Great jumping jeezus, people, just because I don't have the words "Editor" and "Dragon" or "Dungeon" in my title, and you throw me to this pack of ravenous savages?? I'll have you know that for about 45 minutes this evening, six went out to bring back delicions snacky thingies, leaving me alone - ALONE! - in the Paizo estate with one Mr. Jacobs. He promptly pounced upon me (not an easy feat, as both of us are at least 6'2" and 285 if an ounce), ripped out my heart and liver, reanimated me and plopped me in a chair in the conference room faster than you can say "alternate cover."
By the time The Others (as I now refer to the treacherous flesh-hungry hordes who are all conspiring to eat me) came back from their little "grocery run", I had set up a game of Descent. They returned with great heaping mountains of junk food that was promptly cooked and devoured (along with this bottle of plum wine that mysteriously appeared and just as mysteriously disappeared into glasses) while I was the DM of a quite rousing game while we watched all the chumps below on Richards Road slip and slide.
Little did they suspect it was Jacobs all along who had devoured my soul, and that I was nothing more than a reanimated spectre of my former self...
What's REALLY freaky weird is that leaving our office area...deserted. I-90 eastbound the first five miles or so, nothing. Then I hit SNOW. And I'm from Cincinnati, so to me "snow" begins once about four or five inches has begun to stick - anything less just isn't worth writing home about. On the last ten miles of my drive over the mountains to get home, I counted 116 cars and 41 trucks off the side of the road. I am not making this up.
What's even MORE freaky weird is that up here, where I live int he mountains, just a few miles from Snoqualmie Pass? Nothing. Just a few flurries. We're the ones who SHOULD be getting hammered, and yet the lowlands are being beaten like redheaded stepchildren at a West Virginia family reunion.
Either way, I escaped with my hide intact. FOR NOW....