I’ve been sitting on this particular post for a while now. The last few months has bore witness to snow storms, weddings, my sister’s new house (to-be-constructed), my brother’s new house (to-be-bought), and a burgeoning addiction to Blizzard’s Hearthstone, which like all obsessions in my life (i.e. women, writing, chess, MMORPGs) I kinda suck at. As such, the blog has received the short-end of the time-sink, a fact I’d remedy here soon. We may have received tickets to Comicon in San Diego this summer. More on that later! In the meantime, join us as the Murphey clan goes laser-tagging, much to our own amusement.
“Blimey, ‘ere we ‘ave the female white girl in ‘er natural attire,” Sean whispered to Shannon in his best – that is most stereotypical – impersonation of the crocodile hunter. “Brown boots and leggings, tools of cunning to attract potential mates . . .”
“Shutup, Sean,” Bree snarled strapping on her suit, now glowing blue in the darkness. “I am not dressed like this to ‘attract mates.’”
She feigned a glancing shot with her laser gun at grinning brothers before continuing.
In my experience, nothing excites and unnerves a geek more than pitting his (or her) favorite imaginary character against a rival fictional character in a hypothetical showdown to the figurative death. Nothing. My good friend, Rodney, believes with every fiber of his being that Jason Bourne epitomizes ‘badass.’ Yeah, Matt Damon . . . badass . . . My friend is somewhat goofy in the head. Rodney has even gone to such lengths to name his iPhone after the chronic amnesiac, and dubbing himself ‘The Rod Identity,’ secret sidekick to the world’s most kickass secret agent Again, the guy’s goofy in the head.
Still like all zealots, Rodney actively sought altercations with those who believed Mr. Bourne had proven himself . . . slightly less-than-awesome. As so often was the case, the argument exploded from a deep intellectual discussion on the quality of Hugh Jackman’s performance in The Wolverine while on vacation last July . . .
We had just exited the theater at Downtown Disney, a cornucopia of Disney merchandise, theme restaurants, and — my favorite — AMC theaters. Both Ryan and Rodney, having tragically lost half-a-dozen tennis matches two weeks prior owed the gang lunch, ice cream, and a few hours at the local cineplex. We had spent much of the day at Animal Kingdom, sweating in lines and jumping between sunshine and deluges of afternoon thunderstorms. As the evening sky cleared, we felt grateful for the safety of soft red velvet and an air-conditioned movie theater. I had suggested Marvel’s latest superhero tale — thus, harmonizing my love for Japanese culture with my passion for Canadian mutant assassins — at AMC’s Dine-in theater where we snacked on sushi, mozzarella sticks, and bread pudding . . . mmmm.