You thought that His Imperial Rottieness was dead, didn’t you? Well, not quite, but it’s not for any lack of trying by the Evil Minions and Henchmen™, that’s for sure.

As we’re sure that you all know by now, the absence of posts over the weekend was due to our being away in Austin for the weekend, trying to come up with new and wondrous ways of inducing alcohol poisoning as quickly as possible while maintaining a wonderfully unhealthy ingestion of ridiculous amounts of good, greasy, wholesome Southern Cooking. “Not much of a task”, you say? Well, YOU try to hold an ice cold Shiner Bock in one hand and a juicy, dripping, thick slice of tender brisket in the other, then make your mind up as to which one you should go for first. Pure agony, we tell you. (We found out that you can drink beer through one corner of your mouth while stuffing brisket in your face through the other, by the way).

Not a bad way of celebrating 5,000,000 uniques, if you ask me, especially considering the company. Thanks so much for all of the congrats and best wishes in the “5,000,000″ thread, by the way. It was a great thing to come back to, except you all got it wrong: The ones who should be thanked are YOU. You see, if it weren’t for you, we’d have never reached this milestone. Well, short of hitting “refresh” 5,000,000 times, of course, but there are limits…

Anyway, a short recap of the weekend’s events before anybody else can start putting up unsubstantiated lies and exaggerations about it:

As soon as we were done kicking Bush and Arlen Sphincter around on the website, we loaded up the Imperial Transport with ourself, the Empress, Heirs and lots of funny items that go “boom” (for Saturday’s shooting, obviously) and headed South.

The weather wasn’t cooperating, it was raining all the way more or less, which wouldn’t have bothered His Expert Driverness all that much if it wasn’t for the fact that people around here drive like complete morons at the first sight of a slight drizzle. “Oh noes! There’s WATER on the road! Better slow down to 30 mph, right now!”

We’d say something along the lines of “we’d hate to see how they’d react to REAL slipperiness on the roads” except that we’ve already seen it, and it’s not a pretty sight. Three flakes of snow on the roads and you’re well advised to stay the heck at home unless you happen to be driving an M1 Abrams. Not because of its superior traction but because of its superior results in crash tests, no matter WHAT Volvo says. Hit a hippie-mobile with an M1 and you won’t even feel the bump. But we digress…

Needless to say, it all meant that we were running late which wouldn’t have been so bad if it wasn’t for us having a dinner appointment at the excellent Salt Lick BBQ place in… Well, in the middle of farking nowhere, but that’s beside the point. It’s well worth the drive, just make sure to bring lots of ammo to fight off the Indians and wild buffalo. And earplugs. We swear, if we have to hear “are we there yet?” one more time…

Anyway, after having trekked all over the Continent, crossing three time zones, two mountain ranges, sixteen rivers and a partridge in a pear tree, we finally made it there and ran into the rest of the Imperial contingent who, strangely enough, seemed to have just arrived as well in spite of having had a head start of several hours. Oh well, Lord Spatula was driving, so he probably took the “scenic route.” Past Correlia, Bothawui and Dantooine.

Snarky comments out of the way, it was then time for much merriment, back-slapping and hugs as all of us Evil Right Wing Deathbeasts rejoiced in seeing each other again (it’s always been too long, no matter what), not to mention the fact that the Imperial Torturer and Brutal Enforcer, B.C., was there as well, which was the first time that we’d had the honor and distinct pleasure of meeting him in person, and a very pleasant ruffian he is indeed. Not to mention that he’d brought about 20 gallons of beer of various extractions. Delftsman was there too looking better than ever, which was a huge relief, knowing what he’s gone through recently. Then there was, of course, the Lady Beth, Imperial Serving Wench and Organizing Wizard, the, er, “Navigator” Lord Spatula, LCs Deathknyte, Krondax and quite a few more.

But, and not to suggest that we weren’t thrilled to meet up with all of our old friends, not in the least bit, meeting B.C. at long bloody last after years of wanting to just blew our Imperial Mind. As we were informed, we have the Lord Spatula to thank for that. Threats were involved, we’re sure, and thanks for that, Spats. Thankfully, the Torturer hadn’t brought the Helen Thomas/Janet Reno Nekkid Mudwrestling DVDs O’Doom. Those things are so Evil that their mere presence in the same county can induce violent nausea, and we had eating and drinking to do.

After having rounded up the Imperial Heirs who’d been busy “helping” direct traffic (we’re sure they’ll clear up the wrecks and body parts eventually), we went inside where we met up with Lady Denity Twodragons, her husband Eric and their incredibly charming heir, Master Zane, to whom the Imperial Heirs immediately took a strong liking, to say the very least. This was also where we met up with the Jawja Bloggers contingent, which presented us with the opportunity to shake hands with even MORE people we’d always wanted to meet, chief among which were, of course, the notorious Acidman whom we remember going as far back as we’ve been blogging. Good to see you, man, and that goes for the rest of y’all as well. We’d mention all of you if we could, but our memory isn’t all that great (we can’t imagine why) and, besides, no matter how hard we tried, we’d be bound to forget someone.

The food? Glad you asked. Best damn BBQ outside of what you can cook up at home. Worth every penny and it wasn’t even expensive. Just great damn cooking. We were stuffed to the gills when we left and we were seriously contemplating stuffing some more into our pockets for later, but we weren’t sure we’d make it past the wild animals on the prairies we had to cross to get back to the hotel.

Back at base camp, everybody crashed in order to be ready for Saturday.

The next morning we packed up the arsenal and headed out to the range. Nothing like the smell of cordite to get the circulation going, not to mention the opportunity to shoot everybody else’s guns. After all, you can always shoot your own. We did shoot our own a bit, but it was much more fun letting somebody else have fun with Lady Kimber. Besides, there were so many other guns to shoot. At some point, we were conned into trying out a 12 gauge loaded with slugs. Our shoulder may never forgive us, but damn what a rush! And yes, we were making sure to pull that damn thing tight, it’s not the first time we’ve fired a long gun with a lot of punch. We don’t even want to think about the damage had we not been paying attention. Again: Damn, what a rush. Not to mention how the goblin on the other end would’ve felt… Briefly…

The Kimber, meanwhile, was a great hit, getting a lot of exercise. Particularly from one of the Lady Beth’s heirs (we forget which one since they’re twins and therefore somewhat hard to tell apart) who just couldn’t get enough of it. Good. That makes us very, very happy. Watching him shoot it made us even happier still. A 12-year-old fresh back from his gun safety class with no experience shooting handguns whatsoever firing a full-size .45 like it was going out of style and hitting the snot out of the target every. Damn. Time. We kid you not. The youngster is a natural. Not to mention that we like the way he thinks. After having fired the obligatory rounds at center mass just to show that he could, he took a liking to head shots. He didn’t miss the head of the silhouette. Not once. And it was a small silhouette.

As we said to the Lady Beth: This young man needs, needs to get a 1911.

So, between him and his brother, we had the distinct pleasure of seeing two fine young men joining the ranks of shooters in the Empire, both of them making a damn good showing of it.

If that doesn’t call for a Happy Dance, we don’t know what does. Congrats, Milady Beth, you taught them well, and they are obviously good students.

Once we’d all fired enough shots to arrive at our Happy Place, wrists tired and with that sweet taste of cordite smoke at the back of the palate, it was off for the afternoon excursion. The Lady Beth took us to a great little park (well, not all that little, actually) where the lil’ ones could run rampant while the rest of us stuffed our faces and drank beer. As is always the case with Rottie gatherings, we’d brought much more food than we could possibly eat, but, as is also always the case, we did our damndest, gorging ourselves on fried chicken, potato salad, BBQ and an enormous load of the juiciest, tastiest sausages that we’ve had in a long time, donated and sent all the way to Texas by LS Mope who wanted to contribute to the festivities even though he couldn’t come himself. Thanks, Mope, you’re too generous and the next time you just have to come in person.

Meanwhile, the Heirs were running around harrassing people as only they can do until they ran into a local gentleman who promptly let them commandeer his fishing rod and helped them catch a fish too. To say they were thrilled would be an understatement, and we owe the gentleman for his kindness, not to mention his forbearance when they decided to dump his bait in the river.

As to ourselves, apart from having more fun that any one person should be allowed to have, we managed to secure a signed copy of “Tiger”’s book, “Alura Allen, Alien at Large”, the which we can’t wait to read. Not to mention that it is a First Edition, no longer in print. The Second Edition will be out later this year.

Then it was back to the hotel and a night of drunken craziness, pizza, tall tales and solving every single problem known to mankind about a dozen times over. Josh and Trey, Lady Beth’s charming sons, volunteered for baby-sitting duties, letting the Heirs and young Master Zane go crazy with their XBox while spreading pop corn all over the room.

The rest of us were sitting outside trying to see if we could eradicate all of the beer in Texas. We’re sure we must have come close since our memories of the night are a little, say, “hazy.” We know that we had fun, however, and we’re almost certain that the Death Star will be operational any day now.

The next morning we were, much to our surprise, somewhat indisposed and unexpectedly desirous of staying in our bed all day long. The Minions would have none of it, however, and after much harrassment we got ourself whipped into shape, dressed up and dragged ourself to breakfast, which consisted mainly of sipping our coffee and wondering how on Earth anybody else managed to eat anything. Getting old sucks.

Then it was time to realize that the weekend had passed much too quickly and pack up for home. Damn, but we hated that part. Just when you’re having a good time you find out that two days have passed and the fun is over for now. No, we never were any good at goodbyes, we friggin’ HATE the things, particularly when the people we’re saying goodbye to are people that we could easily spend another week or two in the excellent company of.

Of course, there’s always next time. May it come soon, because there’s no way that it can come too soon.

To those of you we’d met before: It was great seeing you again. To those of you who couldn’t come: We truly wish you’d been there. Be there the next time. Please.

And B.C.: Great finally meeting you, man. Now I have to pack up the family and drive to Florida one day to repay the favor. If only Sir George could’ve been there as well, we’d have all been together. And Spats and Deathknyte: Thanks for making it happen. And last, but not least: Thanks for all of the arranging and organizing, Beth, not to mention the honor of getting to meet your two fine young men.

‘Till next time, gang.

We can’t wait.

UPDATE: LC & IB Denita who, among her numerous other talents, has a super memory, has another roundup complete with links to some of the splendid people that I forgot to mention, being the senile old bastard that I am.

This entry was posted on Monday, May 1st, 2006 at 1:47 pm and is filed under Life in the Empire. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.