He writes the Crimson Hammer, one of my favorite blogs. He's such a gentleman, so witty, and like Thunderspank and Matticus, make me want to get all "Jewish Mother" up in their grill and fix them up with nice girls (if they don't have one already).
And then this happened:
Now I am asking myself, if he was such a gentleman, why didn't he pack smelling salts, too? It took five gnomes and a drunk Dwarf to pick me up off the floor in the Golden Lantern! The Dwarf didn't care, in fact, he copped a feel on my bum on the way up, but the gnomes were nonplussed.
So, I immediately wrote him back, even though I realized he probably already deleted the character on the sagging but comfortable Whisperwind server:
I bought the gnomes a round of cheap beer, hugged them tight to my chestguard, (the Dwarf stood by, looking hopeful, but I just shook my head "No"), and brought the adorable cub out of its wrappings:
I named him Arvashtini. Why? It's cute. Got a problem with that? This is us taking a break, watching Big Keech walk down the path. Big Keech supplies the orbs that make the panther mounts, which will stay wrapped until I figure out that AH game. I heard it's tricky. Buy low, sell high, or something like that. In any case, all my holiday cynicism, of which, admittedly, there has been an abundance of lately, melted away like snowflakes in Tanaris.
You are truly a gentleman and a scholar.
Thank you good sir. With all my