Almost a solid month with no updates? My relationship with this place is starting to look a lot like the end of my marriage. Sure we still live together, but we never talk, I party without telling you where I'm going, and I've definitely made out with more than one dude.
So the last few weeks have been a series of momentous victories and crushing defeats, the latter of which can be largly attributed to my stunningly mediocre jiu-jitsu debut at last month's tournament. My training, although seemingly invincible compared to my usual lifestyle, was laughable compared to that of my opponents. My usually charactaristic overconfidence also played a major role in my tragic downfall. It basically boiled down to me, with less than five months of training at two days per week, against an army of young murder machines in peek physical condition with at least of year of training...at five days per week. I had no business fighting in a group with that kind of experience and I should have swallowed my pride and fought in the next class down. I survived as long as I did on pure meanness and I did pretty good with what I had. I out-lasted several submission attempts simply by not tapping out, and while that's totally more Rambo than I've ever been in my life, my mangled joints wish I would have just been a pussy and quit.
And to the guy that finally beat me, know that I'm far better at winning than I will ever be at losing. Whereas your defeat would have heralded an unwavering friendship born out of my respect for your loss, your victory has marked you as my enemy for life. I would have fought you again immediately after our match if the rules allowed it. You'll never know how close your transparent attempts at being my friend after our fight got you to getting punched in the face. If I don't see you in August, I will strike terror in your heart through your nightmares. In addition, it would be wise during future tournaments if your girlfriend refrained from running onto the mat and leaping into your arms like you just beat every Karate Kid villain that ever was. I wanted to punch her too.
Now before any of you try to pacify me through your cunning use of positivity and rainbow magic, let me just say two things:
1. I know exactly how hypocritical the last paragraph is. If you know me at all, you know that irony is a huge part of my comedic stylings, and I apply it to every aspect of my life, no matter how tragic.
2. Don't feed me that crap about being a winner just for stepping up to the challenge. I'm not your child bringing home an unidentifiable art project, and I'm not in the special olympics. I'm an adult and I know exactly how bad I fucked up.
In victorious news, my loss became completely forgetable by the same evening. I won't go into detail, but the key ingredients involved Batman Begins and one fine woman. If successfully mixing being a nerd with being a pimp doesn't lift your spirits, then maybe you'd be happier in a research facility where they specialize in people with absolutely no souls.
The next crushing defeat came when the aformentioned woman took the heavy-handed fear theme from Batman to heart. Hopefully she can one day overcome her own fears like young Bruce Wayne and transform herself into a supernatural phantom of justice, only sexier and with less rock-hard pecks.
In the meantime, happy 4th of July, fuckers.
So the last few weeks have been a series of momentous victories and crushing defeats, the latter of which can be largly attributed to my stunningly mediocre jiu-jitsu debut at last month's tournament. My training, although seemingly invincible compared to my usual lifestyle, was laughable compared to that of my opponents. My usually charactaristic overconfidence also played a major role in my tragic downfall. It basically boiled down to me, with less than five months of training at two days per week, against an army of young murder machines in peek physical condition with at least of year of training...at five days per week. I had no business fighting in a group with that kind of experience and I should have swallowed my pride and fought in the next class down. I survived as long as I did on pure meanness and I did pretty good with what I had. I out-lasted several submission attempts simply by not tapping out, and while that's totally more Rambo than I've ever been in my life, my mangled joints wish I would have just been a pussy and quit.
And to the guy that finally beat me, know that I'm far better at winning than I will ever be at losing. Whereas your defeat would have heralded an unwavering friendship born out of my respect for your loss, your victory has marked you as my enemy for life. I would have fought you again immediately after our match if the rules allowed it. You'll never know how close your transparent attempts at being my friend after our fight got you to getting punched in the face. If I don't see you in August, I will strike terror in your heart through your nightmares. In addition, it would be wise during future tournaments if your girlfriend refrained from running onto the mat and leaping into your arms like you just beat every Karate Kid villain that ever was. I wanted to punch her too.
Now before any of you try to pacify me through your cunning use of positivity and rainbow magic, let me just say two things:
1. I know exactly how hypocritical the last paragraph is. If you know me at all, you know that irony is a huge part of my comedic stylings, and I apply it to every aspect of my life, no matter how tragic.
2. Don't feed me that crap about being a winner just for stepping up to the challenge. I'm not your child bringing home an unidentifiable art project, and I'm not in the special olympics. I'm an adult and I know exactly how bad I fucked up.
In victorious news, my loss became completely forgetable by the same evening. I won't go into detail, but the key ingredients involved Batman Begins and one fine woman. If successfully mixing being a nerd with being a pimp doesn't lift your spirits, then maybe you'd be happier in a research facility where they specialize in people with absolutely no souls.
The next crushing defeat came when the aformentioned woman took the heavy-handed fear theme from Batman to heart. Hopefully she can one day overcome her own fears like young Bruce Wayne and transform herself into a supernatural phantom of justice, only sexier and with less rock-hard pecks.
In the meantime, happy 4th of July, fuckers.
VIEW 25 of 34 COMMENTS
verandi:
now dedicated to crushing america with industrial might
doineanta:
He may have BUT...he was telling me that you were proud of him all frikin night. It made him VERY happy. We have to all go out once we aren't so broke...or you can come over for some vodka and a threesome...your choice. 