Umbral Echoes Blog

Got into Chicago okay, and things have already been eventful.  Last night there was a party at the house I’m staying at, which included a live band and then several DJs later on.  The band apparently brought some of their frat friends to drink our alcohol.  I purchased some Captain Morgan’s since the rum they had (“Lieutenant Dan’s”) wasn’t… quality.  It was in a clear plastic container, not glass.  Never a good sign.

As I posted before, the party had a “revolution” theme.  So I ended up going as Lucifer, the original revolutionary.  Even found a pair of black angel wings for $10 at one of the stores Lydia and I went to.  However, we couldn’t find a fabric store that was open, so I ended up having to use a sheet for a toga.  Here is the result:

I drank, and talked to many people.  This cooperative living thing is very conducive to socializing.  So it was good times.

Today we went out to an old-time radio demo, where some people on stage recreated some old radio shows.  One was a comedy, one was a pretty cool horror story based on a short story.  The event itself was held in a rather awesome cathedral.  I love cathedrals, and beautiful architecture in general.

Afterward, we went to see Sweeney Todd, which I had not seen before.  It was pretty awesomely twisted, and Lydia told me about is one scene that is often even cut from the Broadway play, involving the main villain masturbating.  I now really want to see the musical — a version which includes that scene, specifically.

Internet access here is rare.  The WiFi connection seems to disagree with my laptop, so now I’m borrowing the wired connection from the house computer downstairs.  I can’t seem to get into the router to investigate (maybe they changed it to a non-standard IP), so for now I’ll have limited access.

So I’m belatedly posting about my trip to Charleston, to visit Niquie and Jared.  I blame Niquie, for not getting back to me with a picture.  It is not my own lax attitude.  Seriously.

Though it was a bit rushed — only stayed one night — it was fun.  There was beer, and lots of walking around downtown Charleston.  They have some beautiful historic buildings there, and there was lots of wind by the coast.  I love me some wind.  I also watched Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels for the first time ever.  Guy Ritchie films remind me of Ravel’s Bolero.  They start out slow, and then eventually build to a fever pitch where blood is flying, things are exploding, and baby Jesus is running around twirling his umbilical cord like a lasso and crying out, “Yippee kayay, motherfucker!!!” as he ropes in triple-cunted undead hookers.

Anyway, here are a few pics from the trip.  Apparently the new WordPress 2.5 “gallery” feature doesn’t work so well for me, so I’ll have to do this manually….

After having gone through a metric fuck-ton of resumés, many first-round interviews, and a sum total of only three people who got to the technical interview (two of which bombed it), it’s become apparent to me that my current workplace simply can’t replace me.  At least, not without a lot of luck — it’s nearly impossible to find someone with the necessary management skills and tech skills, who will be willing to work for the salary that they can afford.  They got lucky with me originally because I was a White Wolf fan boy, and not quite yet out of engineering school when they hired me.  So I was willing to take (far) less-than-average pay for the job.

So, seeing the writing on the wall, I gave the company owners two options.  One: July 30th, hell or high water, would be my last day.  Two: I remain with the company, contingent upon certain non-negotiable demands being met.

They chose option 2, and I’m satisfied that I will be able to find the personal and professional growth that I’ve felt has been lacking in my current position.  In fact, they went above and beyond my demands — for example, I demanded a raise, they gave me a bigger raise, saying they thought I deserved more.  As well as the promise of “decent-sized raises, especially in the next two review periods.”

This was a really tough decision to make — the White Wolf guys really are like family to me, and I’ve always wanted to be a game programmer (specifically, for RPGs). And the perks of working for White Wolf are nothing to sneeze at: on-staff chef providing free breakfast and lunch daily (and dinner two nights a week), cool-ass custom-made gothic “cubicles” (more like 4-man work areas), the most awesome work environment in the history of man, full benefits package with healthcare included in salary, a gym, a never-empty keg fridge in one of the conference room named “The Enabler,” monthly alcohol-soaked cookouts, etc. And more than anything, I miss my old boss, Chris McDonough. Having an awesome boss makes any job palatable, and having an awesome boss at an awesome company is exponentially better.

It is still possible that I might go in that direction eventually; I’ll be keeping my ear to the ground for possible college grads whom we might be able to train up to replace me. But if that does happen, it won’t be any time soon.

This does take a lot of stress off of me, though. In addition to everything else that’s been weighing on me lately, I was trying to learn a new programming language, and I’ve felt split in too many directions at once. That’s really been getting to me these past few months — I really can’t accept performing at anything less than my best, and I’ve been too unfocused to do my job as effectively as I can. Also, I won’t have to worry about money quite so much any more, which is another big weight off my shoulders. This means that I should be able to visit some of you that I wouldn’t otherwise be able to, even if it’s just for a weekend trip.

Overall, I feel as if there’s a weight off of my shoulders, but at the same time I feel a sense of loss.  But though I won’t be around the White Wolf crew on a daily basis, I am still invited to the company parties at least.

I’ll be vacationing in Chicago April 12th through 19th, and the night I come in there’s going to be a party at the place I’m staying. It’s a revolution-themed party.

Lydia is the dominatrix German with the crop. So I need costume ideas, but the catch is I’m very short on money right now. Need to pinch pennies and all that.

So, I need to either reuse an old costume, or make something simple. Here are some old costume possibilities:

• Elvis costume — “I’m startin’ a revolution, and it’s called rock ‘n’ roll, baby.”
• Dark angel costume — Black toga, black wings, sword, angel mask. Go as Lucifer, starting the revolution in Heaven. Downside is the wings… they tend to get in the way of things like moving around with other people closeby, sitting down, etc.
• Pornstar Luigi costume — I have no idea what I would use this for, but there you have it.
• Agent costume — Same as above.

Another possibility I was considering was to go as an IRA member (maybe get some temporary tattoos and such), and pass out Irish Car Bombs. Though I doubt there will be much Guinness, Bailey’s, or Jameson at the party.

So, I know some of you out there are good at these sorts of ideas. Bagwell, should I use your idea from years ago: hang a potato from my crotch and be the “dick ‘tater?” I mean, every good revolution needs a dictator to overthrow. Maybe I could even get them to try and overthrow me. That would result in much glorious bloodshed, as all revolutions should.

You thought I was going to say “titties,” didn’t you?  Hah!

Last night we were had a going-away party for our friend Nikhil — his H1-B visa is up, so he’s going back to India.  However, having been in Atlanta for several years, he’s never been to The Clermont Lounge (often misspelled “Clairemont”).  This is an Atlanta destination, so of course we had to take him.  For those not in the know, this is quite possibly the worst strip club in the country, if not the world.  In fact, it is not so much a strip club as a freakshow, with one great-grandmother stripper, and their star act “Blondie,” a 350 lb. black woman who wears a blond wig and crushes beer cans with her tits.  The sort of place you’d expect to see an amputee stripper.

This is the second time I’ve been there, the first having been for a friend’s bachelor party.  The great-grandmother was out that night, and I don’t think I will ever be able to burn the image out of my memory of her releasing her sagging breasts, flopping her torso around, then angrily looking at whatever unlucky patron was right in front of her, as if they owed her a dollar bill for the display.

Rule one of The Clermont: don’t make eye contact with the strippers.

Oh, did I mention there was apparently a prostitution sting going on at the Clermont Hotel?  (The strip club is in the basement of the hotel.)  They had the paddy wagon right by the entrance to the club.  So very classy.  It does, at least, have cheap drinks.  The bartender insisted we all have something called a Red-Headed Slut.  Too sweet for my tastes, but I was a trooper and slugged it.

Anyway, there were surprisingly few horrific strippers.  There was even one that might be qualified as somewhat hot.  Her stage name was Jessica Rabbit, real name Amy.  Cary and I talked to her a bit, and wonder of wonders, she immediately recognized Cary’s Mage: the Ascension t-shirt.  Apparently she used to play Mage and Werewolf (as recently as a couple of years ago), is a White Wolf fan, an amateur flame dancer, and writes horror scripts and short stories.  Scripts and stories which actually seemed pretty compelling, from the few examples she gave us.  Who knew that being affiliated with White Wolf gets stripper cred?

So, we got Nikhil a double lap dance from her, and a 40s-ish looking stripper.  Some hot and cold for contrast, if you will.  I attempted to surreptitiously take pictures to give Nikhil something to remember the night by, but unfortunately I got busted (by a patron, no less), and had to delete all of the pics I took.  Bummer.

We left shortly thereafter, to go to The Pink Pony, just to get the taste of the Clermont out of our mouths.  Clermont to Pink Pony seems to be a tradition in the making.  I was oddly blasé about The Pink Pony — it was quite refreshing after The Clermont, but overall I just wasn’t feeling it.  We got Nikhil a lap dance from a smoking-hot Aussie chick, and left shortly thereafter.  But not before a lap dance was inflicted upon me as well, by a girl that looked just like Paris Hilton — if Paris Hilton had collagen injections and a boob job.  I was pretty horrified, actually.

I was thinking about strip clubs in general last night, and who all they exploit.  They obviously reinforce stereotypes all around — women as sex objects, men as mindless creatures wanting only sex.  But I actually think that men are more exploited than women, because it’s their pocketbooks that are getting drained, and the women profit from it (quite nicely, too).  Strippers are the ultimate con-artists, and I truly say that with sincere appreciation for their skill as such.

Okay, so it took me longer than planned.

Video – Chris McDonough deepthroating a corndog:

Video – The crew singing some Pat Benatar:

Pictures below the cut, so I don’t spam people’s friend page. Full gallery here.

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I forget sometimes how much I truly miss the White Wolf guys.  And more than that, I never realized before tonight how much they miss me — even some who never actually worked with me, like the Icelanders.  Anyway, I won’t be overly mushy here.

I drank from about noon until 9pm today.  It was grand.  I won a game of Liar’s Dice, I had more to drink than I planned (but less than sick-level), and I nearly made out with my former boss Chris.  The last was for a good purpose, I swear — he nearly convinced two hot chicks to make out with each other.  Also, yet again I made a name for myself by taking things a step too far.  Apparently it’s okay to joke about rough sex, but making hair-grabbing and thrusting motions is over the line.  And by over the line, I mean just just right.

Anyway, some media below the cut.  … Hmm, actually I’m tired now.  So, pictures and a bit of video of Chris deepthroating a corndog to follow tomorrow.  Check back.  🙂

Oh toxic lighter fluid,
you make such beautiful flame.
But how you burn
my lower lip.
Or maybe that was
the fire extinguisher.

This is only a short clip. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), there is no video of me being extinguishered in the face. Also… looking back on it, it looks like I was drinking that lighter fluid. Don’t try this at home, kids. Kerosene is a much less toxic alternative to lighter fluid. Or you can use corn starch to be completely safe about it (thanks for that, sis).

Tonight I partied with the White Wolf crew. Highlights below the cut, in video format. WMV, so sorry for those of you on Macs. I also breathed fire, but I do not yet have that video. And Justin Achilli made me drink horrible Icelandic vodka. Well, okay. He only asked me if I wanted in. Which, was the same way that I ended up guzzling and spitting lighter fluid. Man, lighter fluid burps are non-tasty.

Oh, also… the guy in the last clip LIT HIS FACE ON FIRE. But I didn’t catch that part on video. 🙁 He got extinguisher to the face. Which I got later that night, too. It does not taste good.

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Well, things have finally come together, and today in the early afternoon we’ll be signing off the old house to its new owners.  I am hopeful that everything will go smoothly, but it just seems like it’s come together a little too well for something not to go wrong.  Like when we get there, they will have a donkey prepared.  “Oh, didn’t you read the fine print?  There’s a ‘Tijuana’ clause — it’s standard in contracts these days.  You didn’t think you could really sell a house in this market that easily, did you?”