Category Archives: Storytime


It was Thursday (technically 2AM Friday morning) before Blizzcon. My friends and I narrowly escaped the pre-party hosted by Ask Mr. Robot. We were roughly 23 beers deep and pizza had become a dire necessity. “It’s not breathtaking but, there’s a pizzeria near,” one of my companions suggested. “Fuck it!” I insisted. “It’s pizza and they’re open!” Perhaps, in retrospect, a cab would have been a better choice than hoofing it since we were all losing our bout with lucidity. Nevertheless, our impetuous journey began.


It resembled the quests from Vanilla Arathi Highlands that sent you across the map through droves of raptors and spiders five levels too high who came from 53 yards away to kick the shit out of you. It was exactly like that! The raptor that nearly sent me to the graveyard was my own bladder. We  had barely stumbled 300 yards from the Hilton door when my internal navigation plotted a new,  emergency course.  “Bro, I gotta go!” I urged. “I’m from Mississippi” Knutt slurred, “you know what I’m going to tell you!”  Just then, I had to drastically alter my trajectory. A very nice, young fella was washing a truck directly in my path – with a fucking hose pumping enough water to put out a forest fire! I could feel my bladder throbbing.. “Sorry sir.” I said to the saint. “Si!” He replied.

Now, I don’t speak much Spanish, but even I could recognize the kindness in this young man’s voice. “Hey ummm, look – I am going to die if I don’t find a restroom in about 17 seconds.” “Si?” He looked at me with an inquisitive gaze. I oozed desperation and pantomimed at the young man for 14 agonizing seconds. Finally, transcendence! The essence of Jesus himself glistened in the young man’s eyes and he gestured to the other side of the truck – “Si, si!” The relief I found on the other side of that truck was short lived. My battered and abused intestines immediately resurrected my fervor for pizza.

Finally, the Arathi Highlands quest was complete – DING –  and we arrived at the pizzeria. I was too intoxicated to coherently order anything and frankly, it was better for everyone that I just sat and waited on the pizza to come to me. It was at that very moment, as if I had spidey sense or perhaps, slut sonar that my gaze snapped left and was met with the gaze of a lonely redhead in a dress that would have made her daddy proud. “She looks like she needs a little Pettet in her life!” I said. “I dare you!” Knutt replied. As I was headed for the door I heard my wife say “it’s like he’s a dog in heat who’s only attracted to other dogs with red hair.” That little tid-bit had me giggling all the way out the door.

“Hey there!” I greeted the (allegedly) ugly redhead. Her response could have been more flattering. She simply scooted roughly eight inches in the other direction. “You don’t look nerdy enough to be  here for Blizzcon?” (pro, right?) Again, her response left a lot to be desired – she just rolled her eyes and looked away. “This is going well, I think.” I said. She was apparently nice enough to refrain from telling me to go fuck myself.

Without warning, five unhappy looking dudes surrounded me.  The antagonist of this little narrative, a fella we’re gonna call Ant, was standing directly in front of the virtuous gypsy and me, there was a guy on  both sides of him, another sat to the her right  and  the last of them sat  to my left. “Is this dude bothering you babe?” Ant inquired. They began to exchange some formalities that were clearly designed to justify this dude’s impending attempt to kick my ass. But, I’m on level 23 with a freshly activated pizza bonus. I began to  visualize the scenario in my groggy  mind – when he swings I’ll pick him up as if going for a tackle and slam him head first wrestling style, then immediately punch the bootlickers next to him in the sweet spot on the chin taking them out of the mix. I didn’t get much further than that when I hear Ant say; “where the fuck did you come from?” He probably felt Knutt’s beard hairs tickling the back of his neck. It was also at this time that I realized the dude to my left was the nay-saying companion who recommended this pizza joint.

I turned to the promiscuous ginger, “So, is this your boyfriend? He seems like a dick,” “He’s not my boyfriend,” she replied. “Okay, so is he  paying for tonight?” I speculated. The rabble erupted. “Ohhhh-hhhho-hooooo, bro… what the fuck?” and then Ant leans in to give his girl a kiss and (I swear to God!) says “Baby, he doesn’t know what you’re worth!” Counter eruption ensued from my entourage. “Bro, you just called your girl a prostitute!” At this point, the groups had divided. Words were being exchanged. Insults were being flung freely. Fingers being shoved in faces and blows were almost certainly imminent.

Unexpected things happen when you’re on level 23 and appear to be bat-shit crazy. One of the bootlickers managed to rationalize with Ant and convinced him to snatch up his seductress and retreat. With the numbers now in our favor at two versus three, Knutt turns around and says “Pettet, go finish your pizza dude. I’ll handle this.” I was willing to listen to such sound reason and this situation was clearly fizzling out.  Before I could even get to the door I heard the words “You said I was a bad dude!” I  turned around  as the shaken bootlicker said to Knutt; “No man, I didn’t say YOU were a bad dude!”

Just then, party-crashing companion-X, we’ll call him Saint Andrew, came hauling-ass around the corner. “Where are the cops?!” He gasped. Just as abruptly as Ninja Knutt had appeared behind Ant, the bootlickers casted vanish. Saint Andrew convinced everyone that it was probably best if we leave as well. So we headed back on foot speculating about how close we came to getting stabbed and laughing about how moronic we get. Soon after arriving at our hotel I came to the petrifying realization that we had no pizza in-tow – a harrowing finale to an otherwise delightful evening.

Moral of the story: Always get a to-go box!

The Why and When, as ill-concevied as it were

What could have driven my compatriot, Wompdonkey, and I to this, a World of Warcraft blog? Well, I will tell you. I will tell you with the fervor of Lorewalker Cho emblazoned with chartreuse leggings comforting the nether regions of history.


Our rum fueled rampage against the denizens of the WoW community and downtown Anaheim during Blizzcon 2014 ended with a decision.  It, as if ordained, was decided that we had a duty to share our WoW misadventures with…sigh…the World.


Standing in the lobby of the Hilton, just moments after Womp instigated a bit of a confrontation between Mike Preach and Bajheera, we had a conversation, that when taken into consideration with the jet lag and general imbibery, looked something like this:

Womp – “Why couldn’t we do this?”

Knutt – “Fight in the lobby of the Hilton?”

Womp – “No, no, we certainly would not do that. Come on. You know.”

Knutt – “What, be a WoW celebrity?”

Womp – “Fuck yeah!”

Knutt– “What would we do? Publically claim the dumb shit we do when drunk?”

Womp – “Would people actually want to see something like that?”

Knutt – “It makes for awesome stories. Our friends seem to enjoy it. Well, most of our friends.”

Womp – “We could record our drunken raids, RGB’s, and mediocre arenas.”

Knutt – “Mediocre?”

Womp – “Yeah! We should do this!”

Knutt – “What are our lists of accomplishments so far this weekend?”

Womp – “We really pissed off the World of Podcasts discussion panel folks?”

Knutt – “They asked for that. They had the intention to get us liquored up from the beginning. They said it numerous times and even promised us that they would not run out of alcohol, like a gauntlet to the face.”

Womp – “And we rose to the occasion. Besides, our intentions were honest. We offered dozens of times to help them.”

Knutt – “Rikkz said they were going to call the cops on us?”

Womp – “Really? I thought they loved us…”

Knutt – “I accidentally almost knocked Mike Morhaime to the floor.”

Womp – “Who tha fuck – Seriously?”

Knutt – “Yeah, didn’t see him till the last moment, and was too drunk for fast course corrections. I ended up crashing into another guy. It was a near miss, thankfully. I would hate to have that on a list of accomplishments…”

Womp – “We had no less than 2 drunken Blizzcon YouTube appearances in one night.

Knutt – “A 3rd on another night.”

Womp – “I made friends with the entire Hilton bar.”

Knutt – “Along with the ire of the same number of other people upstairs”

Womp’s Wife – “You spilled beer all over that guy’s Cards Against Humanity game.”

Womp – “I did not!!?”

Womp’s Wife – “He was pretty upset.”

Knutt – “You relieved yourself in the loading area of the Hitlon.”

Womp – “I asked the guy washing the truck if I could. He nodded his head with a smile!”

Knutt – “We had the best pizza in the world.”

Womp – “I may or may not have called that chick a prostitute. Accidently.”

Knutt – “Is that why that dude was so upset?”

Womp – “Yeah, but to be fair, he called her a prostitute too.”

Knutt – “His friend called me a bad dude.”

Womp’s Wife – “Yeah, you kept telling us that as 3 of us pulled you away.”

Womp – “So, that is what you meant when you asked me to go eat my pizza and said you would handle the situation?”

Knutt – “Maybe we should leave that last part out.”

Womp – “No, full disclosure. We can’t hide the asshole inside. People are going to see it either way.”

Knutt – “We are going to have a lot of apologizing to do, but I think you are right.”

Womp – “So, we are doing this?”

Knutt – “Unfortunately.”