Bathroom Mishap #3
I was at JC Penny's shopping a while back when I decided to run into the restroom to do what I do.
While I'm doing my business, this other guy comes in to use the stall next to me to do his business. Just as he startes to go, his cell phone rings and would you believe that he answers it? Here's the side of the conversation that I was able to hear.
"Hey Jeff"
"What's up?"
"You'll never guess what I'm holding in my hand right now"
"seriously, guess"
"Nope"
"That's not it either"
"I'll give you a hint, it's bigger and longer than that"
"It's not THAT long. Well, almost"
(then I flush my toilet)
"That's it, you guessed it. Did the flush give it away?"
"Yeah, all right, I'll talk to you later"
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Bathroom Adventures, part 2
Bathroom Mishap #2
I'm was sitting in my cubicle on a day that seemed like any other day, doing my normal day to day activities. (Mainly reading blogs and clicking Alt-Tab whenever my boss walks by.) I had drank rather copious amounts of coffee and hot cocoa that morning, and was feeling the inevitable effects of beverage consumption. So I made the trek to the bathroom to take care of it.
It's worth noting that the bathroom in this building designed so that you have to walk by the sinks in order to get to the toilets. As I walk in and passed the sinks, an elderly gentleman that I've seen around the building before finishes his business and starts walking towards the sinks. We ackknowledge each other with a nod and go about our respective business.
So I finish peeing and walk over to the sinks where he is still washing his hands. That's when it happened. Just as I square up to the counter, he makes eye contact with me in the mirror and, with one deft movement, he yanks his pants down to his knees. I was dumbfounded. My brain did a quick search through my memories to see if I had anything to train me for this situation, but came back blank. The guy proceeds to just stand there and hold eye contact with me through the mirror.
I did manage to yell out "What the hell, dude?!?" before bolting from the bathroom. It wasn't until days latter that witty remarks started popping into my brain. Every time I pass this guy in the halls now, he just stares at me, and I still have no real response. I just give him my best "what is wrong with you look" and the spend the rest of the day trying to get the image of his old man, pale, flabby thighs out of my mind.
I'm was sitting in my cubicle on a day that seemed like any other day, doing my normal day to day activities. (Mainly reading blogs and clicking Alt-Tab whenever my boss walks by.) I had drank rather copious amounts of coffee and hot cocoa that morning, and was feeling the inevitable effects of beverage consumption. So I made the trek to the bathroom to take care of it.
It's worth noting that the bathroom in this building designed so that you have to walk by the sinks in order to get to the toilets. As I walk in and passed the sinks, an elderly gentleman that I've seen around the building before finishes his business and starts walking towards the sinks. We ackknowledge each other with a nod and go about our respective business.
So I finish peeing and walk over to the sinks where he is still washing his hands. That's when it happened. Just as I square up to the counter, he makes eye contact with me in the mirror and, with one deft movement, he yanks his pants down to his knees. I was dumbfounded. My brain did a quick search through my memories to see if I had anything to train me for this situation, but came back blank. The guy proceeds to just stand there and hold eye contact with me through the mirror.
I did manage to yell out "What the hell, dude?!?" before bolting from the bathroom. It wasn't until days latter that witty remarks started popping into my brain. Every time I pass this guy in the halls now, he just stares at me, and I still have no real response. I just give him my best "what is wrong with you look" and the spend the rest of the day trying to get the image of his old man, pale, flabby thighs out of my mind.
Bathroom Adventures, part 1
The more I get into blogging, the more I find myself keeping an eye out for anything in life that's worth writing about. Sometimes it's the little things, like the wedding ring blog, that inspire me. Other times, inspiration comes in the form of an 18 year old wrestler trying to beat the crap out of me.
Unfortunately, this past week, my inspiration came to me in the bathroom where I had mishaps, not one, but two times.
Bathroom Mishap #1
I have the world's smallest bladder. Traveling with me is a huge inconvenience. However, because God has a sense of humor, He also saw fit to bless me with a high metabolism and a nearly unquenchable thirst. It's a vicious cycle. I drink constantly, but the stuff goes through me at record speed ending up at my bladder which has a permanent No Vacancy sign up.
Well, lately, I've developed a habit. I grab a coke as I'm leaving work and drink it on the ride home. I have a fairly long commute, 30 miles or so, which means it takes me about an hour and fifteen minutes to drive home. This, as far as I can tell, is EXACTLY how long it takes for a coca-cola to work it's way through my digestive system and start pummeling my bladder to death. (I feel the urge by 30 minutes, but I'm crossing my legs by the one hour mark.)
So on Thursday, I grabbed my coke and left work. Instead of going home, I had to pick up my oldest son from Tae Kwon Do that day. I left at 5:00 though, and his class ended at 6:30, so I should have had plenty of time.
Only, as I tried to leave the office park, something was obviously wrong. The cars were backed up for a half mile. I'd seen this before, and I knew that if I sat in this line, I was going to be late picking up my son, so I made a u-turn and headed for the back entrance.
No luck, this one is worse than the front entrance. Crap! Well, nothing to do but sit and wait.
So I waited...and waited...and waited. It took me 37 minutes to get out of the complex and onto 141 where the cause for the traffic became apparent. The powers that be decided that rush-hour was the perfect time to close a lane for resurfacing. (For non-Atliens, 141 is the main road through Atlanta's largest business district. It's legendary for it's traffic.)
Tension Mounts
Great, I'm now officially going to be late picking the kid up, and I have to pee a little bit. Oh well, I'll just have to hold it and pee at the do-jang. I don't want to be late. Unfortunately, traffic didn't really get much better for the rest of the ride home.
By the time I was getting close to home, I was in dire straits. It's amazing what happens to your thought process when you have to pee really really badly. I was sitting there behind a line of cars, not moving, and wondering if I could make use of the coke can I had emptied an hour before. It truly seemed like a viable option.
Unfortunately, a couple of minutes from the school, I hit the point of no return. I could no longer care less that I was late for picking up my son. If I didn't go right then, I was definitely going to wet myself.
The Promised Land
That's when I looked up and saw a Kroger.
I pulled into the parking space, jumped out of the car, and literally sprinted to the back of the store, where, to my horror, the bathroom was closed for cleaning. Two Mexican guys were in there with a big floor cleaning machine. Soap bubbles were two inches high off the ground. The guy working the machine had his back to me, and couldn't see me, the other guy stopped me at the door.
He only spoke Spanish, but from his gestures, it was pretty clear that I was NOT welcome to use the bathroom at this time. At the same time, I knew there was no way I was going to make it out of the store dry, let alone to my car and off to another bathroom.
So I knocked on the door of the girl's room. "Is anybody in here?" "Yes" came a voice. Crap!
So I looked at the dude at the door, and a terrible realization came over me. I'm 6'4" and this guy is maybe 5'3". Screw it! I pushed him out of the way, locked myself into the stall, and had what would turn out to be one of two great pisses that day. It didn't feel like it was ever going to stop, and to be honest, it felt so great that I didn't want it to. Even writing about it now sends chills up my spine.
The Chase Scene
I opened the door of the stall a much happier man, only to come face to face with the little guy I had pushed out of the way and his coworker. They were obviously not happy. REALLY unhappy.
I muttered an apology and edged past them out of the bathroom to a cacophony of yelling in Spanish. I couldn't understand much of it, but I got the gist. I tried to be nice and wipe my feet on a mop just outside the bathroom door, but that only made my shoes dirtier causing my retreat to be marked with nasty brown footprints.
What followed was a brisk walk speed chase through the greeting card aisle with me muttering apologies and them yelling loudly and gesturing to the floor. Of course, since it was 6:30 in the afternoon, the store was full of people picking up stuff on their way home. All activity ceased as I made my way past the registers and through the exit, my antagonizers in tow.
Fortunately, they didn't follow me all the way to my car, because I was beginning to wonder what my obituary would have said about the reason for my murder.
UPDATE:
I forgot to mention the real humdinger. When I got home, I told Shnoogs about what had happened, and she happily pointed out that the store had another set of bathrooms at the front.
Doh!
Unfortunately, this past week, my inspiration came to me in the bathroom where I had mishaps, not one, but two times.
Bathroom Mishap #1
I have the world's smallest bladder. Traveling with me is a huge inconvenience. However, because God has a sense of humor, He also saw fit to bless me with a high metabolism and a nearly unquenchable thirst. It's a vicious cycle. I drink constantly, but the stuff goes through me at record speed ending up at my bladder which has a permanent No Vacancy sign up.
Well, lately, I've developed a habit. I grab a coke as I'm leaving work and drink it on the ride home. I have a fairly long commute, 30 miles or so, which means it takes me about an hour and fifteen minutes to drive home. This, as far as I can tell, is EXACTLY how long it takes for a coca-cola to work it's way through my digestive system and start pummeling my bladder to death. (I feel the urge by 30 minutes, but I'm crossing my legs by the one hour mark.)
So on Thursday, I grabbed my coke and left work. Instead of going home, I had to pick up my oldest son from Tae Kwon Do that day. I left at 5:00 though, and his class ended at 6:30, so I should have had plenty of time.
Only, as I tried to leave the office park, something was obviously wrong. The cars were backed up for a half mile. I'd seen this before, and I knew that if I sat in this line, I was going to be late picking up my son, so I made a u-turn and headed for the back entrance.
No luck, this one is worse than the front entrance. Crap! Well, nothing to do but sit and wait.
So I waited...and waited...and waited. It took me 37 minutes to get out of the complex and onto 141 where the cause for the traffic became apparent. The powers that be decided that rush-hour was the perfect time to close a lane for resurfacing. (For non-Atliens, 141 is the main road through Atlanta's largest business district. It's legendary for it's traffic.)
Tension Mounts
Great, I'm now officially going to be late picking the kid up, and I have to pee a little bit. Oh well, I'll just have to hold it and pee at the do-jang. I don't want to be late. Unfortunately, traffic didn't really get much better for the rest of the ride home.
By the time I was getting close to home, I was in dire straits. It's amazing what happens to your thought process when you have to pee really really badly. I was sitting there behind a line of cars, not moving, and wondering if I could make use of the coke can I had emptied an hour before. It truly seemed like a viable option.
Unfortunately, a couple of minutes from the school, I hit the point of no return. I could no longer care less that I was late for picking up my son. If I didn't go right then, I was definitely going to wet myself.
The Promised Land
That's when I looked up and saw a Kroger.
I pulled into the parking space, jumped out of the car, and literally sprinted to the back of the store, where, to my horror, the bathroom was closed for cleaning. Two Mexican guys were in there with a big floor cleaning machine. Soap bubbles were two inches high off the ground. The guy working the machine had his back to me, and couldn't see me, the other guy stopped me at the door.
He only spoke Spanish, but from his gestures, it was pretty clear that I was NOT welcome to use the bathroom at this time. At the same time, I knew there was no way I was going to make it out of the store dry, let alone to my car and off to another bathroom.
So I knocked on the door of the girl's room. "Is anybody in here?" "Yes" came a voice. Crap!
So I looked at the dude at the door, and a terrible realization came over me. I'm 6'4" and this guy is maybe 5'3". Screw it! I pushed him out of the way, locked myself into the stall, and had what would turn out to be one of two great pisses that day. It didn't feel like it was ever going to stop, and to be honest, it felt so great that I didn't want it to. Even writing about it now sends chills up my spine.
The Chase Scene
I opened the door of the stall a much happier man, only to come face to face with the little guy I had pushed out of the way and his coworker. They were obviously not happy. REALLY unhappy.
I muttered an apology and edged past them out of the bathroom to a cacophony of yelling in Spanish. I couldn't understand much of it, but I got the gist. I tried to be nice and wipe my feet on a mop just outside the bathroom door, but that only made my shoes dirtier causing my retreat to be marked with nasty brown footprints.
What followed was a brisk walk speed chase through the greeting card aisle with me muttering apologies and them yelling loudly and gesturing to the floor. Of course, since it was 6:30 in the afternoon, the store was full of people picking up stuff on their way home. All activity ceased as I made my way past the registers and through the exit, my antagonizers in tow.
Fortunately, they didn't follow me all the way to my car, because I was beginning to wonder what my obituary would have said about the reason for my murder.
UPDATE:
I forgot to mention the real humdinger. When I got home, I told Shnoogs about what had happened, and she happily pointed out that the store had another set of bathrooms at the front.
Doh!
Thursday, June 15, 2006
I Guess I'm Not So Old After All
The Setup
As I drove to the school, my heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my scalp. Am I crazy? I haven't had a real full contact fight in five years now. I decided to put some Van Morrison on the radio to calm me down. Unlike most people, I fight better when I'm relaxed.
I get to the school later than I meant to, so I rush through the introductions. I meet the trainers and a coach, although I've already forgotten their names. I tell my competitor good luck, and find a spot on the floor to start stretching and warming up. I've already starting analyzing my opponent. He's 8 inches shorter than me, a significantly more muscular. He also looks scared. As I'm stretching, I start thinking about how I got myself into this situation.
The History
Three weeks ago, my chief instructor, Mr. Piccolo asked me if I was interested in a full contact match. We'd go up to six rounds. A friend of his at another school was training an 18 year old kid with a lot of potential. They wanted to set up a fight with somebody with some ring experience for training purposes and, for whatever reason, my name came up.
I've only done light contact sparring for the last five years, and the idea of a real fight was exciting.
***
So here I am, jumping rope and shadow sparring, trying to get my body warmed up. In about 30 minutes, a teenager is going to try to knock me out. Oddly, I don't feel nervous, just eager to get started.
***
My instructor seems oddly confident. He's holding pads for me now, but he doesn't seem interested in a pep talk. So I ask him what my plan should be.
I'm told that he was an all state wrestler in high school, so he's going to be dangerous on the ground. He doesn't have any Jiu Jitsu training though. Most of his ground fighting has centered around getting pins (as opposed to locks) so use that to my advantage, and be aggressive. I'm also told that my striking is likely to be more effective than his, so try to keep him on his feet as much as possible.
Gotcha!
The Action
It's time to get started now, so we step into the ring. We warmed up in separate rooms, so this is the first chance I've really had to size him up. I notice that he has trouble holding eye contact. Good, if I can keep him intimated, then that gives me a significant advantage.
Round 1
The first round starts. We're off to a standard beginning. We're both throwing some jabs and fakes in an effort to gauge each other. Two things jump out at me right away. He's keeping his guard low, more like a wrestler than a boxer, and his left arm is quicker than his right.
An idea occurs to me. I throw a two punch combination to his stomach. He blocks them, but that's what I was hoping for. Let's get those hands just a little bit lower. I fake a front kick to his stomach. He goes to block, but I abort the kick. I can see that he's uncomfortable. He's dying to take me down to the mat. I need to soften him up a bit before he does that if I'm going to win this.
Then I see my opportunity when he throws a combination towards my head. I avoid his punches, but I notice that he's leaning forward when he finishes the combination. He's putting way too much weight on that front leg.
I need him to do that again. I move around a bit, toying with him. I land a round kick to his ribs, and manage to follow it up a second later with a hard side kick into his upper arm. His whole arm has to be throbbing after that one.
He's getting nervous. He knows that he isn't going to win this fight standing up. Then he does it again. He comes at me with another flurry of punches, and as he starts leaning forward, I let him have it with the hardest round kick I can throw. It felt like his thigh was going to absorb my shin for a moment. His right arm (the same one I kicked earlier) drops at the moment of impact. I see the opening, and I unload on him. I manage to land 3 consecutive punches to his face, and as he stumbles throw a side kick into his stomach in an attempt to knock the wind out of him.
He hits the floor, and just lays there for a very long four seconds, before getting back up to his feet. The round is over though. I feel pretty good. He did manage to land a couple of punches, but nothing that I'm going to feel tomorrow.
Break
As I'm sitting, my instructor gives me a warning. "Expect him to try to take you to the mat quickly this round." He's a man of few words, Mr. Piccolo.
Round Two
Round two starts. I notice that he's favoring his other leg now. I also notice that his hands are back up where they should have been in the first place. Oh well, at least I took advantage while I could.
I decide to be aggressive now. I'm feeling confident. I don't want to wrestle though, and I have a reach advantage, so I decide to try to keep him at bay as much as possible.
So I concentrate on throwing kicks. I'm setting them up with hand techniques, but the kicks are where my real advantage lies here. I have to be careful though, I don't want to tire myself out. So I throw another couple of side kicks towards his ribs. His defense is a lot tighter now, and I'm having trouble finding an opening that will allow me to explode on him.
Oops
That's when I make a mistake. I try to fake a side kick to get him to back up, but I telegraphed it. He rushes me when I'm off balance, and lands a punch to my head and another to my body. I manage to block a third punch to the body, but I'm forced to clinch with him to stop the onslaught. Not good.
I try to shift and make a little room to get an uppercut or a knee in, but I've got to be careful. I'd rather not end up on the ground yet. I lower my center of gravity and get one leg behind his. He's not going to take me down easily at least. I decide to drive my knee into his hurt thigh a couple of times. That seemed to give me a little room so I do it a few more times. His grip loosens slightly so I bring my knee up into his ribs as hard as I can given the limited operating space. He retaliates by punching me in the ribs a few times.
Phew!
It's enough to make him let go, however, and I manage to push him off of me, with another kick to the thigh for his troubles.
I have got to be more careful. Still, I didn't end up on my back, so I'm feeling pretty good about how that exchange went.
We square off again. I need to end this quickly. I throw a back fist, that he dodges, but I continue my rotation and land another kick to his thigh. He retreats, so I follow. I start attacking his head. He blocks the first few, but he's back on his heals, so he's unable to counter effectively. I keep throwing punches, this is it, the fight could end right here.
I alternate throwing punches to his head and body, and I can see that he's losing it. I'm trying to both daze him, and knock the wind out of him. Finally, just as he looks like he's getting his balance, I grab him.
I feel a lot better about taking this fight to the ground now. I grab his leg, and he lands on his back before he even knows what is happening to him. I manage to get side mount on him quickly and grab on to his wrist. He tries to roll, and get his leg between mine, but it's too late. I grab my own wrist with my other hand, and twist my leg over his head.
I need to move quickly before he can catch his breath. I execute the Kimura and twist his arm back. He taps. It's over.
The Courtesy
I get up and offer him a hand to help him up. "You ok, man? That was a tough fight." I say. He says he's fine and acknowledges that it was a good fight, but he's pissed. I can't blame him really. It really wasn't that close of a fight.
The Conclusion
The obligatory honorifics are done now, and I'm sitting with Mr. Piccolo drinking some gatorade. He's telling me that I did a good job, and I'm telling him that it's all because of his training. Both of our butts are full of smoke.
I feel great though. There's something primal about a good fight, especially when you win. I wonder how sore I'll be tomorrow.
The End
As I drove to the school, my heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my scalp. Am I crazy? I haven't had a real full contact fight in five years now. I decided to put some Van Morrison on the radio to calm me down. Unlike most people, I fight better when I'm relaxed.
I get to the school later than I meant to, so I rush through the introductions. I meet the trainers and a coach, although I've already forgotten their names. I tell my competitor good luck, and find a spot on the floor to start stretching and warming up. I've already starting analyzing my opponent. He's 8 inches shorter than me, a significantly more muscular. He also looks scared. As I'm stretching, I start thinking about how I got myself into this situation.
The History
Three weeks ago, my chief instructor, Mr. Piccolo asked me if I was interested in a full contact match. We'd go up to six rounds. A friend of his at another school was training an 18 year old kid with a lot of potential. They wanted to set up a fight with somebody with some ring experience for training purposes and, for whatever reason, my name came up.
I've only done light contact sparring for the last five years, and the idea of a real fight was exciting.
***
So here I am, jumping rope and shadow sparring, trying to get my body warmed up. In about 30 minutes, a teenager is going to try to knock me out. Oddly, I don't feel nervous, just eager to get started.
***
My instructor seems oddly confident. He's holding pads for me now, but he doesn't seem interested in a pep talk. So I ask him what my plan should be.
I'm told that he was an all state wrestler in high school, so he's going to be dangerous on the ground. He doesn't have any Jiu Jitsu training though. Most of his ground fighting has centered around getting pins (as opposed to locks) so use that to my advantage, and be aggressive. I'm also told that my striking is likely to be more effective than his, so try to keep him on his feet as much as possible.
Gotcha!
The Action
It's time to get started now, so we step into the ring. We warmed up in separate rooms, so this is the first chance I've really had to size him up. I notice that he has trouble holding eye contact. Good, if I can keep him intimated, then that gives me a significant advantage.
Round 1
The first round starts. We're off to a standard beginning. We're both throwing some jabs and fakes in an effort to gauge each other. Two things jump out at me right away. He's keeping his guard low, more like a wrestler than a boxer, and his left arm is quicker than his right.
An idea occurs to me. I throw a two punch combination to his stomach. He blocks them, but that's what I was hoping for. Let's get those hands just a little bit lower. I fake a front kick to his stomach. He goes to block, but I abort the kick. I can see that he's uncomfortable. He's dying to take me down to the mat. I need to soften him up a bit before he does that if I'm going to win this.
Then I see my opportunity when he throws a combination towards my head. I avoid his punches, but I notice that he's leaning forward when he finishes the combination. He's putting way too much weight on that front leg.
I need him to do that again. I move around a bit, toying with him. I land a round kick to his ribs, and manage to follow it up a second later with a hard side kick into his upper arm. His whole arm has to be throbbing after that one.
He's getting nervous. He knows that he isn't going to win this fight standing up. Then he does it again. He comes at me with another flurry of punches, and as he starts leaning forward, I let him have it with the hardest round kick I can throw. It felt like his thigh was going to absorb my shin for a moment. His right arm (the same one I kicked earlier) drops at the moment of impact. I see the opening, and I unload on him. I manage to land 3 consecutive punches to his face, and as he stumbles throw a side kick into his stomach in an attempt to knock the wind out of him.
He hits the floor, and just lays there for a very long four seconds, before getting back up to his feet. The round is over though. I feel pretty good. He did manage to land a couple of punches, but nothing that I'm going to feel tomorrow.
Break
As I'm sitting, my instructor gives me a warning. "Expect him to try to take you to the mat quickly this round." He's a man of few words, Mr. Piccolo.
Round Two
Round two starts. I notice that he's favoring his other leg now. I also notice that his hands are back up where they should have been in the first place. Oh well, at least I took advantage while I could.
I decide to be aggressive now. I'm feeling confident. I don't want to wrestle though, and I have a reach advantage, so I decide to try to keep him at bay as much as possible.
So I concentrate on throwing kicks. I'm setting them up with hand techniques, but the kicks are where my real advantage lies here. I have to be careful though, I don't want to tire myself out. So I throw another couple of side kicks towards his ribs. His defense is a lot tighter now, and I'm having trouble finding an opening that will allow me to explode on him.
Oops
That's when I make a mistake. I try to fake a side kick to get him to back up, but I telegraphed it. He rushes me when I'm off balance, and lands a punch to my head and another to my body. I manage to block a third punch to the body, but I'm forced to clinch with him to stop the onslaught. Not good.
I try to shift and make a little room to get an uppercut or a knee in, but I've got to be careful. I'd rather not end up on the ground yet. I lower my center of gravity and get one leg behind his. He's not going to take me down easily at least. I decide to drive my knee into his hurt thigh a couple of times. That seemed to give me a little room so I do it a few more times. His grip loosens slightly so I bring my knee up into his ribs as hard as I can given the limited operating space. He retaliates by punching me in the ribs a few times.
Phew!
It's enough to make him let go, however, and I manage to push him off of me, with another kick to the thigh for his troubles.
I have got to be more careful. Still, I didn't end up on my back, so I'm feeling pretty good about how that exchange went.
We square off again. I need to end this quickly. I throw a back fist, that he dodges, but I continue my rotation and land another kick to his thigh. He retreats, so I follow. I start attacking his head. He blocks the first few, but he's back on his heals, so he's unable to counter effectively. I keep throwing punches, this is it, the fight could end right here.
I alternate throwing punches to his head and body, and I can see that he's losing it. I'm trying to both daze him, and knock the wind out of him. Finally, just as he looks like he's getting his balance, I grab him.
I feel a lot better about taking this fight to the ground now. I grab his leg, and he lands on his back before he even knows what is happening to him. I manage to get side mount on him quickly and grab on to his wrist. He tries to roll, and get his leg between mine, but it's too late. I grab my own wrist with my other hand, and twist my leg over his head.
I need to move quickly before he can catch his breath. I execute the Kimura and twist his arm back. He taps. It's over.
The Courtesy
I get up and offer him a hand to help him up. "You ok, man? That was a tough fight." I say. He says he's fine and acknowledges that it was a good fight, but he's pissed. I can't blame him really. It really wasn't that close of a fight.
The Conclusion
The obligatory honorifics are done now, and I'm sitting with Mr. Piccolo drinking some gatorade. He's telling me that I did a good job, and I'm telling him that it's all because of his training. Both of our butts are full of smoke.
I feel great though. There's something primal about a good fight, especially when you win. I wonder how sore I'll be tomorrow.
The End
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Randoms Thoughts and Advice About Life
Today, I just feel like jotting down some random thoughts.
I have a friend that I met online. We were chatting once about maybe meeting in person over lunch. Then she said, "Wait. You're not a rapist are you?" If you stop and think about this question, it seems to be based on the assumption that, even if I'm a rapist, lying about it is something that would just be too evil for me to do.
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This stuff is just plain awesome.
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The secret to a long lasting relationship, is to never be the perfect guy. Women like fixer-uppers. The real reason that women chase bad boys and ignore the nice guys is that the nice guys don't require work. Guys, if you want to keep your woman interested, find the balance betwen "needs work" and "hopeless".
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The secret to a long lasting relationship is to always make your man feel like a winner. Men's egos are insanely sensitive and they need regular stroking (the egos I mean, pervs). Even if you're Britney and he's K-Fed, make him think that you couldn't be successful without him. It won't be that hard to do, men are gullible when it comes to this stuff.
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Want to find out if that cute guy/girl at the end of the bar is interested? Here's the trick. First, adopt *almost* the exact same pose as them. Then make eye contact and smile. Finally, change your pose. If they change their pose to match yours, you're in. (This trick also works in the boardroom.)
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It's common knowledge that once a guy gets into a woman's "friend zone" he will never be romantically involved with that woman. It's also common knowledge that a woman knows if she's interested in a guy a few seconds after meeting him. Neither of these "facts" are actually true.
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If you were a nerd in school, and you've blossomed since then, go to your high school reunions. Trust me on this. Nothing makes you feel better than shooting down men/women who wouldn't have given you the time of day back in school.
I have a friend that I met online. We were chatting once about maybe meeting in person over lunch. Then she said, "Wait. You're not a rapist are you?" If you stop and think about this question, it seems to be based on the assumption that, even if I'm a rapist, lying about it is something that would just be too evil for me to do.
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This stuff is just plain awesome.
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The secret to a long lasting relationship, is to never be the perfect guy. Women like fixer-uppers. The real reason that women chase bad boys and ignore the nice guys is that the nice guys don't require work. Guys, if you want to keep your woman interested, find the balance betwen "needs work" and "hopeless".
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The secret to a long lasting relationship is to always make your man feel like a winner. Men's egos are insanely sensitive and they need regular stroking (the egos I mean, pervs). Even if you're Britney and he's K-Fed, make him think that you couldn't be successful without him. It won't be that hard to do, men are gullible when it comes to this stuff.
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Want to find out if that cute guy/girl at the end of the bar is interested? Here's the trick. First, adopt *almost* the exact same pose as them. Then make eye contact and smile. Finally, change your pose. If they change their pose to match yours, you're in. (This trick also works in the boardroom.)
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It's common knowledge that once a guy gets into a woman's "friend zone" he will never be romantically involved with that woman. It's also common knowledge that a woman knows if she's interested in a guy a few seconds after meeting him. Neither of these "facts" are actually true.
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If you were a nerd in school, and you've blossomed since then, go to your high school reunions. Trust me on this. Nothing makes you feel better than shooting down men/women who wouldn't have given you the time of day back in school.
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