Thursday, July 26, 2007

A Break From The Daily Grind...

...of inventing evil machines of death, torturing the innocent, eating human flesh, and creating undead minions in an attempt to take over the world.

That's right, dear reader. Everybody's favorite undead evil genius is taking a vacation. I'll be gone for the next week, enjoying the coolth of the Atlantic Ocean whilst burning my sensitive and pasty complexion in the brutal sun of Myrtle Beach SC.

Truth be told - I've needed a break for a while. I've been busting my ass and, although it's paid off (I was just this week permanently moved into the position I've been loaned out to at my day job. I'm writing for a living now AND they gave me a promotion. Woot!), I still need some time on a beach with Mrs. Zombie, Zombie Boy, and Wolf-girl.

Sooo. No computers. No evil oscillating death rays. Not even the cell phone. I am dropping off the face of the planet for the next week.

All right - I take that back. I will most likely bring my laptop, but only to work on my new novel. I won't log in at all. I promise you that!

So. For those readers from South Carolina. Be afraid. Be very afraid. The Doctor's coming to YOUR neighborhood, and I've got my bag of rusty and sharp instruments. If I were you, I wouldn't answer the door late at night for the next week or so. I might be there, standing in the flickering glow of your porch light with a predatory smile and an evil hunger...

Thursday, July 19, 2007

De doo doo doo, de da da da..

So much stuff rattling around in my undead head…

I can now die happy (erm…I mean die AGAIN)! I went to Cleveland’s Quicken Loans Arena on Monday and saw the Police Reunion Tour!!! All I can say was – “Fucking Awesome!!!” Mrs. Zombie went with me (largely because I made her go. I wanted to share with her the wonder that is The Police.) And, as she only knew about half of the songs, she has been making fun of me all week because I knew EVERY song.

Now - - all we need is for Sting, Andy, and Stewart to spend some time together on their private Lear Jet writing some new stuff. How unbelievably orgasmic would it be to have a new Police studio album for the first time in 20+ years? I’ve got goosebumps just thinking about it…

So, what else is going on with Doctor Zombie? Well – it’s weird that I seem to be reconnecting with EVERYBODY from my past. Seriously. In the last two or three weeks I’ve gotten in touch with or run into every one of my old college roommates. Three or so weeks ago, I stumbled on my old roommate Jason’s Livejournal account and we’ve started emailing. That’s the first serious communication we’ve had in probably 10 or more years. My close, close friend/brother Dr. Aron had to send me an email from his iPhone(and put that he did so IN THE EMAIL!) because… well, because he’s a dick. All right, he’s not REALLY a dick. He’s actually a great guy and I love him anyway…

Then, at the Police concert, I run into my two OTHER college roommates, Ber and Shelly. You may remember, back when I first mentioned the police were touring, I mentioned two twins who I grew up with. Well, Shelly was one of them. And Ber I met at Bowling Green. Because of the politics and social dynamics of my drama-loving group of friends, Shelly doesen’t particularly care for me much anymore. But, you know what? I don’t care. It was still great to see her and say, “Hi”. The truth of the matter is that her and her sister are two of my oldest friends in the world and I still care for them both a lot.

Ber and I keep reconnecting every couple of years, and then manage to fall out of contact again. It looks like she’s starting her own graphic design company in Chicago, so I figure I’ll try to be better about staying in touch. If she’ll have it. (Like Shelly, there’s history there that is quite drama filled. Meh. Whatever. I’m too old and surly to care about past greivances. All I know is I miss some of my old friends and it’s nice to see them. )

Got some links!

Neat science story explaining things that evolution left behind. If you’re a Fundie, or a Creationism-believing, Intelligent Design adherent (and/or a moron)…you may want to look away. This sort of irrefutable scientific proof tends to overload your poor simple, minds.

This article I found on Wired just seemed really, really cool. It’s about the phenomenon of mileage running. Not that I’d have the time, money, or fortitude to do something like this… but there is a certain appeal in the singleminded determination and will it takes to totally game the system like this. My brother Richie would be ALL over this! He’s always looking for some way to stick it to The Man with The Man’s own rules.

Squeal! Eek! Frelling Farscape! Thank you, oh great dark, science fiction gods! This is the single greatest piece of news I’ve seen in months (besides the whole Police thing. That’s hard to top.) But for chrissake’s! Fucking Farscape is coming back! Can I dare hope, nee dare, nee dream, that they’ll get the whole cast together and maybe do another movie or…eep!...maybe even bring the SHOW ITSELF BACK?!?!

Oooohhh! Edited to add this short movie that uses captures from GoogleEarth. This is so creative, so awesome, so deliciously dark and creepy! Dammit I'm jealous I didn't think of it first! Trust me, wait until the end. The pay off is horrific and chilling and gobs of morbid fun!

And on that note, I must retire to my laboratory hidden deep beneath the Theater of Terror. I have to feed some of my more nightmarish experimental subjects…

Now where did I put my shoggoth prod?

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Vox Deus

Feast your eyes upon the baddest man on the planet!!!!!

I could only hope to be this cool...

In fact, this is so cool on so many fucking levels it's mind-boggling. It's so damned cool I had to go out and buy me some Old Spice.

Now Mrs. Zombie, she was against it. She gave me some crap about how her Dad wears Old Spice. She said something like, "Don't you even think about wearing Old Spice to our bed! Do you want to scar me for fucking life?!? Do you NEVER want to have sex with me again?!?"


Dammit! It's a simple equation: Bruce Campbell says "Ahoy!" and "Buy some Old Spice!". So what's a guy to do? Is it right to deny the commands of one's god?

So, I ran out this last weekend to the local Target and picked me up some Old Spice Signature. That's right - you read that right - Old Spice Signature. I splurged and bought the high test, premium Old Spice. Instead of $4, I paid $6 for the top of the line cologne por homme.

So I went out to the car, hosed myself down just like I imagine Bruce would have, and hurried home, my loins a-twitter and itching for some action.

"Don't give me any of your guff!" says I to Mrs. Zombie, "Get your hot, sexy butt upstairs woman! I'm wrapped in the musk of some Old Spice and I'm feeling all...Rrrrooowwwr!"

It didn't work as well as I thought it would. In fact, and in all honesty, Mrs. Zombie beat me unconscious. But I swear I'm going to try again this weekend. If some Old Spice can make me anywhere as cool as Bruce "Evil Dead" Campbell, I'm sure it'll work out for me and my little zombie...

Hungry like the wolf, Bruce. Hungry like the wolf, indeed...

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Drinking Tips

I don’t really drink much anymore. Of course, I do have a few beers every few weekends, or when I go out to dinner. I also have a few beers and some whiskey every time I go to my Dad’s (we’re Irish, so that means you HAVE to drink. If you’re Irish, you’re genetically predisposed to early cirrhosis.)

Part of the reason I don’t drink is because I had some issues with my liver. If you remember, I had to suffer the extreme suckfest that was a liver biopsy a year or so ago. Although they found that my liver function was just naturally high, Mrs. Zombie still keeps a tight grip on my balls when it comes to the drinking. Too much beer - and squeeze from Mrs. Zombie. Too much Guinness at me Da’s - and squeeze and twist by Mrs. Zombie.

Mrs. Zombie feels very strongly about the benefits of negative reinforcement.

Another barrier to the drinking for me is Ohio’s drunk driving laws. We have this program where, if you get busted driving under the influence, they have an ingenious way to ensure that you are properly punished. In addition to the usual penalties (suspension of license, weekend in jail, name printed in the paper, etc.) here in Ohio, they give you special plates for a time period established by the presiding judge. These plates, which are bright yellow with bright red lettering, proclaim to the whole world that you are a dumbass who chose to foolishly drive drunk. It’s very Nathanial Hawthorne, Hester Prynne, and the Scarlet Letter. And I know people who’ve had what we here in Ohio affectionately call “Party Plates.” People will seriously pull up next to you at lights and point and laugh and call you an asshole. Never mind that, by virtue of having the highly visible plates, any law enforcement officer can pull you over – at any time – to make sure you’re not drunk driving. I know a guy who gets stopped at least once a day. Can you say Probable Cause, baby?!?

Fuck a bunch of that noise.

So what got me thinking about this? Well, my brothers Phil and Richie an I are finally at a point – family-wise - where we can actually get together a little more often. I’ve actually started working days and I’m actively trying to get them join a dart league or something. One can’t let happy hours go to waste, can one?!?

Also, we’re planning on getting some season tickets to or newest minor league hockey team – The Lake Erie Monsters, so we’ll be frequently downtown, drinking Guinness and Labatt’s by the kegful. Noice!

The sad thing is, the three of us were once a formidable force. Unfortunately, our powers have waned some. That doesn’t mean we aren’t above a little binge drinking – what’s a severely damaged liver between friends? – it’s just that I have a bad feeling about this.

So – in honor of my coming debauchery – I thought I’d share some things I’ve learned while drinking over the years. These are rules I live by, guidelines I occasionally follow, and idiotic things that I probably should have learned from but obviously didn’t:

My brother Richie sets the bar for drinking. If Richie says, at any point, “I’ve drank so much I can’t see!” – everybody needs to stop drinking. If it’s gotten to this point, someone else is most likely going to the hospital to get their stomach pumped to avoid alcohol poisoning.

Tequila – for some odd reason – makes me think that the world wants to see me naked. This is most likely attributed to the fact that I was introduced to tequila in college at a party in Chicago. The fact that I split a bottle with a gorgeous actress named Carol doing body shots may have something to do with the nakedness thing. So… no tequila. Ever. Especially when at work functions or with people I don’t want to see me naked.

No matter how hot the bartender is, no matter how long you’ve known her, don’t ever let her make drinks up for you, because, quite honestly, vomit is never funny. Especially vomit in a friend’s car. Especially if they don’t drink. I’m still soooo sorry about that Jay-Jay…

Jagermeister is bad. Ouzo is really, really bad. *Gag*.

Everclear, when done as a straight shot, will burn your throat and leave you hoarse for days.

You can say all you want about tequila worms. You can even say you’ll never, ever eat the worm. That’s all well and good until you’re halfway into a bottle of Jose Cuervo. At that point, you’ll eat live earth worms from the front yard. No one knows why this is.

Despite popular myth… Guinness, like revenge, is best served cold.

Turning a shot glass upside down, filling the depression with vodka, and then snorting it like cocaine will guarantee a bloody nose, as well as a blackout later that evening.

Never let our buddy Matt drink an entire bottle of Glen Fiddich Scotch in the time it takes one to go to the bathroom. This will ensure that, at some point, you’ll need to talk to the cops and explain why Matt is running around with a pair of boxer shorts around his head, screaming that I – Doctor Z. – am the Antichrist and the Dark One. He will then try to destroy me with drunken kung fu. This will lead – inexplicably – to both of us getting tazered, beat with nightsticks, and thrown into the back of a cruiser. I still don’t know what I did to deserve this…

Great Lakes Brewery has the best beer. Especially their seasonal Halloween brew – Nosferatu. Mmmmm…

If, after drinking a galaxy of Guinness at the local pub’s Two-For-One night, it will never, ever please Mrs. Zombie to have my brothers screech up to the house and kick my unconscious body out of the car into a snow drift on the tree lawn. It will make her even more mad if, after she wakes you from said snow pile, you start singing Irish drinking songs loud enough to wake the neighbors.

And my final piece of drinking wisdom, the one thing that is probably the most important thing I’ve learned in my years of alcohol abuse, is this: With the exception of Guinness, never drink draft beer. I’m not as young as I used to be, and I can’t drink like I used to. Whereas I might have blithely killed a keg back in college, a night of heavy drinking at this point in my life warrants an inordinately large recovery time. Drinking draft beer will ensure a headache and the dreaded Swamp Ass. (That’s where you spend the whole next day with the shits and your ass is…well, swamp-like. You know what I mean, right? It’s like a swamp in that it is hot and wet all day. ) So stick to bottles!

Hmmm… I think I’ll have a few beers tonight…

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

October Dreams...

So I’ve a huge decision to make. I’ve been given permission by Mrs. Zombie to tentatively attend Zombiefest in October. Zombiefest is a zombie themed horror convention in the home of zombies – Pittsburgh. In fact, it’s actually taking place at the world famous Monroeville Mall. For those who don’t know what that is (and you should be ashamed if you don’t, my lovely undead minions!), it’s the mall where the great George Romero filmed the zombie classic Dawn of the Dead. George, as you should all know, is from Pittsburgh and it’s in the Pittsburgh area that he filmed all three of the Holy Trinity of zombie films; Night of the Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead, and Day of the Dead.

On the list of can’t miss events are a Zombie Fest and Art Show, a Zombie Ball (zombie makeup and formal funeral wear optional) and an attempt to break the guinness Book of World Records record for the largest zombie walk ever.

Dear, dark pagan gods - - it’s going to fucking rock!!!

I’m almost thinking of making a weekend of it. Perhaps doing a zombie pilgrimage. I’ll go to the events at the Monroeville Mall, take a little jaunt over to the Evansville Cemetary (where Johnny famously said, “They’re coming to get you, Barbara! They’re coming!”), and maybe even a quick trip up to the former Wampum Mine (AKA the Gateway Commerce Center) where they filmed Day.

Pittsburgh is truly like Mecca to zombie flick fans. (Despite its horrifyingly bad football team and inbred, retarded football fans. One could almost say it’s an amazing mix of the truly sublime and grotesque!)

So – I’m excited about a weekend of zombies, Yuengling lager, and perhaps even meeting some of those wacky denizens from Zombie Squad. (They’ll have a table there. It’ll be cool to finally meet some of those crazy cats.)

So, you may be asking, what the fuck is the problem? Why are you bitching and moaning and complaining about having to make a decision? Well, dear reader, that’s the rub.

You see, in November I generally go on two major hunting trips. The first is at Veteran’s Day during the peak of the Ohio whitetail rut for bow hunting. The second is the weekend after Thanksgiving for the Ohio deer shotgun season. Considering that Zombiefest is the weekend before Halloween, Mrs. Zombie has put down her foot. (And it’s an odd foot. Mrs. Zombie is gorgeous and very pleasing to Dr. Zombie’s undead eye, but her feet leave something to be desired. She has strange mutant-like feet. They’re like Fred Flintstone’s feet. She sticks them out of the bottom of the car and starts it with her oddly shaped feet every morning. I love Mrs. Zombie…but I fear her feet. But I digress…)

Anyway, she’s put down her funky foot and said that, yes, I can attend Zombiefest - - but I need to give up a hunting trip. That, my dear readers, sucks. It sucks bad.

What’s an undead, evil scientist to do?

Sigh. Decisions, decisions.

I do know that I will be attending Zombiefest, so I suppose I’ll need to figure out the whole hunting thing at another time. That said… I wanted to extend an invitation to anybody who wants to join me at Zombiefest. I know a lot of my friends read this frequently as a means of keeping tabs on what I’m up to - -so I wanted to encourage all of you to email or call me. I want to invite you all to join me on the hajj to Zombieland USA.

We’ll camp somewhere near Pittsburgh, attend Zombiefest, and cause general mayhem and public disorder.

And for those who are saying, “Great! D’s going on and on about the zombies again. Sheesh!” I promise it’ll be fun. Really!

So check out the link, mark it on your calender, and consider it!

You won’t regret it!

Now go, I must feed and I don’t want to offend anyone’s delicate sensibilities. Eating human flesh is, apparently, off putting to some.