Sunday, June 29, 2008

Makeup Girl

Okay, so I finished driver’s ed, and you know how I mentioned there was this cute girl I wanted to talk to? Well, on the third day, I actually did, and I thought that on the final day of driver’s ed, (yesterday), I might casually ask her out for a coffee.

Of course, this plan went all to hell when she simply didn’t show up for the final day. So I improvised – and this is where you’re all probably going to think I’m a real creep. I waited for our instructor to step out for his hourly smoke break, and I quickly rooted through the test papers, and jotted her number down, finally putting everything back the way I found it.

I agonized over whether I should actually call the number for awhile, but finally I did. I wrote out a message first, hoping it might cover any contingency, and called the number, hoping for the best.

A man answered the phone, and at first he seemed a bit thrown off that I was asking for (her name… for anonymity sake lets call her Makeup Girl. Sorry, I’m a bit frazzled and lacking imagination right now.)

I asked him when she might be around, and he said “I don’t know, the end of the month,” which threw me, because it sort of is the end of the month, “she doesn’t normally live here.” So I asked if she had a cell phone or an e-mail address, and he said he couldn’t remember them offhand, so asked if I could leave a message.

So I then proceeded with what I had dreaded having to do most – leave a message with another person, and other people, I probably don’t need to tell you, are notoriously unreliable.

So I told him my name, and left my number, adding a note that “the best way to describe me is the blog guy from driver’s ed.” I told her about this blog, you see, because asked me about it, so for all I know, she is (you are) reading this. But I figure, you know, how often does someone randomly say they’ll check out your blog, or a particular book or movie, or pub, and actually do it? That’s not meant to be rhetorical, I seriously don’t know…

And I feel stupid because I didn’t even add to that. I didn’t even remember to tell him “what I want,” which is to “meet up for a coffee sometime.”

Anyway, Makeup Girl, if you are reading this, I’m sorry if I have (or if I am) embarrassing you. You just seem very nice, and I would really just like to meet you for coffee. And I promise I’m not some kind of psycho stalker, and I promise I won’t keep bothering you. Unless you want me to. I just wish I’d worked up the courage to talk to you a little more, and perhaps a little sooner.

And to everyone else, be honest, how weird and/or desperate do you think I’m being?

Word of the Day #5: Fervent

fervent [fur-vuhnt]


  1. having or showing great warmth or intensity of spirit, feeling, enthusiasm, etc.; ardent: a fervent admirer; a fervent plea.
  2. hot; burning; glowing.

Usage in common English

“When I last saw Ben Stein, he was still hosting that trivia show.”

“I believe he doesn’t call it “trivia.” He calls it “common knowledge.”

“If that knowledge is so fucking common, then what’s the point?”

“He’s just being a turd. He wants to make the average American look stupid. You know, as if that were a challenge. Now I hear he’s become a fervent anti-Darwinist.”

“Wow. He is a turd.”

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Napping in the Day

So, I’ve now completed half of the theory portion of the driving course, and for the second time in a row, I find myself passing out right when I get home.

I suspect part of it may have to do with the layout of the classroom. The small room which should seat 24, is seating about 40 of us, and the air conditioning cuts out every 15 minutes – not that it circulates air particularly well anyway. (Al, this is where your mother took driver’s ed, I believe.) A female friend of mine who’s also taking driver’s ed, (by bizarre fluke), says it reminds her of university in Ghana, where there weren’t enough seats, and there was no air conditioning. Nothing like the schools in Canada – well, except as it turns out, driving school.

So I had a dream earlier that’s sort of been haunting me. People were complaining about the overpopulation of the planet, and I was waiting for a friend whose flight had apparently been hijacked by terrorists. Somehow they’d taken the plane back, and managed to land it, though not everyone inside had survived. So there we stood, outside the airport because of all the crowding, our many families waiting for the heroes to emerge from their plane. And there, stepping out of the plane, he comes, and everyone is cheering.

That’s when things really start to get hot. Literally. A massive explosion appears on the horizon, rapidly approaching us. I survive by jumping into a sewer, as everyone is toasted above me. I hold my breath beneath the swage as long as I can, and finally emerge to a flaming city. There are other survivors, but they are few, and together we scavenge for food as we make our way out of the wasteland that was a city.

And in this dream, I did reconnect with one old friend, who also survived against all odds. In fact, I couldn’t figure out what she was doing there at all. Al, it was your sister.

Anyway, I mention this dream because I’m thinking of writing into a short story. It turns out it fits very nicely into my master plan for the stories, and actually explains a lot.

Started Driver’s Ed

Yesterday, I began what will be a four day course in driving – the theory side of things. I’ve still not even applied for my license yet. Neither has my sister, who’s taking the class with me.

So far I’ve learned that if you speed, or fail to stop at a stop sign on your driving test, you fail. And I’ve learned that insurance is expensive, particularly if you’re male and 17-25 years of age, because you’re part of that “high-risk group. I recall the first time I learned that, 11 years ago now, (my first time through driver’s ed), thinking that was terribly unfair. Why should I pay a high premium for what other stupid guys my age are doing? Then again, 17-25 has come and gone for me, so now it doesn’t really matter. And I was right. It turns out I really wasn’t like those other guys, because I never bothered to graduate to a full license and get my own car. Maybe this time will be different. Only time will tell.

Also, there’s a really cute girl sitting right behind me in class, and I find her a little distracting. I’m tying to work up the courage to say something to her, and I’d rather it be something witty or clever, but it’d probably just come off as awkward or desperate.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Lazy Sunday #2

Today I took some time to revamp my Film Review blog. Basically I added labels so that now you can browse through movie reviews based on the number of stars I gave a movie, from the 5 star movies to the ½ star movies. I also added two films that I saw last night, Baby Mama and Son of Rambow, both of which are worth seeing.

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Word of the Day #4: Subpoena

subpoena [suh-pee-nuh]

  1. n. The usual writ for the summoning of witnesses or the submission of evidence, as records or documents, before a court or other deliberative body.
  2. v. To serve with a subpoena.

Usage in common English

“Hey Linda, I just got subpoenaed for all my tax receipts for the last five years.”

“Uh-oh. Somebody’s going to jail. I guess you better start waxing your asshole again.”

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Learning About Art

Hi everyone!

So today, I’m trying to learn about art – namely two artists in particular – Peter Max and Pablo Picasso. Supposedly I’m coming up with a 2-5 minute sales pitch for pieces of art painted by them. I have no idea how I’m supposed to do this, so I figure I’ll just read up on them and hopefully I’ll be able to convey the gist of why they’re important to art.

Monday, June 16, 2008

Word of the Day #3: Sosatie

Sosatie (pl sosaties) is a traditional South African entree. The term derives from sesate ("skewered meat") and sate (spicy sauce). It is of Cape Malay origin, used in Afrikaans, the primary language of the Cape Malays, and the word has gained greater circulation in South Africa.


To prepare, mutton chunks are marinated overnight in fried onions, chillies, garlic, curry leaves and tamarind juice, then threaded on skewers and either pan-fried or grilled.


“You better respect my Afrikaner society, or I’ll make you into Afrikaner sosatie.”

Word of the Day #2: Mohel

mohel (moy-uhl)

The man who performs the circumcision at a briss, (the Jewish rite of circumcising a male child on the eighth day after his birth)


“Zelig’s a bit of a stick in the mud, eh?”

“Why do you say that?”

“I saw him in the street right now, and I held out my hand and said ‘hey, man! Gimme some skin!’ He looked disgusted with me.”

“Zelig’s a mohel, Sadie. He just cuts the skin off. You want to put it back on, call a plastic surgeon, you shlemiel.”

Word of the Day #1: Yataghan

yataghan (yāt'ə-gān', -gən)

n. A Turkish sword or scimitar having a double-curved blade and an eared pommel, but lacking a handle guard.


“Aw, man! I can’t believe I got a D in English. This sucks!”

“You know what else would suck? Getting your fingers chopped off by a yataghan, a double-curved, medieval, Turkish blade.”

“Oh, snap.”

Word of the Day – Introduction

One of my favorite wastes-of-time of time, is a little board game by Hasbro called Scrabble. Almost every time I play, I find myself learning new obscure words to throw around, as if anyone cared. So I thought I’d share some of them under this section, complete with proper ways to incorporate the word into common English.

Waiting for Godot

The art dealer guy sent me an e-mail about a job interview for today, so I sent a reply, but now today has arrived, and I’ve still not heard from him. I guess I’ll just keep waiting, but I’m also going to take this opportunity to start a new online pet project.

Friday, June 13, 2008

Dinner with Spike

I’m writing from the office again today, and I’m also babysitting my cousin later, so I can really feel like a working man for a change. I’ll probably make more money today than I’ve made in day’s work since 2003.

Last night I had a rather unpleasant dinner out with Spike. He called me up, invited me out for a drink and maybe some pizza, and I wasn’t doing anything, and I haven’t seen him in awhile, and he is supposedly one of my best friends, in theory, so I was happy to oblige. But within minutes of sitting down with him, I was reminded of how boring I find the guy.

So we talked about whatever we could think of that was new. I explained how badly Grandma Loopy was doing with her Alzheimer’s, and how she’s got three pill cocktails a day, and the pills do nothing. My father insists that the memory pill, galantamine, is helping with her memory, but my reaction to that is “what memory? She doesn’t have one anymore. You pull out of her driveway, you’ve just fed her, and she’s immediately on the phone wondering when you’re coming over for dinner.”

I explained to Spike that I’d been researching the pill, and found that it does not, in fact, have any proven positive effect on the memory. It merely provides extra doses of chemicals the brain produces anyway. It also has all kinds of nasty side effects, and when used for other forms of memory loss, it actually increases death rates. So, we’re not exactly winning by using galantamine. In fact, I went so far as to tell Spike there was now known for Alzheimer’s.

So Spike says to me he’s heard of a cure involving marijuana. It sounds like a joke, I know, but as I said, Spike has no sense of humor. So I began pressing him for where he read this, because as I said to him, (and often say to comments this), “hmm… that certainly doesn’t sound true.” He said he hadn’t read it. Someone told him. But he couldn’t remember who. Probably because he smokes too much marijuana. I was content to just drop the subject after that.

Then he dragged me into one of his typical arguments about how the world is a miserable place and that I’m a huge jerk for not wanting to change everything.

It all started with a comment about student debts. One of his roommates had told him earlier he hoped the economy would collapse so he wouldn’t have to pay off his student debts. He was probably kidding, but Spike doesn’t have much of a sense of humor. And so here Spike was, telling me that the economy was bound to collapse, because it’s based on something unsustainable. I said I didn’t think so, and we went into a rather long debate about why I think the economy works, and why he thinks it doesn’t.

For instance, he thought that charging people interest for borrowing money isn’t right, and that it also isn’t right for banks to give interest to their investors. After all, the Muslims don’t do it that way. Spike thinks they should just charge service fees. Spike doesn’t exactly understand business. So I tried to explain that nobody would want to invest in a bank that simply charges them money for the privilege of investing. People with money want to make money. You can’t change this. (No matter how much of a hippy you are.)

Of course, the bottom line here is that we’re both too ignorant to be making an argument here, and in no position to do anything about any of these problems anyway.

“So that’s you attitude? Nothing can be done? The hell with the world?”

“That’s not what I said.”

And finally, on our way back to his place, where I was going to watch some stupid video he found that I would supposedly find humorous, he made it completely clear to me that he simply didn’t understand how to argue properly.

“…because basically you’re just arguing ‘blah, blah, blah,’” he says.

“Are you serious? ‘Blah, blah, blah?’ You can’t even repeat the gist of what I just said?”

“I stopped listening.”

“Really?” I asked. I found it amazing how his brain simply switched off when logic came into play. So at that moment, I made the best decision I’d made all night.

“You know what, I’m going home.” For at least an hour, I’d already been wondering what in the hell I was doing with him anyway.

“Okay, peace,” he says as he heads his separate way, as if to say all was fine between us. All is not fine between us. He’s left a very sour taste in my mouth, and I’m left thinking that he and I have simply grown apart. I don’t like him. I don’t respect him; I think he’s a complete hypocrite because he spends all his time talking about changing the world, but he never actually does anything about it.

Earlier in the evening, he’d told me he wanted to feel he had a positive effect on the world. He seems to think his good deed is to inform everybody of the evils of capitalism. I find it tedious, particularly how condescending, out-of-turn, and frankly rude he is when he argues like that. It doesn’t have a positive effect on anyone. Spike can drain the life from a room – I’ve seen it. It's quite impressive, actually. He’s like a conversational vampire. Or a smart bomb – he can clear a room really quickly.

This general unpleasantness of his has sort of crept up over the years. I keep thinking perhaps that’s what makes it so hard for me to see. The first time N/A met him, she hated his guts. And N/A is a really sweet woman who never hated anybody, with the two exceptions of my Auntie Flo, and Spike. I suppose what she thought of him shouldn’t matter to me now, but really, at this point I feel the same way about him as she does.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Career Fairing

I went to a career fair today, and of all the booths available, there were only three I was actually eligible to look at, given my skill set. Sales.

Hang on a second though. Before you jump to any conclusions, one of them sounded quite intriguing – it’s selling art on a cruise ship.

The perks? I don’t pay for rent, or food. I’d probably have to share a room with another guy, but lets face it, there’s worse things. I get to see the world. Well, parts of it, and over and over again, but at least I’d be able to say I’d been there.

I won’t have much of a social life, but then again, I hardly see anyone here at home anyway. And I’d be getting away from my family, which is something I’ve wanted anyway. No more debates with the folks about my joblessness. No more living in a big heap of other people’s junk. No more pointless visits to Grandma Depressia to listen to her complain about things she clearly doesn’t even understand. No more watching Grandma Loopy crap herself and choke on her food – hoping to high hell that this just might be the choke that does her in. No more babysitting the overly energetic rambunctious little rascal that is my cousin. No more mindless catch-up banter with my many other relatives. I would be far away from them all, and they would be far from anything on my mind. And of course, I can never get far enough away from Auntie Flo.

I just have to pass a tox screen and a medical. I will. And I need a passport, which I have. If I’m selected for training, they’ll fly me to the states and pay for my hotel, and if it doesn’t work out, they’ll fly me home. I don’t really think I can lose, and the timing in my life couldn’t be better. I’m still in my twenties, with no girlfriend or mortgage, or let’s face it, any kind of future, and I still haven’t done the whole travel-the-world thing, or worked very much. This is a chance to do both in one shot.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Just another day at the office...

I'm at the office today, for the second time, just for the day. Just filling in for others.
Sorry for my truancy from blogger of late, but the good news is that I've been away long enough for there to be actual news. Just not very much news. Not yet, anyway.
I got myself a suit and some nice shoes over the week-end, and I'm going to a job fair tomorrow, hopefully to find some places which may be looking for a man with my skill set.
I haven't had a real grown-up job in like, well, ever, so at this point the notion of getting one doesn't even seem real. I've grown so used to being asked what I'm doing with my life, and just shrugging my shoulders. And now every time either of my parents poke their head into my room I'm dreading the third degree - to the point where I simply don't want to talk to them at all. At this point I wonder if when I finally do find decent employment if that feeling will go away.
And on the subject of stream of consciousness, let me tell you another story, about my Auntie Flo. She has, without fail, done something to insult, annoy or horrify me every single time she has ever profaned me with her presence. It has reached the point where ever hearing her name, and learning that she's thinking of coming to visit, that I become distraught. She enters a room, and suddenly I feel like a trapped animal and I want to gnaw my own arm off to escape, rather than stick around to find out what new insane thing she's going to do or say.
My Auntie flow has been known to yell at friends of mine she's never met before, before even saying hello - yelling at them over some insane house rule she's got into her head. The rules of MY house, and not hers. She does this one all the time. She once accused my friends of throwing her coat on the floor, after she precariously balanced it on a window sill. Even a sub-normal brain should theoretically be able to figure out that when you place things haphazardly like that, sometimes they fall.
Oh, and speaking of stream of consciousness, and this is sort of embarrassing, really, but the other day, my sister asked me when I chose "Auntie Flo" to describe her, of all things. I said I just like the ring it had to it. It's a name I took from a play called "The Well Being." And so my sister says that women use the term "auntie flo" as a euphemism for their menstrual period.
See, I didn't know that, but it occurs to me that it's actually really obvious. And now that I know this, it makes the name that much more brilliant. The runner up name for her, "Heinous Bitch" while colorful and descriptive, it just doesn't have that subtle finesse. She really does behave as though she's constantly on her rag, though she is in fact, post-menopausal. And of course, whenever my Auntie Flo comes to town, it really does feel like I’m having my own menstrual period.
And speaking of Auntie Flo, the last e-mail she sent round was advising the rest of my family that I should seek therapy. There's clearly something wrong with me - there must be, because I don't have a job, right? I must be.
Next time she visits and asks me what I'm planning for the near future, I'm tempted to say:
"Oh, well, you remember that e-mail you sent round to everyone? Well, we all took it to heart, and I'm checking into a long-term adult care facility. They'll take good care of me there. Also, I've advised Grandma Depressia to forward my entire inheritance to you."
"Yeah, of course. I mean, lord knows you need it more than I do, what with your extravagant spending habits and all. Take my sister's, too. She got a scholarship anyway, so she doesn't need it. That way you can have lots of money to piss away long before you retire. Well, assuming you don't siphon off the rest of her money first, you selfish conniving heinous bitch."
But don't worry; I won't.

Thursday, June 5, 2008

Losing Someone Dear

Last night my dad, sister, and I had dinner at Grandma Loopy’s. He worked very hard to make sure everything was just right. We got coffee from a great coffee place – black, just the way she lakes it. We got pizza from a really great pizza place, and my dad bought her flowers. Now, I’ve never understood why anybody would want to buy a vase full of dying foliage and give it to a loved one as a gift, but I do know what it’s supposed to mean. We had a nice dinner together, and then we left, and not two minutes after we left, she was on the phone to my mother, asking when her son would be there with dinner.

My father was devastated. He couldn’t believe that she’d forgotten everything he’d done for her birthday. I think he’s still in denial. He talks to her every day – before he visits her. He calls her to tell her he’s on his way. I’m not really sure why he does this, because she will invariably go on doing whatever she’s doing, and not remember that he called. My mother thinks the reason she calls looking for him directly after a visit is that she’s still think about him when he’s left – she just can’t remember why.

She also crapped herself at the dinner table last night, but I was the only one close enough to smell it. So I just moved to a further chair. I didn’t have the heart to tell my father.

I had a dream about N/A last night. I don’t even know what to make of it. I was calling her on the phone from a department store. I think it was Christmas, and I’d gotten her a gift, or was trying to get her a gift. When I heard her voice, she told me she had a son.

“You have a son?” I gasped, trying to sound excited and not devastated. “What’s his name?”

“T.V.V.” a response I couldn’t make sense of.

“Stevie V.?”

“Teavey V.”

I think I realized at that moment that she was really gone. She had her own life now.

Maybe I’m thinking about her because I saw her in a photo on facebook the other day – just some random photo that a male Torontonian friend of mine – my only remaining link to her – was also in. There was another girl in the photo too. They were all really drunk, and all really happy. I liked that, but it’s still painful to see her again. She never drank while we dated, and I always wondered what she’d be like when she really cut loose. I guess I’ll never really know.

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Scenario #2: Prombies!

Dance, Zombies, Dance!

Players: 5 (4 heroes, 1 zombie player)

Turns: 17


  1. Place the school tile and 3 other random tiles around the center of town.
  2. Hero players may only choose characters with the keyword student. Regardless of what their card says, all players start in the school gymnasium.
  3. At the start of the game, the zombie player(s) may place one zombie outside the gym for every student inside, and an additional spawning pit inside the school. For the rest of the game, zombie spawning is automatic.
  4. At the start of the game, each student takes one of the numbered tiles, which they keep face down for the duration of the game. The hero who holds the 1, is the one who summoned the zombies, or the summoner for short.

Special Bonuses and Penalties:

  1. Female players experience a -1 penalty to their movement until they can ditch their awkward high-heeled shoes (at the cost of a move or a search.)
  2. As long as the Prom Queen is wearing her shoes, she gets an extra attack die, and wins on ties. “This is my prom, and I’m taking it back!”

Victory Conditions:

Heroes: Survive until sun-up, and the summoner must be (un)dead, or not in play.

Zombies: Kill 4 students, or keep the summoner alive until sun-up.*

Revealing the Summoner:

When one hero ends his turn on the same square as another hero, that hero may chose to interrogate the other hero. Both heroes lose their next turn, but on their next turn, they both turn their number tiles face up. This action cannot be interrupted by zombie cards.

When a hero dies:

  1. Heroes respawn, but new heroes must draw a new number tile, unless the summoner has already been revealed.
  2. When the summoner dies, his/her true colors are revealed, and he/she always becomes a zombie hero, regardless of where the sun track marker is. The player may now respawn indefinitely as this zombie hero, and draws one zombie card per turn. (Hand limit 2. Card may be kept while zombie character is “dead” but may only be played while he/she is in play on the board.)

*NB: The death of the summoner does not count towards the zombie kill total. Also note that whether the zombie player knows who the summoner is or not, the zombies must still attack the summoner if it is their only option.


It was the night they had all been waiting for. Exams were finished, and the students at Gravecrest High school couldn’t wait to pretty themselves up and go to the prom. Hopefully, tonight would be the night they express their true feelings to that special someone.

However, one particular student’s feelings were trampled when their long-time crush went to the prom with their best friend. So this particular student decided to invite some unsavory and unwelcome guests to make this a night that no one would ever forget as long as they lived, however long or short that might be.

Scenario #1: Zombiegeddon

Zombies and Slashers and Comets, Oh My!

Players: 7 (5 heroes, 1 zombie master, and Jason)

Turns: 20


Place the church and morgue tiles on opposite sides of the center of town. The other two tiles are random.

Optional rules:

  1. Jason and the zombie player may choose to work together or independently.
  2. There are two different endgames, which all players must agree on before the game begins. You can also agree to have it determined randomly by a die roll when endgame time comes.


Heroes: Destroy all spawning pits, all zombies, and Jason

Zombies in league with Jason: Kill 5 heroes

Zombies working alone: Kill 3 heroes before Jason does.

Jason working alone: Kill 3 heroes before the Zombies do.

Turn Order:

  1. Zombies
    1. Draw as many zombie cards as spawning pits (hand limit 5, minimum 2)
    2. Zombies move and/or attack
    3. Zombies respawn automatically (D3 -1 per spawning pit, and D3 +1 when there is only one spawning pit left.)
  2. Jason
    1. Roll for D6 movement. (Jason can move through walls. Jason must always move towards a hero, if it allows him to enter an attacking range. This includes melee and missile attacks.)
    2. If Jason does not move, and he is inside a building, he may either take a hand weapon from the discard pile or search the top hero card. If it is not a weapon, it is discarded immediately, and Jason finds nothing.
    3. Jason may fire any guns in hand.
    4. Jason attacks every hero in his square.
  3. Heroes
    1. The conventional rules apply


  1. Heroes – When a hero dies, he/she draws a new random hero, or on 5+ the hero may choose who to play next.
  2. Zombies – Spawning is automatic. (D3 -1 per spawning pit, and D3 +1 when there is only one spawning pit left.)
  3. Jason – When Jason is killed, he respawns in D3 turns from the nearest remaining spawning pit.

*Note: Regardless of where the sun track marker is, heroes killed by Jason never become zombies, unless they already feel strange, and have exceeded their capacity for wounds.

Destroying the Spawning Pits (3 Ways):

  1. Light and throw dynamite at the spawning pit. A direct hit will destroy it.
  2. Place a gas canister on the spawning pit from an adjacent square and light it with fire, or shoot with any gun.
  3. A character with the keyword holy can perform an exorcism. To do this, the hero must stand directly on the spawning pit, and than take a wound. This hero must then survive all zombie attacks until the next hero turn. If the hero survives, the exorcism is successful and any other undead on the square are permanently removed from the game.

*NB: Jason has the ability to pick-up undetonated gas canisters, move them, and detonate them. Heroes may also shoot the gas canister while Jason is holding it for an instant KO.

Killing Them Zombies for Good:

If Jason or a zombie is killed by a character with the keyword Holy while inside the Church, it is killed permanently, and removed from the game.


There are 2 alternate ways to determine victors, should no one meet their goal by sun-up:

  1. The Kill-Tally Method: At sun-up, the player(s) with the most kills wins, but the heroes’ kills are tallied as follows: Zombies do not count towards their kill total. Jason counts as 1 only if he was killed permanently. The heroes get 1 kill point for every spawning pit they destroyed. In the event of a tie, the heroes win. Jason has the tiebreaker between himself and zombies, if they chose not to work together.
  2. The Sudden Death Method: At sun-up, a meteor shower hits the town, and the meteorite destroys one quadrant at the end of each hero turn, determined by a D6 roll at the beginning of every zombie turn. This essentially gives any player in that quadrant one turn to get out before it is destroyed, and removed from the game. Heroes cannot respawn during sudden death mode, and kill totals are ignored. The game ends when only heroes or Jason and zombies remain. (If Jason is against the zombies, they must also kill off each other.) Note: the meteor shower counts as rain. (Jason and all heroes have a move penalty of -1.)


The Book of Revelation foretold a time when the dead and the living would live together as one, but the congregation of Last Chance Church didn’t think it would be so soon.

“There’s an evil force in town,” shouts Jake Cartwright. “I reckon you felt it too, father.”

Indeed there are two evil forces in town to be reckoned with. Not only have the zombies returned, but this time, the evil-undead-slasher-hellspawn Jason Voorhees is in town, lusting for only one thing – the blood of the innocent.

“Indeed I fear a very dark night ahead of us,” replies father Joseph.

“Welcome home, Jake,” says Sheriff Anderson, as he cocks his gun. “Let’s do what we should’ve done a long time ago. Let’s put these evil bastards to rest for good.”

Last Night on Earth - Hero Cards

Fun Little Distractions #1 “Last Night on Earth.”

Hey readers. My apologies for lagging behind in my blog entries of late. I’ve been working on a few other things, one of which I’m shortly going to publish a blog entry about.

Every Sunday I go to Ema Nymton’s place to play a board game called Last Night on Earth. Those of you who are completely in the dark on the matter and want to check the website, click the link. For those of you who’d rather just get a quick summary, read on.

In a nutshell, it is a boardgame about teamwork – in the face of a zombie invasion. The heroes can pick up weapons and medical supplies and try to help one another, while one or two zombie players bombard them. It’s great fun for 2 to 6 people, but the best part of all, is how customizable the game is.

This brings me to my next entry, in which I’ve created six custom characters, and two custom scenarios. Ema, and Seven Ravens in fact, this next one’s for you.