi vampire flick Vampires: Los Muertos (never thought I’d ever see myself writing that), the ultra-low budget suck-fest (no pun intended) Vampiyaz, V For Vendetta, the Megadeth episode of VH1’s Behind The Music, and the John Carpenter take on Village Of The Damned. As for the articles, I share some 30 Randumb Things You May Or May Not Know About Me, and muse a bit on my birthday this year.

I'm With Qui GonAnd that’s it for this week. And, in honor of the awesomeness experienced on Friday, I leave you all with a triple-shot from Red Fang, In Flames and Opeth. Cheers, all, and see you next week.



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