RVonD Vs. Z-Day: An Action Plan

Things have been brought to my attention lately.

I have recently moved to Charlestown, MA. and live beneath my good friend Fantastic Dan. Along with being one of my best friends, Fantastic Dan also rules because he is OBSESSED with things like old-style tattoos and the end of the world. So, in between getting inked up, he is constantly devising ways to survive the end of the world, which to him, will occur on 12/12/12.

So, in the back of my mind, I've been thinking about what I would do should that happen. I mean, if the world explodes, I'm just gonna say "welp...shit" and die like the rest of yous. But, should something else happen, I need to be prepared. And yes, I'm talking about zombies here.

So I'd run through scenarios in my head, and to be honest, I think I have it down. My wife, Lady Von D has been made aware of the plan and she is on board. I thought I was ready, but now there is more urgency than before.

Today, C-zanne and her harem of gal pals made me aware of this new thing that is sweeping the nation: brain-eating amoebas that are taking over fresh water supplies in the South. The first thing that popped into my head: "This is how it starts. Z-Day is coming." How can you learn about brain eating organisms without thinking zombies? It's all too silver screen to ignore. Here is the article if you're interested:

http://www.wtsp.com/news/article/206352/250/Brain-eating-amoeba-rare-but-deadly-How-to-stay-safe

It's time to get ready homies. So let the D tell you how to get ready...


EQUIPMENT:

First and foremost, you're gonna have to get geared up. Now, if you're thinking where to get as many guns as you can, you're already up the undead creek. Trust me, you're wasting your time for the most part.

Fistly, if you watch enough movies, you automatically think everybody hits what they are aiming at all the time. I will tell you first hand that this is not the case. It is my guess that 90% of you could not hit the center of a paper target twenty yards in front of you. Bear in mind, this is taking your time, going through all the breathing techniques, proper trigger squeeze, correct sighting, etc. Now, let's make that target move quickly, and instill in you a huge sense of danger. Also mind you, if you are an inch right left up or down, you're going to miss completely at that distance. I'm not shitting you. More than that, this is also taking into consideration that you know how to load, sight, clean, and maintain firearms, which takes some sort of training. Basically if you have a handgun and think you're gonna run shit, you're not. Plain and simple.

However, true believer, there is a solution...and very recently a mass-produced solution.

Firstly, if you insist on having some sort of ranged weapon, go shotgun. You don't have to be insanely accurate, it's easy to load, and you just kinda hip shoot...the old spray and pray with the scattergun. Another reason I am weary of gunfire though should be pretty obvious: Noise. The last thing you want when dealing with ravenous undead are more ravenous undead. But if you're gonna use something to make a statement, make sure it looks like this:



(note the pistol grip for better handling and side ammo mount)

So what do you get first? How about two of these things?



Who said Bear Grylls was good for nothing? yes, for 30 bucks at Dick's Sporting Goods you can get one of those bad larrys and start hacking off limbs. Quick, quiet, and painful. If you're not convinced, here is this thing in action:



Oh yeah, and they don't mention in this video, but it comes with survival stuff with it, which could help you out in a pinch. I'm all over that.

WHERE TO GO:

Obviously, I'm staying out of major cities or other densely populated areas; that's a no-brainer. I mean, if it's not then you deserve to be eaten. But where do you go? Who do you go with? What do you bring with you?

Well, I don't know what the hell you're doing, but I'm taking my wife, and that's it. If you're traveling with more than 3 other people you're fucked. There's inevitably going to be somebody who slows you down and gets your throat ripped out, that's just numbers in my book. I haven't decided whether to take my dog and cat. More mouths to feed for little payoff aside from companionship. But where to go?

Unlike all of you, I already have this worked out. My boy Booski literally has a fortress in Hollis, NH that you can't see from the street. It's chalk full of weapons, tools, cars, power, and is walking distance from sustainable food like corn fields and such.

Speaking of that, if you think you're going to go stock up on canned goods and water and all that nonsense, I would mention that despite thoughts to the contrary, all that shit does have a shelf-life, and in order to get any kind of sustainability, you're going to have to start growing your own food. I look forward to eating ground vegetables and corn the rest of my life. Healthier that way right? If I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die skinny right? So instead of going to walmart and supermarkets, I'm going to home depot and the library to get books on farming. Trust me, I'll last longer than you.

ONCE YOU'RE SETTLED IN:

If you've followed my plan and get yourself set up, what then? I think the natural tendency would be to move around and find other survivors. I'm not going to do that. I'll have my little group and we will procreate and procreate and procreate until I've raised my own army. By the time the food starts to get scarce, the kids will be old enough to learn how to take care of our little compound, more workers = more farmhands = more food. Simple math in my head. Oh yeah, and if you plan on showing up to my fortress, you better bring something to the table. Don't bring your sick and wounded buddy, 'cause I'm gonna sink a machete in the back of his head. We don't do useless in the camp.

The only thing I HAVEN'T settled on yet is a tribe name. I toyed with calling my people the Mandalorians or the Children of Mandalore. Yeah, a little nerdy to name your people after an obscure sect of the Star Wars mythology, but whatever. Pretty badass, but I'm not married to it or anything. And just so you all know, Boba Fett was a Mandalorian, so there.

So that's all I can think of for now, and just remember when you're huddled around a fire and some bard is singing songs of my exploits, just remember the shit's probably all true...except for the number of girls I made women out of. Multiply that by three to get a more accurate number. I can already tell they're going to get that wrong.

Anything else you wanna know, send comments and questions my way. I'll leave you with an artist rendition of my exploits as a zombie killer. More wine, ladies?

Wow, I'm finding some doozies today, boy.

The only thing this video is missing is some cats crushed under piles of VHS video tapes. Seriously, what toilet did this C.H.U.D. crawl out of?

Seriously, this will never get old for me...

This may be in the running for the worst movie ever, but this was pure movie gold. Seriously, gets me every single goddamn time.

GAHHHHHHH! KILL IT WITH FIRE!!

God knows I'm not the most PC person in the world, and the Baroness works with spinal injury and brain injury victims all the time, but that doesn't stop me from being more than a little disturbed by this flow, no matter how dope it is:

Membership: TERMINATED. Stick it up your ass, Netflix!

Seriously, how big of a jackass do you have to be to get me to cancel one of the best things I had going for me in my life?

I woke up to the news a few days ago that Netflix has decided to go forward with price changes in their service. Now, I might hear you say, "Well, that's just the cost of doing business, why can't you just pay the separate charges for streaming and blu-ray discs?"

Well, I'll tell you why.

See to me, what Netflix had going for them was that it was incredibly easy to use, the people you corresponded with were always nice (either through email and telephone), and for the most part, shit worked flawlessly. Then this happened:

"We knew there would be some people who would be upset," said company spokesman Steve Swasey. "To most people, it's a latte or two."

Seriously buddy, go fuck yourself. I wanna know how many people in this country aside from women and yuppie fucks like you actually drink lattes. Not to mention the fact that who is drinking a goddamn six dollar latte? I'm cool with my $2.50 Dunks, thanks.

To make matters worse:

The Hollywood Reporter asked Hastings (CEO, mind you) whether he was "concerned that American Netflix subscribers will look north and ask for the same discount Canadians get at $7.99?"

Hastings' reply (with a dig at Americans): "How much has it been your experience that Americans follow what happens in the world? It's something we'll monitor, but Americans are somewhat self-absorbed."

That did it for me, and hopefully for all of you as well. I can't justify giving my money to somebody who would go to Canada and basically call me a self-absorbed American asshole. And you know what? So what if I am, but I'm not going to let some snotty latte sucking asshole call me that in a press conference.

Oh, and by the way, Netflix as a company is worth 10.2 billion dollars. It's clear to me that they need more of my money. So from all of me to all of you, Netflix: GFY.


Love and kisses,

RVD

Can I Get an Encore?

So there I was, gchatting my afternoon away when a dear friend of mine asked me out of the blue why Los Hermanos Fantasticos (RVonD and the Fridge) had not been blogging anymore. Sure, we were way ahead of our time. We were so good, in fact, that shit just got too boring for us. There I was posting awesome videos and commenting on them, then Daniel Tosh went and fucked me over with his stupid show.

INTERLUDE: True story, I saw him live last week and he readily admitted that what he does for a living was the result of pure luck, and that it requires no talent to stand in front of a green screen and read what other people wrote (Looking right at YOU as well, Joel McHale).

ANYWAY,

Shit has gone down in the past year or so. Like, some serious shit. First and foremost you should know, both The Fridge and I now have females we LEGALLY have to answer to (read: Married). I'm back mocking children for a living, and Fridge has even more responsibility at his job with no raise in pay. I also have a mustache.

Moreover, In my talks with C-zanne I asked her what could a married, 30-year-old have to say that is in any way as funny as a miserable 25-year-old single asshole living in the middle of nowhere. After some soul searching, it occurred to me that shit is always going to be whack, people are always going to piss me off, the internet is a vast cavern much like the universe, and webcams are now more readily available to the lowest common denominator.

I am going to make every effort to see that this blog lives fat and happy. I probably need to do this now more than you need to read it, but screw it. I got nothing to do for the next week or so, God only knows what I'm going to be posting on here, but it is my hope that you dig it hard. Just because I'm now middle-aged now, that shouldn't mean that I need to go soft.


Let's Rage,

RVonD

PHASE 2: ENGAGE!

Hello true believers,

I figured the five week update was well overdue, so here we go.

Over the past few days I've been killing myself with this diet. To take it a step further, there have been days over the course of this experience where I literally wanted to kill myself. Take last night for example:

It is common practice for any high school sport team on the road to stop for dinner at the most convenient fast food place. Last night, I sat on a bus, feeling sick because for whatever reason, I can't deal with the smell of diesel fuel, and ate a dry salad with dry tuna while my entire team (coaches included) filtered back onto the bus with bags of Wendy's, Subway, and whatever else I couldn't eat. Most of the time I just consider food to be fuel. When you convince yourself that food is meant to sustain life and not taste good, you can pretty much convince yourself to eat anything when operating in a diet vacuum.

It's only when the good stuff enters your atmosphere that you start to realize what pain you are going through. Still, even with the temptation and madness, I still find myself at the end of five weeks sitting at 217 pounds. For those of you keeping track at home, that's down 22 lbs. in five weeks. Not a bad start.

And so begins Phase 2: Becoming Superhuman

The craziest thing I've dealt with in this entire process is I have yet to do an ounce of any exercise. I think part of the reason I failed in the past was because I didn't yield any real quantitative success right off the bat when I worked out as well as dieted. And I think what always hampered any amount of success I've ever had in the weight room is that I didn't know what the hell I was doing. Working glamour muscles (ie: chest, arms, shoulders, etc) never got me much but a bit of bulk on top of a hill made out of butter and shame. And when I did have some guidance under the tutelage of John Duncan, the best I did for him was kill myself at the gym then go home and eat like shit. So I have myself to blame for that one.

yet, the time has come to put the rest of this plan into action and hopefully be under 200 lbs for the first time in ten years before June 1st. Hopefully with the core exercise and continued diet, the rest of this mess will come right off. Even if it's hard than I expect, at least I've shed "the gobbler" under my chin. Now I just need hockey season to end so I can get on a regular gym schedule.

Oh yeah, and I am going to crush some awful food this Saturday for my long weekend. I've been watching "Epic Meal Time" on YouTube all week in preparation. Let's roll.

Egg whits and protein shakes,

R Von D