Showing posts with label quizzo [sic] bowl. Show all posts
Showing posts with label quizzo [sic] bowl. Show all posts
Friday, March 28, 2008
Your Big Weekend Semi-Quizo Update
A quick little infodump to ease you into the weekend:
The finals of the Dark Horse Quizo Tournament of Champions are, of course, this coming Monday night in the restaurant. The teams competing for the top prize of a significant sum of money are Das Boot, Oprah's Book Club, Alias Pseudonym Undercover, Rod Torfelsen's Armada, and Filipino Grigio. There will also be a bunch of other stuff given away - check the website and scroll down to the original rules post to see just what. I expect funtastic things.
Secondly, tomorrow night (aka "Saturday") is quizmaster extraordinaire Johnny Goodtimes' Quizzo [sic] Bowl IV. It's at the Blue Horizon on Broad Street, which I can say at the very least is a great place to watch boxing. I also expect it to be a great time and am mildly displeased that I'm not going to be there.
The Dark Horse is sending a juiced-up squad of players selected from a bunch of our own teams - seriously, they asked me for steroids - appropriately named the Dark Horse All-Stars. I don't know if their team is full yet - I believe at last count they had 6 of the required 8 - but if you want to find out I recommend e-mailing Dr. Dan at danieltnevin@yahoo.com. At this point I know they have folks from Das Boot, Oprah's and Alias, so this is already a high-powered team. They're like the Avengers, though I believe they still might need a Hank Pym. Ask Dan.
If you want to cheer them on or even enter your own upstart team, hit up JGT himself at johnnygoodtimes@hotmail.com or head for his site, aptly named www.johnnygoodtimes.com, and get yourself some tickets.
I expect a full report on the action come Monday.
As always, should you or any members of your Quizo team completely choke the Dark Horse will disavow any knowledge of your supposed trivia skills.
This message will self-destruct in five seconds. Good luck, Dan.
JLK
Monday, February 12, 2007
Your "If You Build It, He Will Come" Quizo Update
Normally, once I'm done with a show (Medea - you may have heard about it) I like to take something of a mini-vacation to unwind. I couldn't do so last weekend because of Quizo Bowl 3 and the Rex Grossman Is the Worst Quarterback in the History of Everything Bowl, but I finally got my chance this past weekend, and oh what a vacation it was.
I slept. I watched season 2 of Battlestar Galactica on DVD. I played Guitar Hero.
That's pretty much it.
It was very restful
I got back sometime last night and was subjected to trying to watch television with my dad. In the past this has been... I would say "trying" experience but that doesn't quite cover it. "Excruciating" experience is a bit closer but still comes well short of the mark. Let's see what thesaurus.com can give me:
"acute, agonizing, burning, chastening, consuming, exquisite, extreme, grueling, harrowing, insufferable, intense, piercing, punishing, racking, rending, searing, severe, sharp, shooting, stabbing, tearing, tormenting, torturesome, torturing, torturous, unbearable, unendurable, violent"
Hmm... agonizing is good. Dunno about rending or stabbing necessarily, I don't think it ever actually broke the skin. Ooh, punishing, torturesome and unendurable, now THOSE are good.
So, as I was saying, for the longest time watching TV with my dad was punishing, torturesome (which GMail's spell check insists is not actually a word) and unendurable. He's one of those people who will constantly barrage (assail, bombard, batter, beset, beseige, ooh, cannonade) you with the most annoying questions while you're trying to watch something. "Who's that guy?" "What are they doing here?" "Is that guy somebody?" "What's going on?" "Now who's THAT guy?" "Why is that guy talking to that other guy?" "What are they talking about?"
And so forth.
This would go on the entire length of what you were watching, making actually viewing something almost impossible. At first I would remain calm and say "just watch the show, Dad" but he would never let up until a point a few months ago when I was trying to watch Lost and he started in on it and I finally just shouted "I WILL KILL YOU WITH THE FUCKING PLAYSTATION IF YOU DON'T STOP DOING THAT."
Now, at least, the questions have considerably lessened in output and have become somewhat relevant (accordant, applicatory, appurtenant, conformant... are those WORDS?) and, on occasion, can actually produce an amusing (agreeable, cheerful, comical, gladdening... gladdening? what the fuck is "gladdening?" I swear thesaurus.com is just screwing with me now) exchange. Take this from last night's Galactica:
Dad: Why does that guy have an eyepatch?
Me: The Cylons took his eye from him.
Dad: When did they do that?
Me: Uh.. for a while there the people were on this planet and they were, uh, occupied by the Cylons... it was kind of an Iraq allegory thing -
Dad: Eyepatch Dude is kind of a jerk.
Me: Yeah, well, he's still kinda pissy about killing his wife.
Dad: He killed his wife? Why?
Me: Well, er, when he was in prison his wife collaborated with the Cylons to help him out. And then when he found out about it he killed her.
Dad: Why are they acting like he's so important? I've never seen him before.
Me: He's the XO of the ship, Dad, he's been around the whole time.
Dad: Even before the Cylons took his eye?
Me: Yes, before that.
Dad: These people all seem really upset all the time.
Me: Life on Battlestar Galactica is not pleasant, no.
(we watch in blissful silence for a few seconds)
Dad: Wait, I thought Cylons were robots.
Me: They are robots.
Dad: But they just called that chick a Cylon.
Me: She is a Cylon.
Dad: You just said Cylons were robots.
Me: They... well, they ARE robots. Most of them. But some of them are robots who look like people.
Dad: Robots that look like people.
Me: Yes.
Dad: Where did that guy come from? The one the other chick is talking to. Is she a robot who looks like a person?
Me: Yeah, she's a robot... the guy... okay, see, he's a real person, and you thought he was crazy cause he talks to this vision of that blonde chick that only he can see, but then you found out later that one version of the blonde robot chick actually sees HIM in her head, and so that's pretty cool. So that's not really him, okay, that's just the vision of him in her head that only that specific robot can see. Because, you see, there's lots of copies of each KIND of robot, but only that ONE copy can see the guy in her head, so -
Dad: I'm going to bed.
All these years of frustration (annoyance, contravention, dissatisfaction, impediment ) and all I had to do to get him to shut up was to answer his questions.
JLK
I slept. I watched season 2 of Battlestar Galactica on DVD. I played Guitar Hero.
That's pretty much it.
It was very restful
I got back sometime last night and was subjected to trying to watch television with my dad. In the past this has been... I would say "trying" experience but that doesn't quite cover it. "Excruciating" experience is a bit closer but still comes well short of the mark. Let's see what thesaurus.com can give me:
"acute, agonizing, burning, chastening, consuming, exquisite, extreme, grueling, harrowing, insufferable, intense, piercing, punishing, racking, rending, searing, severe, sharp, shooting, stabbing, tearing, tormenting, torturesome, torturing, torturous, unbearable, unendurable, violent"
Hmm... agonizing is good. Dunno about rending or stabbing necessarily, I don't think it ever actually broke the skin. Ooh, punishing, torturesome and unendurable, now THOSE are good.
So, as I was saying, for the longest time watching TV with my dad was punishing, torturesome (which GMail's spell check insists is not actually a word) and unendurable. He's one of those people who will constantly barrage (assail, bombard, batter, beset, beseige, ooh, cannonade) you with the most annoying questions while you're trying to watch something. "Who's that guy?" "What are they doing here?" "Is that guy somebody?" "What's going on?" "Now who's THAT guy?" "Why is that guy talking to that other guy?" "What are they talking about?"
And so forth.
This would go on the entire length of what you were watching, making actually viewing something almost impossible. At first I would remain calm and say "just watch the show, Dad" but he would never let up until a point a few months ago when I was trying to watch Lost and he started in on it and I finally just shouted "I WILL KILL YOU WITH THE FUCKING PLAYSTATION IF YOU DON'T STOP DOING THAT."
Now, at least, the questions have considerably lessened in output and have become somewhat relevant (accordant, applicatory, appurtenant, conformant... are those WORDS?) and, on occasion, can actually produce an amusing (agreeable, cheerful, comical, gladdening... gladdening? what the fuck is "gladdening?" I swear thesaurus.com is just screwing with me now) exchange. Take this from last night's Galactica:
Dad: Why does that guy have an eyepatch?
Me: The Cylons took his eye from him.
Dad: When did they do that?
Me: Uh.. for a while there the people were on this planet and they were, uh, occupied by the Cylons... it was kind of an Iraq allegory thing -
Dad: Eyepatch Dude is kind of a jerk.
Me: Yeah, well, he's still kinda pissy about killing his wife.
Dad: He killed his wife? Why?
Me: Well, er, when he was in prison his wife collaborated with the Cylons to help him out. And then when he found out about it he killed her.
Dad: Why are they acting like he's so important? I've never seen him before.
Me: He's the XO of the ship, Dad, he's been around the whole time.
Dad: Even before the Cylons took his eye?
Me: Yes, before that.
Dad: These people all seem really upset all the time.
Me: Life on Battlestar Galactica is not pleasant, no.
(we watch in blissful silence for a few seconds)
Dad: Wait, I thought Cylons were robots.
Me: They are robots.
Dad: But they just called that chick a Cylon.
Me: She is a Cylon.
Dad: You just said Cylons were robots.
Me: They... well, they ARE robots. Most of them. But some of them are robots who look like people.
Dad: Robots that look like people.
Me: Yes.
Dad: Where did that guy come from? The one the other chick is talking to. Is she a robot who looks like a person?
Me: Yeah, she's a robot... the guy... okay, see, he's a real person, and you thought he was crazy cause he talks to this vision of that blonde chick that only he can see, but then you found out later that one version of the blonde robot chick actually sees HIM in her head, and so that's pretty cool. So that's not really him, okay, that's just the vision of him in her head that only that specific robot can see. Because, you see, there's lots of copies of each KIND of robot, but only that ONE copy can see the guy in her head, so -
Dad: I'm going to bed.
All these years of frustration (annoyance, contravention, dissatisfaction, impediment ) and all I had to do to get him to shut up was to answer his questions.
JLK
Monday, February 05, 2007
Your Return to Normal Quizo Update
After the... shall we say... generally adverse reaction to last week's e-mail I have once again returned to our regular format, providing you with your weekly dose of sarcasm and misery. This is not to say that I don't hope people occasionally laugh - though recent evidence indicates I am somewhat deficient in that specific area - but misery is more interesting, most of the time.
A brief wrapup of recent events:
Saturday morning saw Chelsea beat Charlton 1-0, which when you consider that Charlton may be the worst soccer team in the entire world (including, like, the Wissinoming under-11s) is not that great a result, especially when Andriy Shevchenko could have had about 4 goals if he would only remember that the key to scoring is to not kick the ball directly at the keeper. Chelsea's win did put us a scant three points behind Manchester United, though that certainly wouldn't last ( c.f. Sunday morning, a bit later)
Saturday night was Johnny Goodtimes Quizo Bowl 3, which my team would have won if I were not such a goddamned idiot. There was a time when I actually played Quizo quite regularly, but since it passed recently I have apparently gotten out of practice and am now subject to pathetic mistakes that cost me and my teammates many hundreds of dollars. I would hang my head in shame were I capable of shame or guilt; as it stands I merely get pissy at my teammates for not catching and correcting my wrong answers.
Sunday morning Manchester United was playing at Tottenham, who have an excellent record at home (9 wins of 12) and with a draw would close our gap on United to 4. Hell, a win would keep it at 3. Of course, neither of those things happened, Tottenham got absolutely thumped AT HOME 4-0 and drive United's goal difference into 6 figures. I spent most of Sunday morning and Sunday afternoon muttering "fucking Spurs..." to myself until just before the Super Bowl when I did my back carrying laundry, preventing me from going anyplace other than my couch for the game.
Then, of course, the game came on, and the Sex Cannon's antics made all the pain go away. We love you, Rex - never change. Not one bit.
Then Peyton Manning won the Super Bowl MVP and I got pissed again because he certainly doesn't deserve it. There's no justice, I swear.
JLK
A brief wrapup of recent events:
Saturday morning saw Chelsea beat Charlton 1-0, which when you consider that Charlton may be the worst soccer team in the entire world (including, like, the Wissinoming under-11s) is not that great a result, especially when Andriy Shevchenko could have had about 4 goals if he would only remember that the key to scoring is to not kick the ball directly at the keeper. Chelsea's win did put us a scant three points behind Manchester United, though that certainly wouldn't last ( c.f. Sunday morning, a bit later)
Saturday night was Johnny Goodtimes Quizo Bowl 3, which my team would have won if I were not such a goddamned idiot. There was a time when I actually played Quizo quite regularly, but since it passed recently I have apparently gotten out of practice and am now subject to pathetic mistakes that cost me and my teammates many hundreds of dollars. I would hang my head in shame were I capable of shame or guilt; as it stands I merely get pissy at my teammates for not catching and correcting my wrong answers.
Sunday morning Manchester United was playing at Tottenham, who have an excellent record at home (9 wins of 12) and with a draw would close our gap on United to 4. Hell, a win would keep it at 3. Of course, neither of those things happened, Tottenham got absolutely thumped AT HOME 4-0 and drive United's goal difference into 6 figures. I spent most of Sunday morning and Sunday afternoon muttering "fucking Spurs..." to myself until just before the Super Bowl when I did my back carrying laundry, preventing me from going anyplace other than my couch for the game.
Then, of course, the game came on, and the Sex Cannon's antics made all the pain go away. We love you, Rex - never change. Not one bit.
Then Peyton Manning won the Super Bowl MVP and I got pissed again because he certainly doesn't deserve it. There's no justice, I swear.
JLK
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
