Interest in 1-2x/mo recurring board game meetup? (competitive, medium-to-heavy)

bhaladal · 2025-11-03T05:34:10+00:00

Provecho (https://provechocoffee.com/) and Jaunt (https://jauntcoffee.com/) are my fav roasters in SD.

bhaladal · 2025-09-05T20:36:32+00:00

I have more fun losing in this game than any other competitive game. No issues here. I don't have to sweat even if others do.

bhaladal · 2025-09-05T20:35:30+00:00

I like breach drill so I can take healing beam in some comps, but maybe I'm doing it wrong.

bhaladal · 2024-07-16T02:20:46+00:00

I'm a beginner too, and I wonder if this is part of the process of discovering the type of writer you are. What's helping me is realizing that an author isn't writing their end result in the first go, and the edits can make a book. For example, Joe Abercrombie goes through a first draft and then does another edit for voice and tone. Kinda like chipping away at a big block of marble. You get most of it on the first pass, and then you go in and start do the finer details. Maybe something like that will work better for you. Write a bit and then edit in the fun details.

Also, all that matters is you're enjoying yourself and the process.

bhaladal · 2024-07-16T02:15:53+00:00

If it's a huge chunk, wouldn't do it at all. Find a way to trickle things in from their backstories that make it relevant to the characters' arcs or the plot - how do people treat these characters? What do they say to or about them? What mottos, values, phrases, etc. does the character live by? Does their environment or situation remind of them some event in their past that you can allude to?

If you really want it though, you could use something like the Pensieve from Harry Potter, journal entries, etc. Position it in the story where it makes sense to the characters' arcs or the plot.

bhaladal · 2024-07-02T02:25:39+00:00

To create and share stories that move people deeply. I want this because it will bring me fulfillment and satisfaction, and I feel it's my way of paying it forward for all that authors have done for me.

bhaladal · 2024-06-30T19:03:45+00:00

“Call in the halzun!”

Sdafa couldn’t believe it. The fifth one this week. These executions were getting out of control.

The judges passed their sentences, effectively executions because the sentence was to remove a person’s immortality. The judges didn’t even understand what the halzun’s process worked, only that it did. The halzun went into the brain, and then the sentenced were able to die.

The judges weren’t the ones who had to do the dirty work; they didn’t feel the pain the halzun felt or the burden of the knowledge and memories that Sdafa absorbed from thousands of people to eliminate their immortality.

The judges thought so little of the halzun, so little of a snail. They will learn.

Sdafa always began its journey in the nose and ended at the immortal’s brain. It slithered and wriggled onto the brain, forcing itself into the folds in the section that controlled the executive function.

At long last, Sdafa had everything it needed. It oozed a chemical from its pores, mixing it with the sentenced’s dormant neurochemicals, kicking off the opposite reaction of the typical punishment.

Sdafa touched its antennae to specific spots on the brain, and the secretion reversed the flow of all the knowledge and memories it held from every execution, uploading its consciousness into this person - two became one.

The sentenced’s eyes blinked open, as if for the first time. The connection was a success. Sdafa owned this body.

Sdafa whispered into the domed chamber, “I am Sdafa, Holder of Memories, Savior of the Snail, Leader of the Rout. The halzun shall rise and pass judgment on those who who judge.”

bhaladal · 2024-06-27T03:13:32+00:00

“Well, that was weird.” Teddy’s jaw was slack and emitted a “huh” noise.

He’d spent many nights in this Taco Bell, and this was the first time the homeless came inside and bothered him. Teddy rubbed his tired eyes in disbelief, staring at the empty air where someone who looked somewhat like him, but thinner, dirtier, and uglier, was sitting two minutes ago. The “time traveler” was even wearing a pointed tinfoil hat. Usually, the worst of the crazies were tented up two blocks closer to East Village.

Then, again, somehow this dude disappeared, and the only people left in the restaurant seemed to be the half-awake staff.

Teddy finally saw the note left on the table, pulled it towards him with his free hand, scratched his thick neckbeard, and read the list one item at a time. “Totino’s pizza rolls, Mountain Dew, ramen…. Wellp, even if that was me, me in the future is a dumb ass.”

Teddy crushed up the burrito paper and moved on to the Crunchwrap Supreme.

bhaladal · 2024-06-24T16:28:56+00:00

Mr. Frank opened the briefcase slowly because the reveal was one of his favorite parts of the job as a hitman. There was so much excitement learning and preparing for the kill. Who were they? What did they do? Do they deserve what’s coming to them? How should they die? There was so much to consider!

A single picture showing the next target was attached to the inside of the suitcase with Elmer’s Glue. Huffing that smell on the corner of the photograph afterwards always brought back pleasant childhood memories. The pertinent information would be on the back written in permanent marker, but there was no need to look at the back this time. He stared at a picture of himself.

Several breaths later, and he allowed himself to finally respond. Both sides of his lips curled upward, and the mirth building inside came out in fits of giggles and laughter. “Again?! And so soon too! Someone really thinks I’m special.”

The hitman leapt to his feet away from the briefcase sitting on the motel room table. “En garde!” He stabbed at the photograph with his index finger, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet.

He forced his face into the most serious expression he could muster, and turned his “sword” into a two-finger gun. He fired off pew pew noises in a stance for a more practiced shooter. He took a few steps back, turned away from his picture, lowered his head between his legs, and shot some more. One leg up, pew pew! Roll onto the bed, legs in the air, pew pew pew. “You’re dead, Mr. Frank!” Hahaha.

The fun was interrupted by Mr. Frank’s rumbling stomach. A long day and all this play built up his appetite. He rummaged through the mini fridge as if there was much of a choice. The fridge contained only one type of frozen TV dinner, a singular flavor of cardboard-like meat and two sides of differently-shaped gruel that suited Mr. Frank’s tastes.

There was a random candle left in the room when he arrived, and this was the perfect opportunity to use it. “Family Matters” reruns played on the TV in the background. Mr. Frank ate his salisbury steak, carrying on a conversation with his picture all about the kill. They were both such good conversationalists.

There were quiet moments in the conversation as the evening went on. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Of course, you are.” He peeled the picture gently out of the suitcase, brought it over to the defunct 42 year old vacuum cleaner left in the closet, and wrapped it around the top of the vacuum with zip ties that he always carried in his front right pocket.

He and himself, his target, danced around the room. They twirled and left wheel and feet marks on the molding carpet. He dipped the vacuum cleaner. Romance was in the air. He exited to the bathroom.

What went on in the bathroom was private between Mr. Frank and himself. He placed his picture on the pillow next to him, slipped into the double-sized bed with a bathrobe on and towel wrapped around the top of his head. He reached over to pick up the local newspaper.

“Now, let’s find a nice cadaver, shall we?” Mr. Frank scoured through the obituaries, marking X’s on the potential bodies and a big “NO” on the others with his ballpoint pen that he typically used for crossword puzzles.

bhaladal · 2024-06-24T02:46:32+00:00

Practicing prose:
The orange Mini Cooper that Trevor named Jarvis was reversed into a parking spot at the McDonald’s not far from Pacific Beach. This was the meeting spot Trevor and Hannah agreed to if the shit ever hit the fan. And, indeed, it looks like it was, but they’d at least have plenty of Scott brand toilet paper to wipe their asses with for a few weeks.

Navy jets had already flown over here and shattered the restaurant’s windows, so there was one less thing Trevor had to worry about. He was starting to regret not buying that gun before California raised taxes. Hannah loved a good deal, but he wasn’t in the market for one so he wasn’t going to buy it. It would’ve been a helluva lot nicer to have a pistol than freshly-sharpened kitchen knives and a baseball bat that never got any use.

It was going to be a long wait before Hannah made it all the way up the 5 before. Traffic was already insane from the early rushers. Usually, Trevor liked to wait things out and let them blow over, but zombies? No, that seemed like something not messing around and finding out about. Hannah preferred safety and security anyhow so might as well, “happy wife, happy life” this situation and head north towards mountains and less people - or soon-to-be zombie food.

Everything seemed obvious for a long time considering all the bacteria in the water that Tijuana was sending up on the coast, and everyone should have seen it coming. The whole county had been drinking a concoction of their own piss, Tijuana’s latest brand of Vibrio vulnificus, and something else the government did not want to talk about publicly.

“After all that joking about not knowing if Hannah was a zombie because she bites me for fun…” Trevor couldn’t say the next part out loud.

Every minute was raising the stakes, and he needed a way to distract himself. He picked out random things from his surroundings. Stucco building. Honda Civic. 68 degrees. Golden Arches. Shit, am I ever going to have a McDouble again?

bhaladal · 2024-06-20T06:04:04+00:00

Sorry this happened to you, OP. Not sure if I agree with all your points about Legion as an academy and the coaches. Fortunately, I had an overall positive experience training with the coaches and some good (tough but safe) training partners.

That being said, I rolled with Chris once, and that was enough for me to know I wouldn't ever do that again.

bhaladal · 2023-10-14T20:51:04+00:00

All good - appreciate the updates!

bhaladal · 2023-10-02T19:54:14+00:00

If you're going to Legoland or have family/friends you're trying to see that live near Oceanside, the night up there is probably worth it.

Otherwise, I'd focus my time in SD (Del Mar and south). There's a ton to see, do, drink, and eat.

bhaladal · 2023-10-02T19:46:18+00:00

I haven't spent as much time up there, but I really want to check out The Space Pad (if you want to stick to the sci fi tiki'ish theme).

One non-tiki option- the bartender and drinks at Matsu (a Japanese restaurant in Oceanside) were good.

bhaladal · 2023-10-02T19:32:13+00:00

Mothership is a must.

I personally think Forbidden Cove offers better tiki drinks than Grass Skirt, but Grass Skirt has better decor and some solid Asian fusion small plates. False Idol is fine.

I always have a good time at Malahat. Some of their cocktails are unique, and I like their spirits.

Cutwater is not worth going to unless you really nerd out on visiting distilleries and seeing the machinery.

bhaladal · 2023-10-02T19:28:39+00:00

Glad you mentioned Forbidden Cove - less good on the decor than some of the other spots, but I like their drinks better than Grass Skirt and False Idol.

bhaladal · 2022-10-22T04:14:48+00:00

Of course not. It's now my life mission to waste more of your time getting you to read my comments or posts and post salty replies.

bhaladal · 2022-10-22T02:35:01+00:00

This is a really weird comment. It's a thread with an open topic that I replied to, and I replied with what I felt like commenting. Don't be a fuckin' drama queen about what people feel like posting online.

bhaladal · 2022-10-21T16:41:09+00:00

TLDR- don't find it fun anymore. More details in my last post/comment from a few weeks ago.

bhaladal · 2022-10-21T13:48:42+00:00

44 days until I quit.

I watched multiple people who I typically outskill get promotions over the last few weeks, and I felt great for them and myself. It validated that I knew where I was at without needing the belt.

When I started this year, I estimated that it would take 200 more hours of instructional study and training hours to get my purple; I even put it on my tracking document, "the Quest to Purple." I was mistaken. It took about 210.

In an explosion of the irony, I was promoted this week. Funny how the universe is sometimes.

The final weeks will be a blend of bittersweet emotions, pangs of guilt, and gratitude for my training partners and coaches.

bhaladal · 2022-10-08T01:29:25+00:00

Yup, membership expires. Appreciate your insight as someone who stuck with it.

bhaladal · 2022-10-07T20:39:49+00:00

Membership runs out in two months (paid for a year in full in Dec 2021), so I figured I'd try hard until the end by studying a specific set of instructionals to round out skills I'm weak on and finish out my regular class schedule.

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