If I had my way, my wedding would have been WAY different. Pretty sure it would have gone down as the greatest wedding of all time. Doubt me? Let me walk you through it...
If I had my way, it would have been on an abandoned airfield. The seats would have been facing a picturesque waterfront background. My groomsmen would show up riding all black motorcycles. They would park them off to the side. Moments later a plane would fly over, causing everyone seated to look up. There they would see me parachuting towards the ceremony. I land, get rid of the arachute and take my place next to the pastor and my groomsmen. The bridesmaids..who cares? All you need to know is that they show up. Now its time for the bride.
This is where it gets good. Off in the distance you hear what sounds like car engines and gunfire. Turning in your chair, you would have been witness to a '67 mustang being pursued by 3 black sedans. The mustang is swerving to avoid gunfire and rocket launches. Through Bond like gadgetry, the mustang leaves an oil slick, causing the sedans to flip and explode. Then the mustang power slides, and out of the car steps Wifey rocking the white leather catsuit. We stand at the altar and when the pastor says the part about speaking now or forever holding your peace, our villain stands up. He's sitting in the crowd! And he's not alone... he brought ninjas. So now the bridal party is fighting bad guys. After they are defeated, the pastor pronounces us husband and wife, wifey and I kiss, and then explosions.
Tell me that wouldn't be the best wedding ever! It wouldd have put that wedding where people were dancing to Chris Brown to shame. I almost had it too, but Wifey couldn't figure out what flower package worked best. But oh what could've been...
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Pretend Soldiers
Its raining and I'm in a bunker accompanied on either side by my comrades in arms, Leftie and Righty. My two companinions are wondering if the coast is clear, impatiently wanting to advance our position. The guy to my right pops up to look, only to be hurriedly chased back to cover by several shots aimed in his direction. All over the field you hear what sounds like firecrackers being exploded.
Leftie says, "I'm tired of waiting! I'm going for it!" And charges out from behind the bunker. Just as suddenly shots ring out. Righty and I exchange glances, each of us thinking the same thing... that Leftie is no more. Righty then makes a series of complex hand motions telling me that he's going right to draw their fire, and that I should wait a two count and peel left. Hopefully while they are following him I can move undetected. We give each other a knuckle bump for luck and the he goes. I wait my two seconds, and spin out to the left, gun trained looking for hostiles. Shots whizz past me, but I remain focused. I see two hostiles and with two quick taps on the trigger, both are eliminated. I am almost to my objective when I feel something hit my shoulder. And just after my head is knocked back as something hits me in the head.
I hear a whistle blow, and the referee screams, "Dead man walking, let him out!" I turn and slowly head back to my dead box, having just been destroyed by paintballs. I hear several of my teammates say, "aww man! HE'S out!"
This was me on Saturday. Pretending to play soldier with about 45 strangers. For it being my first time, I didn't know what to expect, but I had a blast. If you don't mind a little pain(getting hit with paintballs kinda hurts) I hightly recommend it. Although it helps to be short, or limber. (My two kryptonites.) its a great way for grown ups to play army men all over again.
Leftie says, "I'm tired of waiting! I'm going for it!" And charges out from behind the bunker. Just as suddenly shots ring out. Righty and I exchange glances, each of us thinking the same thing... that Leftie is no more. Righty then makes a series of complex hand motions telling me that he's going right to draw their fire, and that I should wait a two count and peel left. Hopefully while they are following him I can move undetected. We give each other a knuckle bump for luck and the he goes. I wait my two seconds, and spin out to the left, gun trained looking for hostiles. Shots whizz past me, but I remain focused. I see two hostiles and with two quick taps on the trigger, both are eliminated. I am almost to my objective when I feel something hit my shoulder. And just after my head is knocked back as something hits me in the head.
I hear a whistle blow, and the referee screams, "Dead man walking, let him out!" I turn and slowly head back to my dead box, having just been destroyed by paintballs. I hear several of my teammates say, "aww man! HE'S out!"
This was me on Saturday. Pretending to play soldier with about 45 strangers. For it being my first time, I didn't know what to expect, but I had a blast. If you don't mind a little pain(getting hit with paintballs kinda hurts) I hightly recommend it. Although it helps to be short, or limber. (My two kryptonites.) its a great way for grown ups to play army men all over again.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
How I Got Married... Part 1
Hi, remember me? I'm the guy who used to update this thing sporadically before I basically disappeared. I apologize for that, but in my defense I have been kinda busy. Let's see.. I got married. That was awesome, but not as awesome as the whole getting to the actual ceremony. Its a pretty epic story if I do say so myself. I'm gonna tell it so pay attention.
The week before The Wife and I were supposed to get hitched, I switched jobs. And they weere flying out to Orlando to meet the team I was working with. So that meant I iwas flying out too. Wifey was not pleased as we had already made travel arraingements but finally relented. So what was supposed to be a simple San Jose to Maui flight turned into a complex four plane chain. But due to general idiocracy that mutated into a 36 hour, 7 flight catastrophe. I'm going to try some thing here. I will list the three time zones that are crucial to this story... east coast time, pacific time, and hawaiian time. so 5pm est is 2pm pst and is also 11am ht.
Hopefully this makes sense.
Thursday-2pm EST/11am PST/8am HT: I arrive at the Orlando airport, check in, and find out my plane is delayed an hour. "No big deal" I thought, as my plane to vegas from SFO didn't leave until 10pm PST. So I hunkered down in a seat and take advantage of the free internet at the airport.
Thursday-5pm EST/2pm PST/11am HT: Still at the Orlando airport. Now nervous due to the fact that my plane was suppsed to leave 20 minutes ago. Was worried about missing my Vegas flight but found out the the weather in the bay area was bad and all flights were affected. I guess now would be a good time to tell you that I had a 1am flight from vegas to honolulu. And I didn't care what old lady I had to heisman I was making that flight.
Thursday-7pm EST/5pm PST/2pm HT: On a flight to LAX. Because the weather sucked so bad, I, with the help of my new boss, got a flight from LAX to vegas that would let me get that overnighter to vegas. So as the door closes I relax knowing I'm gonna make it.
Thursday-12am EST/10pm PST/7 HT: Landed in los angeles. Ran across the airport. Hurdled a guy who had bent over to tie his shoe. Heismaned an old lady. Did a spin move on a mom and her stroller. Get all the way up to the counter to hear, "Sorry sir, that flight's been overbooked. Since you didn't check in, you have no seat." What?! Apparently overbooking is quite common, and since I was on a plane with no internet access I couldn't check in. So guess what flight I missed? I told the lady my situation, pleaded with them, even asked if I could go fight the person for my seat.(they said no). They apologized, gave me the number to hawaiian airlines, and wished me both luck and congrats. Defeated, I walked from the counter and sat down. Now the next thing on the list was to call Wifey.
TO BE CONTINUED....
The week before The Wife and I were supposed to get hitched, I switched jobs. And they weere flying out to Orlando to meet the team I was working with. So that meant I iwas flying out too. Wifey was not pleased as we had already made travel arraingements but finally relented. So what was supposed to be a simple San Jose to Maui flight turned into a complex four plane chain. But due to general idiocracy that mutated into a 36 hour, 7 flight catastrophe. I'm going to try some thing here. I will list the three time zones that are crucial to this story... east coast time, pacific time, and hawaiian time. so 5pm est is 2pm pst and is also 11am ht.
Hopefully this makes sense.
Thursday-2pm EST/11am PST/8am HT: I arrive at the Orlando airport, check in, and find out my plane is delayed an hour. "No big deal" I thought, as my plane to vegas from SFO didn't leave until 10pm PST. So I hunkered down in a seat and take advantage of the free internet at the airport.
Thursday-5pm EST/2pm PST/11am HT: Still at the Orlando airport. Now nervous due to the fact that my plane was suppsed to leave 20 minutes ago. Was worried about missing my Vegas flight but found out the the weather in the bay area was bad and all flights were affected. I guess now would be a good time to tell you that I had a 1am flight from vegas to honolulu. And I didn't care what old lady I had to heisman I was making that flight.
Thursday-7pm EST/5pm PST/2pm HT: On a flight to LAX. Because the weather sucked so bad, I, with the help of my new boss, got a flight from LAX to vegas that would let me get that overnighter to vegas. So as the door closes I relax knowing I'm gonna make it.
Thursday-12am EST/10pm PST/7 HT: Landed in los angeles. Ran across the airport. Hurdled a guy who had bent over to tie his shoe. Heismaned an old lady. Did a spin move on a mom and her stroller. Get all the way up to the counter to hear, "Sorry sir, that flight's been overbooked. Since you didn't check in, you have no seat." What?! Apparently overbooking is quite common, and since I was on a plane with no internet access I couldn't check in. So guess what flight I missed? I told the lady my situation, pleaded with them, even asked if I could go fight the person for my seat.(they said no). They apologized, gave me the number to hawaiian airlines, and wished me both luck and congrats. Defeated, I walked from the counter and sat down. Now the next thing on the list was to call Wifey.
TO BE CONTINUED....
Monday, February 7, 2011
They Got The Wrong Guy!!!
I have mentioned before that I have an unusual family. We have odd rituals and games we play. I've mentioned our throat chop assassin game, where we go to great lengths to pretend to chop each other in the neck for amusement. But as fun as that is, nothing comes close to the fun we have at restaurants. We have a tendency to pull knives on each other. We play like spoons, where the last person to pick up pays. I've often remarked that it isn't a meal until someone gets a knife pulled on them. Spill a drink and you will get saluted. But by far, our favorite game is the birthday game. Where you randomly pick someone to have a birthday.
Showbiz, PK and I went to Chevys on Sunday to enjoy an afternoon out. PK was running late, so Biz and I got there early. While she and I were sitting there, my dad called asking where we were. So my sister and my dad had a conversation, and I sat there destroying the chips and salsa. I hear, "No dad we don't know anyone here anymore." and the she hung up. Then PK joined us and we ate our meal.
As we were finishing up, out of the corner of my eye I see a birthday sombrero come flying out of nowhere and land on PK's head. And as the servers sing happy birthday, Showbiz and I sit there bewildered, each of us going, "Did you set this up? Because I didn't..." after the singing concluded, the hostess says, "Your dad called, and told us it was your birthday!" Which would be all good, except my dad lives in hawaii.
Hilarity ensues as in between fits of laughter, Showbiz and I proceed to tell her that it isn't PK's birthday(that's in April). My dad, from Maui, called in a birthday airstrike to get me,(my birthday was last Thursday), and they got PK instead. To be fair, when my dad called, PK wasn't there and it was the hostess'fault, but that didn't make it any less funny. To make matters worse, the more we laughed the angrier PK became, and the angrier he became the funnier it got. It didn't help that Showbiz and I immediately went to the phones taking pictures and sending texts. My sister called my dad to explain the situation. He talked to all of us, we hung up. To top it all off, random strangers were stopping by the table to wish PK a happy birthday, or to say the whole event made their day.
I tell you this story to let you know you are not safe whenever you roll out with the Williams family. And don't think you can pre-emptively get us... that's only been tried once and it didn't go well for the other team. So eat with us at your own risk...
Showbiz, PK and I went to Chevys on Sunday to enjoy an afternoon out. PK was running late, so Biz and I got there early. While she and I were sitting there, my dad called asking where we were. So my sister and my dad had a conversation, and I sat there destroying the chips and salsa. I hear, "No dad we don't know anyone here anymore." and the she hung up. Then PK joined us and we ate our meal.
As we were finishing up, out of the corner of my eye I see a birthday sombrero come flying out of nowhere and land on PK's head. And as the servers sing happy birthday, Showbiz and I sit there bewildered, each of us going, "Did you set this up? Because I didn't..." after the singing concluded, the hostess says, "Your dad called, and told us it was your birthday!" Which would be all good, except my dad lives in hawaii.
Hilarity ensues as in between fits of laughter, Showbiz and I proceed to tell her that it isn't PK's birthday(that's in April). My dad, from Maui, called in a birthday airstrike to get me,(my birthday was last Thursday), and they got PK instead. To be fair, when my dad called, PK wasn't there and it was the hostess'fault, but that didn't make it any less funny. To make matters worse, the more we laughed the angrier PK became, and the angrier he became the funnier it got. It didn't help that Showbiz and I immediately went to the phones taking pictures and sending texts. My sister called my dad to explain the situation. He talked to all of us, we hung up. To top it all off, random strangers were stopping by the table to wish PK a happy birthday, or to say the whole event made their day.
I tell you this story to let you know you are not safe whenever you roll out with the Williams family. And don't think you can pre-emptively get us... that's only been tried once and it didn't go well for the other team. So eat with us at your own risk...
Thursday, February 3, 2011
100 + 31 + 2 = Bobby Appreciates You Day
Happy blog #100! Happy 2 year blogiversary! Happy Birthday to me! Oh man... all I can say is someone lost a LOT of money. (Told you I'd live this long mom!) I had something super awesome planned for this particular blog, but I gotta save it.
What is it about birthdays? That feeling that you are invinceable. That you are the most important person on earth, that all is right and you can't lose. Its a happy pill that gives you warm fuzzy feelings for 24 hours. For example, while on the train today I got a call from my mom and dad who threatened to sing happy birthday to me. I tried to counter with a bluff to put them on speaker phone. I failed to remember that as old people, they aren't worried about looking cool. And not only that they pointed out that my propsed action would actually do me more harm than them. We laughed and parted ways but the warm feeling has stayed.
I'm thankful for that, and the people who came out the woodwork to call, text or blow me up on facebook. But I am also thankful for the people who take time out of their day to read this blog. I wish you receive the feeling of a having a month of birthdays. Now if you will excuse me I gotta go do the birthday dance.
What is it about birthdays? That feeling that you are invinceable. That you are the most important person on earth, that all is right and you can't lose. Its a happy pill that gives you warm fuzzy feelings for 24 hours. For example, while on the train today I got a call from my mom and dad who threatened to sing happy birthday to me. I tried to counter with a bluff to put them on speaker phone. I failed to remember that as old people, they aren't worried about looking cool. And not only that they pointed out that my propsed action would actually do me more harm than them. We laughed and parted ways but the warm feeling has stayed.
I'm thankful for that, and the people who came out the woodwork to call, text or blow me up on facebook. But I am also thankful for the people who take time out of their day to read this blog. I wish you receive the feeling of a having a month of birthdays. Now if you will excuse me I gotta go do the birthday dance.
Monday, January 24, 2011
I Blame You, Zach Effron!
Its post #99! Holy smack, where did the time go? not only that, but next Thursday, which also happens to be my birthday will be the two year anniversary of this completely random collection of thoughts. More introspective thoughts later... on to the blog.
Does anyone know what happened to cartoons? Like where did they go? When I was a kid cartoons were all over the place. You could blindly point to any channel listed in the TV guide(where did that go also) at any time of the day and find cartoons. Now I look through the guide on my dvr and see nothing but stupid tween shows. Nickelodeon has been overrun by iCarly, and 75 other shows just like it. Its an epidemic that has gotten so bad, cartoon network doesn't show cartoons anymore. (Moment of silence please) as if I needed another reminder that I was old.
Stupid high school musical came along and messed everything up. Now I can't even enjoy cartoons. Or or grown up tv for that matter, because glee has come along and melted everyone's brains. Hey glee groupies... go watch cop rock. See what's in store for your hip new show. (Let's be careful out there, best cop rock song ever. I dare you to challenge me on this.)
Sounding bitter I know. But tv used to be awesome until you yuppies took over. So I've said my piece and now I'm leaving. But know when all these peeps end up pushing 40 or in rehab, Hollywood will have no choice but to turn tv back over to the nerds. And please believe my people are ready.
Does anyone know what happened to cartoons? Like where did they go? When I was a kid cartoons were all over the place. You could blindly point to any channel listed in the TV guide(where did that go also) at any time of the day and find cartoons. Now I look through the guide on my dvr and see nothing but stupid tween shows. Nickelodeon has been overrun by iCarly, and 75 other shows just like it. Its an epidemic that has gotten so bad, cartoon network doesn't show cartoons anymore. (Moment of silence please) as if I needed another reminder that I was old.
Stupid high school musical came along and messed everything up. Now I can't even enjoy cartoons. Or or grown up tv for that matter, because glee has come along and melted everyone's brains. Hey glee groupies... go watch cop rock. See what's in store for your hip new show. (Let's be careful out there, best cop rock song ever. I dare you to challenge me on this.)
Sounding bitter I know. But tv used to be awesome until you yuppies took over. So I've said my piece and now I'm leaving. But know when all these peeps end up pushing 40 or in rehab, Hollywood will have no choice but to turn tv back over to the nerds. And please believe my people are ready.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Dirk Dastardly Approves This Message
Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy and sportsmanship... know what they have in common? They don't exist. Each one, a mythical fairy tale designed to make kids feel good. I know I'm sounding like a crazy person, but bear with me. I have a plan. We just may have to take some ikea-like "shortcuts" to get there.
As many of you know I have coached/played basketball for many years. And one thing I've always hated is once the game is over, you gotta huddle up and say "good game whoever" and line up to go and shake the other teams hand and say "good game". Its cool if the game was actually a good one, but what if you get beat by 30? There is nothing worse than having to shake someones hand when you REALLY don't want to. And the winning team says good game, but what they all are thinking is, "Yo... you should have just forfeited and saved us all two hours."
And don't even get me started on adult life. I have seen very few instances where the guy who exhibits all those traits he learned playing little league actually get ahead. Usually its the guy who is willing to sell his moms kidneys that wins. I've seen now more than ever, you have to be willing to do what the other guy won't.
You're like, "Bobby that's so awful! What will you tell your children?" To cheat, but do it respectfully. It won't be full on cheating, just the exploitation of loopholes within the rules of the game. I will tell them that I only know of one guy who could Doright and win... and his name was Dudley. (Give it a few minutes.... and there you go.) I've taught other peoples kids to cheat, just as I have taught them to ambush and terrorize. So don't be surprised if in about ten years, a little Williams kid is hand checking in rec league, with me as proud as a peacock. You have been warned.
As many of you know I have coached/played basketball for many years. And one thing I've always hated is once the game is over, you gotta huddle up and say "good game whoever" and line up to go and shake the other teams hand and say "good game". Its cool if the game was actually a good one, but what if you get beat by 30? There is nothing worse than having to shake someones hand when you REALLY don't want to. And the winning team says good game, but what they all are thinking is, "Yo... you should have just forfeited and saved us all two hours."
And don't even get me started on adult life. I have seen very few instances where the guy who exhibits all those traits he learned playing little league actually get ahead. Usually its the guy who is willing to sell his moms kidneys that wins. I've seen now more than ever, you have to be willing to do what the other guy won't.
You're like, "Bobby that's so awful! What will you tell your children?" To cheat, but do it respectfully. It won't be full on cheating, just the exploitation of loopholes within the rules of the game. I will tell them that I only know of one guy who could Doright and win... and his name was Dudley. (Give it a few minutes.... and there you go.) I've taught other peoples kids to cheat, just as I have taught them to ambush and terrorize. So don't be surprised if in about ten years, a little Williams kid is hand checking in rec league, with me as proud as a peacock. You have been warned.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
You're Our Only Hope....
I was in the bathroom getting ready for work when I realized that I will never save the world. (Profound, I know.) But I say this not because I physically couldn't do it, but because I do not posses any of the skills that are required. Like there are way more qualified dudes to do the job.
Like even if you tried to hollywood it up, it would be the worst movie ever. Couldn't you see it? "This summer... Our only hope lies with a guy who really wants to be a pirate." And then there would be a bunch of clips of me running from ninjas, running from bullets, and running from explosions. And maybe one where I cry because I get punched in the nose... you know just to show my sensitive side for the ladies.(I smell Oscar.)
I know its a bad idea to say never, but its fairly safe to assume that if the world were ever in peril, the president is not sending a chopper to pick me up from work. No 5 star general is gonna hand me a thick file in the back of a limo, and then later salute me as I halo jump out of a plane into enemy territory. Nor will my ability to be kinda good at jeopardy ever come in handy when aliens come to obliterate our species.
Side tangent: has anyone ever noticed that aliens always destroy earth? Like I'm no expert, but I'd like to think they could just shoot rays that cause our brains to melt. Like you can travel across the galaxy, but you can't develop a brain scrambler? (Sorry.. I'll focus.)
So sorry guys... if you're looking for a world saver, I'm not your guy. But I do know jack bauer is free. You should call him.
Like even if you tried to hollywood it up, it would be the worst movie ever. Couldn't you see it? "This summer... Our only hope lies with a guy who really wants to be a pirate." And then there would be a bunch of clips of me running from ninjas, running from bullets, and running from explosions. And maybe one where I cry because I get punched in the nose... you know just to show my sensitive side for the ladies.(I smell Oscar.)
I know its a bad idea to say never, but its fairly safe to assume that if the world were ever in peril, the president is not sending a chopper to pick me up from work. No 5 star general is gonna hand me a thick file in the back of a limo, and then later salute me as I halo jump out of a plane into enemy territory. Nor will my ability to be kinda good at jeopardy ever come in handy when aliens come to obliterate our species.
Side tangent: has anyone ever noticed that aliens always destroy earth? Like I'm no expert, but I'd like to think they could just shoot rays that cause our brains to melt. Like you can travel across the galaxy, but you can't develop a brain scrambler? (Sorry.. I'll focus.)
So sorry guys... if you're looking for a world saver, I'm not your guy. But I do know jack bauer is free. You should call him.
Monday, January 3, 2011
December 21st, 2010.... (aka- Another Reason to Believe)
I sat there, illuminated for a few moments before everything went black again. The rain was hitting my roof and the radio was playing a song, but it all sounded like white noise; a buzzing sound that was a million miles away. I sat there taking stock, making sure that everything was in order. It all happened so fast I couldn't prevent it, but I can tell you this... I should have died.
With hands shaking due to adrenaline, I tried to open the driver's side door. But damage to the car prevented me from doing so. I unhooked my seat and climbed across to the passenger seat. The rain started to come down harder as I stood there in disbelief. It was only after exiting did I realize how fortunate I was. My car, which not five minutes earlier had lost traction, spun out across all 4 lanes of the freeway and then hit the embankment, lay perpendicular and extending into the right lane. It was a sight, with 3 exploded tires and a missing bumper. Standing up the road, I started to figure out who to call. But remembered I left my phone at home. (What can I say? When I do near death experiences, I go all out.)
I couldn't believe it. Not after it took 20 minutes for a good samaritan to help. Not after the highway patrol came and administered a field sobriety test, not even after calling Future Wife for a ride, a towtruck, and getting home at midnight. I still don't believe it.
What ifs immediately started coming and continue to this day. I just examine how if the tiniest of details had been different, such as other cars behind me, not wearing a seat belt, or being on an elevated overpass. Anything gets changed, and I might not be here now. It can only be described as a miracle. I should have died, but by the grace of God I didn't.
With hands shaking due to adrenaline, I tried to open the driver's side door. But damage to the car prevented me from doing so. I unhooked my seat and climbed across to the passenger seat. The rain started to come down harder as I stood there in disbelief. It was only after exiting did I realize how fortunate I was. My car, which not five minutes earlier had lost traction, spun out across all 4 lanes of the freeway and then hit the embankment, lay perpendicular and extending into the right lane. It was a sight, with 3 exploded tires and a missing bumper. Standing up the road, I started to figure out who to call. But remembered I left my phone at home. (What can I say? When I do near death experiences, I go all out.)
I couldn't believe it. Not after it took 20 minutes for a good samaritan to help. Not after the highway patrol came and administered a field sobriety test, not even after calling Future Wife for a ride, a towtruck, and getting home at midnight. I still don't believe it.
What ifs immediately started coming and continue to this day. I just examine how if the tiniest of details had been different, such as other cars behind me, not wearing a seat belt, or being on an elevated overpass. Anything gets changed, and I might not be here now. It can only be described as a miracle. I should have died, but by the grace of God I didn't.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Now Accepting Applicants*
So with the amount of times I've mentioned the League of Men, I'm surprised that no one has ever asked how to obtain membership. Likewise, with the mentioning of Man Cards, I'm equally as surprised no one has ever asked me how to obtain one. (Well not really, seeing as how 95% of the people who read this are women.) As sheer manliness has declined, we have gone the opposite direction of the california public school system. Instead of diluting things and making it easier to join, we have made it harder... That way the select few who have been chosen will be able to truly call themselves men. And since officially being maned the Unofficial Ambassador/Spokesperson, I feel I should bring the qualifications for both to the masses, in case anyone deeming themselves worthy feel froggy enough to leap.
1. You must have won at least one fight where the odds were stacked against you: Every man can beat up scouts, or prevail in an even fight. But it takes a true LoM man to dominate when he is vastly outnumbered.
2. You must know how to fix something: whether it be computers, plumbing, or electrical wiring, an LoM guy must be skilled with his hands. And for the record, Xbox doesn't count.
3. Either slap box a grizzly bear, or arm wrestle an orangutan: Personally, I'd take the bear, as the monkeys fight dirty. Bonus points if you do both.
4. Know the rules: It doesn't matter for what, but know the rules. Nothing worse than the guy who can't tell you the rules. Concurrently, if you don't know the rules don't pretend that you do. Everyone knows when you're faking it.
5. Be a Loyal Wingman: Look I know sometimes its not a good draw. Your buddy gets the the one 10, while you're stuck with the five 2's. But as the honorable Jester once said, "You never leave your wingman." And if Michael Ironside says it, it pretty much has to be gospel right?
(Side Question: When did Kelly McGillis turn into Julie Andrews' stunt double? And why does she look like she could break a hip lying down while Tom Cruise is still making action movies?)
6. You must never wear pink. Ever.
7.You must milk a bald eagle, beat a cheetah in a foot race, pull the impacted wisdom tooth from a moving great white shark, and live to tell about it.
8.No purses can be held: You may laugh at this one, but this rule right here has nearly ended our illustrious institution. To be accused of purse holding is a fate worse than death itself. Tribunals are held, your reputation is dragged through the mud. And even if you are found innocent, the stench that goes along with the label of Purse Holder follows you for a long time. Any LoM member worth his salt can tell you about the Purse Holding incident of 1608. Dark days those were.
And that's it, those are our rules. Now You may be thinking, "Psssh! That's not so tough. I could do that in my sleep!" You may be correct. But these are the feats you must accomplish just to get an application. You still have the Combine, the oral interviews, and a little something that over years has been dubbed "The Decimator". So if you feel brave and want to join, ask a member. But be careful as all members are certified ninja masters, and may kill you.
*All past and present members of the military are exempt from the initial application process.
1. You must have won at least one fight where the odds were stacked against you: Every man can beat up scouts, or prevail in an even fight. But it takes a true LoM man to dominate when he is vastly outnumbered.
2. You must know how to fix something: whether it be computers, plumbing, or electrical wiring, an LoM guy must be skilled with his hands. And for the record, Xbox doesn't count.
3. Either slap box a grizzly bear, or arm wrestle an orangutan: Personally, I'd take the bear, as the monkeys fight dirty. Bonus points if you do both.
4. Know the rules: It doesn't matter for what, but know the rules. Nothing worse than the guy who can't tell you the rules. Concurrently, if you don't know the rules don't pretend that you do. Everyone knows when you're faking it.
5. Be a Loyal Wingman: Look I know sometimes its not a good draw. Your buddy gets the the one 10, while you're stuck with the five 2's. But as the honorable Jester once said, "You never leave your wingman." And if Michael Ironside says it, it pretty much has to be gospel right?
(Side Question: When did Kelly McGillis turn into Julie Andrews' stunt double? And why does she look like she could break a hip lying down while Tom Cruise is still making action movies?)
6. You must never wear pink. Ever.
7.You must milk a bald eagle, beat a cheetah in a foot race, pull the impacted wisdom tooth from a moving great white shark, and live to tell about it.
8.No purses can be held: You may laugh at this one, but this rule right here has nearly ended our illustrious institution. To be accused of purse holding is a fate worse than death itself. Tribunals are held, your reputation is dragged through the mud. And even if you are found innocent, the stench that goes along with the label of Purse Holder follows you for a long time. Any LoM member worth his salt can tell you about the Purse Holding incident of 1608. Dark days those were.
And that's it, those are our rules. Now You may be thinking, "Psssh! That's not so tough. I could do that in my sleep!" You may be correct. But these are the feats you must accomplish just to get an application. You still have the Combine, the oral interviews, and a little something that over years has been dubbed "The Decimator". So if you feel brave and want to join, ask a member. But be careful as all members are certified ninja masters, and may kill you.
*All past and present members of the military are exempt from the initial application process.
Quick Question
I was working on a short story idea, and I came across a question. "What in life is worth killing for?" I asked my brother P.K., who coincidentally is no use when it comes to metaphorical questions, his take. His reply was "Nothing at all." After berating him for being useless(Seriously, he was.), I sent a text to my dad. No more than five minutes later I get this reply: "wife and mother". Accurate, but does not really help me in what I am efforting to do.
So I ask you, well the nine of you who read this, to tell me what do you think is worth killing for?
So I ask you, well the nine of you who read this, to tell me what do you think is worth killing for?
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Pack a Musical Punch
I'm a big fan of the payoff. I'm a sucker for resolution. Especially when it comes to music. I don't know much about chord progression and things like that so the fact that Mozart was able to spell his own name (allegedly) in his music means nothing to me. But I do judge you on your impacts. That moment where you've built up tension to the brim and you just let it all out. Does your impact hit me so hard that I feel it in my chest? Does it evoke some sore of emotional feeling, or does it just make me bob my head? (Unrelated Question: Why are all dudes with naturally crazy hair good at what they do?)
Try this. Even if you don't listen to the whole thing... Just give it up until the after the 1:45 mark. That right there is pure joy to listen to. That to me is great music. Not only is it beautiful, but I see imagery when I hear it.
Try this. Even if you don't listen to the whole thing... Just give it up until the after the 1:45 mark. That right there is pure joy to listen to. That to me is great music. Not only is it beautiful, but I see imagery when I hear it.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Circle The Bandwagons!!!!
Dear Giants Fans,
As I type this your team has just won a World Series. As a lifelong Dodgers fan I have no choice but to sit here and be bitter that your team this year did what my team for the last two years could not. Beat the Phillies and won the world series. Doesn't mean I can't be mad though.
I know there are some of you who are true fans. So for the handful of you who know who Robby Thompson is, please skip the next paragraph or so. I want to address the bandwagoners for just a few moments. Now some of you may get upset and say "Hey! I'm not a bandwagon fan!" I've been following the giants since July and they were bad back then!" You sir are a bandwagon fan no doubt about it. The fact that you are over the age of 15 and own a panda hat confirms it. You will probably be the guy at the parade wearing the fake beard your mom made you when the playoffs started. I work in SF and its been rough the last 4 weeks walking around my job as everyday more people showed up in brand new, crispy clean Giants hats, saying things like “Gee that Brian Wilson is good closer, but is he the son of that guy from the Beach Boys?” Another example. In May I got the opportunity to go and sit in a box seat that my company owns. All the other people stayed in the room drinking copious amounts of alcohol while I was the only one that watched. Now these same people are quoting Aubrey Huff’s batting average with runners in scoring position. True story time! After Hit his homer a guy in my office screamed out, "OMG!(yes, he actually used omg) that guy just hit a bases loaded 3 run homer!" Say hello to you 2011 new fan!!!
So congrats true Giants fans, you’ve earned it. For you lifers, I know you’ve been through a lot. The ’89 quake series, and the game six Russ Ortiz debacle in ‘02. Not to forget the year Skinny Barry and the gang won 100 games and couldn’t beat the Dodgers on the last day to get into the postseason. I’ve been there through it all with you and tap danced on your tears. I wore a rally monkey and constantly said things like “Too bad they haven’t won on the west coast.” and I deserve this moment right now. So enjoy the upcoming ticket price raise, all the seats being bought up by companies so their VP of marketing can wine and dine clients. Or by business execs who show up late, text or check email until the 7th inning, and then leave early. Or the bleacher creatures who only talk junk to old ladies, little girls, or when your team is up by double digit runs. Enjoy being pushed out by wine drinkers, and people who don’t understand why you cheer for a sacrifice fly. Since the Dodgers have lost, I have shifted my focus to football and basketball seasons. And know that I take great joy in remembering that the local teams still suck at these sports.
Some may ask, “Bobby why do you say hateful things about the Giants?” Because I’m a Dodgers fan, and its my job, and as I speak people who lay dormant for months are blowing up my facebook wall with posts about how they knew this was their year. About how, they knew back in April that this team had magic, and that a bunch of has beens and almost weres would bring home the title. I’d hoped that the Giants would go on a Red Soxian type drought where generations of fans knew nothing but heartbreak. Like I told a coworker today, “If the Giants were playing an alien race… and the loser would have their entire race annihilated? I would root for the aliens.” So erect your statue of Aubrey Huff and talk about how Cody Ross and Aaron Rowand are first ballot hall of famers. I’ve said my piece and I will say no more…. Until next season that is. Now if you will excuse me, I have to get to my car before I’m hit by a rioter throwing empty Merlot bottles.
As I type this your team has just won a World Series. As a lifelong Dodgers fan I have no choice but to sit here and be bitter that your team this year did what my team for the last two years could not. Beat the Phillies and won the world series. Doesn't mean I can't be mad though.
I know there are some of you who are true fans. So for the handful of you who know who Robby Thompson is, please skip the next paragraph or so. I want to address the bandwagoners for just a few moments. Now some of you may get upset and say "Hey! I'm not a bandwagon fan!" I've been following the giants since July and they were bad back then!" You sir are a bandwagon fan no doubt about it. The fact that you are over the age of 15 and own a panda hat confirms it. You will probably be the guy at the parade wearing the fake beard your mom made you when the playoffs started. I work in SF and its been rough the last 4 weeks walking around my job as everyday more people showed up in brand new, crispy clean Giants hats, saying things like “Gee that Brian Wilson is good closer, but is he the son of that guy from the Beach Boys?” Another example. In May I got the opportunity to go and sit in a box seat that my company owns. All the other people stayed in the room drinking copious amounts of alcohol while I was the only one that watched. Now these same people are quoting Aubrey Huff’s batting average with runners in scoring position. True story time! After Hit his homer a guy in my office screamed out, "OMG!(yes, he actually used omg) that guy just hit a bases loaded 3 run homer!" Say hello to you 2011 new fan!!!
So congrats true Giants fans, you’ve earned it. For you lifers, I know you’ve been through a lot. The ’89 quake series, and the game six Russ Ortiz debacle in ‘02. Not to forget the year Skinny Barry and the gang won 100 games and couldn’t beat the Dodgers on the last day to get into the postseason. I’ve been there through it all with you and tap danced on your tears. I wore a rally monkey and constantly said things like “Too bad they haven’t won on the west coast.” and I deserve this moment right now. So enjoy the upcoming ticket price raise, all the seats being bought up by companies so their VP of marketing can wine and dine clients. Or by business execs who show up late, text or check email until the 7th inning, and then leave early. Or the bleacher creatures who only talk junk to old ladies, little girls, or when your team is up by double digit runs. Enjoy being pushed out by wine drinkers, and people who don’t understand why you cheer for a sacrifice fly. Since the Dodgers have lost, I have shifted my focus to football and basketball seasons. And know that I take great joy in remembering that the local teams still suck at these sports.
Some may ask, “Bobby why do you say hateful things about the Giants?” Because I’m a Dodgers fan, and its my job, and as I speak people who lay dormant for months are blowing up my facebook wall with posts about how they knew this was their year. About how, they knew back in April that this team had magic, and that a bunch of has beens and almost weres would bring home the title. I’d hoped that the Giants would go on a Red Soxian type drought where generations of fans knew nothing but heartbreak. Like I told a coworker today, “If the Giants were playing an alien race… and the loser would have their entire race annihilated? I would root for the aliens.” So erect your statue of Aubrey Huff and talk about how Cody Ross and Aaron Rowand are first ballot hall of famers. I’ve said my piece and I will say no more…. Until next season that is. Now if you will excuse me, I have to get to my car before I’m hit by a rioter throwing empty Merlot bottles.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Blogging Blues
Everyone who reads my blog (thank you to the 5 of you again, for that.) always says two things. They initially start off with, "I love your blog, it's hilarious." To which I always respond with a sincere thank you. Then they follow it up with this, "You should blog more."
I never know what to say to that. don't take it the wrong way, I love the fact that people enjoy reading what I have to say so much that they want to read more of it, but it just gets hard sometimes. I feel like I've run out of things to say.
Maybe I peaked to early. Maybe I will never be able to top the pirate fantasy camp, or the girlfriend/cheeseburger debate. So yeah... does anyone have any ideas?
I never know what to say to that. don't take it the wrong way, I love the fact that people enjoy reading what I have to say so much that they want to read more of it, but it just gets hard sometimes. I feel like I've run out of things to say.
Maybe I peaked to early. Maybe I will never be able to top the pirate fantasy camp, or the girlfriend/cheeseburger debate. So yeah... does anyone have any ideas?
Friday, October 1, 2010
You May Not Know It, But I'm All The Rage In Europe...
So blogger.com just introduced stats. Basically it logs how many views you get, where the most traffic comes from, and which of your blog entries are the most popular. Its a pretty cool tool to have if you're popular... which coincidentally I am not. For me its just a constant reminder that my blog basically goes unnoticed. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining... well maybe I am a little bit. But come on have you read about my epic race against time to save Goldie the Goldfish? (And yes I am aware of the irony of promoting my blog in a place where no one will see it.)
But what has been cool about it, is seeing where in the world people view your blog. I've checked, and I'm getting run in 4 countries. I know people in the US read, but lately there has been an increase of views from the Czech Republic. To me that's pretty cool. That someone on the other side of the world wants to read what I have to say. My goal is to have my blog read in all seven continents. So Austrailia, South America, and Africa I'm looking at you... step your game up.
PS: Shout out to the Czech Republic. If you read on a regular basis. Don't hesitate to leave a comment.
But what has been cool about it, is seeing where in the world people view your blog. I've checked, and I'm getting run in 4 countries. I know people in the US read, but lately there has been an increase of views from the Czech Republic. To me that's pretty cool. That someone on the other side of the world wants to read what I have to say. My goal is to have my blog read in all seven continents. So Austrailia, South America, and Africa I'm looking at you... step your game up.
PS: Shout out to the Czech Republic. If you read on a regular basis. Don't hesitate to leave a comment.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
W.W.H.S.
That stands for What Would Horatio Say? As in Horatio Caine from CSI Miami. For anyone who has watched the show, Horatio Caine(played by David Caruso) delivers cheesy one liners before the opening credits. For a while PK, Showbiz, and I were fascinated with how cheesy his one liners were. So one night we created a game based on his infamous one liners.
The game we play has two versions. Version one involves you hearing his cheesy one liner and then trying to out do him. Version two (my favorite), involves seeing the scene as Horatio sees it, and then seeing who comes the closest to his line.
Now the writers for this show were genius. They created a fool proof formula... they had to. They were committed to Caruso, but then realized after watching his body of work, that dude couldn't act. So during a late night emergency meeting they came up with what I like to call the Caine Corollary, a fool proof way to make Caruso look like he has talent. It goes like this... You take a dead body + its surroundings or occupation = opening show one liner. So using this formula I’m going to create Horatio Caine one liners just for you. I'm adding a link to a sound effect button (right click on the link and open in a new window for maximum effectiveness.), and you can click it at the end of reading, to add to the impact of these one liners.
Dead body + magician + stuffed in a trunk = Someone really wanted to make sure our friend disappeared for his final act...
Dead body + CEO + Found in chair the next morning = Guess no one told that working overtime was hazardous to his health...
But what makes it so awesome is that using the Caine Corollary, you can create your own one liners for use in everyday situations. Just eliminate the "Dead Body" portion and substitute something else.
Mom and store clerk + Supermarket + Cleanup in the dairy isle = You know what they say... there's no use crying over spilled milk.
Man and woman + At the gym + Having an argument = Some couples... just don't work out.
Cheesy, but awesome. I challenge you to come up with one and sent it to me. Winner will be immortalized in the "Welcome to my Mind" Hall of Fame. And even if you don't send one in, just try it for fun. It's always interesting to see the reactions you get.
The game we play has two versions. Version one involves you hearing his cheesy one liner and then trying to out do him. Version two (my favorite), involves seeing the scene as Horatio sees it, and then seeing who comes the closest to his line.
Now the writers for this show were genius. They created a fool proof formula... they had to. They were committed to Caruso, but then realized after watching his body of work, that dude couldn't act. So during a late night emergency meeting they came up with what I like to call the Caine Corollary, a fool proof way to make Caruso look like he has talent. It goes like this... You take a dead body + its surroundings or occupation = opening show one liner. So using this formula I’m going to create Horatio Caine one liners just for you. I'm adding a link to a sound effect button (right click on the link and open in a new window for maximum effectiveness.), and you can click it at the end of reading, to add to the impact of these one liners.
Dead body + magician + stuffed in a trunk = Someone really wanted to make sure our friend disappeared for his final act...
Dead body + CEO + Found in chair the next morning = Guess no one told that working overtime was hazardous to his health...
But what makes it so awesome is that using the Caine Corollary, you can create your own one liners for use in everyday situations. Just eliminate the "Dead Body" portion and substitute something else.
Mom and store clerk + Supermarket + Cleanup in the dairy isle = You know what they say... there's no use crying over spilled milk.
Man and woman + At the gym + Having an argument = Some couples... just don't work out.
Cheesy, but awesome. I challenge you to come up with one and sent it to me. Winner will be immortalized in the "Welcome to my Mind" Hall of Fame. And even if you don't send one in, just try it for fun. It's always interesting to see the reactions you get.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Musical Voldemort
So today I was talking to my good friend Joeydee. Which is how I spend a good portion of every day and seeing as how I talk to him so much, its a miracle I've gone this long without ever mentioning him before. We use facebook to communicate, send each other links with interesting topics, and then discuss them. It's kind of like The View, but with dudes. I was going to make an Elizabeth Hasselbeck joke right here, but then you all would question me on how I know so much about the show. (Don't ask...)
Today we were talking about music, and Lady Gaga(last time I mention her name) came up. Joeydee sent me a link with a picture of "She Who Will Not Be Named" (or SWWNBN for short) wearing a dress made of meat. After looking at the picture, my response was that she had on a stupid dress. But then it got me thinking, because someone had recently suggested that I listen to an artist from the UK by the name of Adele. To make a long story short, it was awesome. So I asked Joeydee, "Did the UK get a bunch of old Motown albums and start putting out sneaky good music?" He replied, "Yeah, but they will never be as popular as SWWNBN."
To me that's an injustice. That in this day and age, real quality music and musicians are being drowned out by auto tuners, latex unitards, and meat moo-moos. Marketability is more important to "music lovers" than great lyrics. More importantly, that your fashion statement is valued over whether or not you have talent.
I know this sounds like the old man with his "kid's these days don't know anything" routine. BUt as I get older, I'm slowly starting to see there is a little truth to that. So to artists like Adele, please know that as long as you keep making great music, I will be here to listen to it.
Today we were talking about music, and Lady Gaga(last time I mention her name) came up. Joeydee sent me a link with a picture of "She Who Will Not Be Named" (or SWWNBN for short) wearing a dress made of meat. After looking at the picture, my response was that she had on a stupid dress. But then it got me thinking, because someone had recently suggested that I listen to an artist from the UK by the name of Adele. To make a long story short, it was awesome. So I asked Joeydee, "Did the UK get a bunch of old Motown albums and start putting out sneaky good music?" He replied, "Yeah, but they will never be as popular as SWWNBN."
To me that's an injustice. That in this day and age, real quality music and musicians are being drowned out by auto tuners, latex unitards, and meat moo-moos. Marketability is more important to "music lovers" than great lyrics. More importantly, that your fashion statement is valued over whether or not you have talent.
I know this sounds like the old man with his "kid's these days don't know anything" routine. BUt as I get older, I'm slowly starting to see there is a little truth to that. So to artists like Adele, please know that as long as you keep making great music, I will be here to listen to it.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
How I Spent My Summer...
So it's been awhile, nearly two weeks. I'm starting to feel like the world's worst writer... At least I would, if someone actually read this thing. But enough of me rolling around in self pity, because I'm sure the 7 of you don't appreciate that at all. So let me just go ahead and give you the rundown of how I spent my summer.
I worked... a lot. I ate, and slept a lot. Oh and I also got engaged. That's right, after 7 long years, The Girlfriend got her promotion. I may consider keeping her name in this blog as The Girlfriend, because I don't particularly like the name The Fiance. Sounds too much finance, plus I imagine that the actual word "fiance" is the common slang name of 14th century French executioners. (Purely speculation though, so don't quote me on this.)
But I have a bone to pick with all married men. All the married men I know have given me advice on every phase of marriage except the one I'm in now. If you exclude the "Women are crazy" or the "Let her win the argument" lines, not one piece of useful advice has come out of this whole thing. Well I have found this gap, and I intend to fill it. Starting today I will be chronicling endeavors in the hopes that future generations of men will be adequately prepared for when they are engaged. I have started a new blog... Its called Dead Man Walking: The Final Days of Bobby Williams. It will discuss everything those who com after me will need to know. Kinda like a male version of the view in written form, but way more awesome.
Now I know what you're thinking "This dude sucks at updating one blog regularly, how's he gonna do two?" That is a good question. My response is this: shut it. I have no need for your rational questions. And in the future if you have another one of those, keep it to yourself. But in all seriousness this is a concerted effort to bombard you with me. Because you clearly need to know what I'm thinking more often.
I worked... a lot. I ate, and slept a lot. Oh and I also got engaged. That's right, after 7 long years, The Girlfriend got her promotion. I may consider keeping her name in this blog as The Girlfriend, because I don't particularly like the name The Fiance. Sounds too much finance, plus I imagine that the actual word "fiance" is the common slang name of 14th century French executioners. (Purely speculation though, so don't quote me on this.)
But I have a bone to pick with all married men. All the married men I know have given me advice on every phase of marriage except the one I'm in now. If you exclude the "Women are crazy" or the "Let her win the argument" lines, not one piece of useful advice has come out of this whole thing. Well I have found this gap, and I intend to fill it. Starting today I will be chronicling endeavors in the hopes that future generations of men will be adequately prepared for when they are engaged. I have started a new blog... Its called Dead Man Walking: The Final Days of Bobby Williams. It will discuss everything those who com after me will need to know. Kinda like a male version of the view in written form, but way more awesome.
Now I know what you're thinking "This dude sucks at updating one blog regularly, how's he gonna do two?" That is a good question. My response is this: shut it. I have no need for your rational questions. And in the future if you have another one of those, keep it to yourself. But in all seriousness this is a concerted effort to bombard you with me. Because you clearly need to know what I'm thinking more often.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Going Through Some Things...
Not really sure what this is... But it needed to get out.
I hate coming to see you, and not because I don’t love you,
but because I don’t like seeing you in your condition.
Seeing you struggle to live, is like watching the best of me die slowly.
Your hands that held me up now hold onto me as I support you.
Seeing you spoon fed you the same way you did me years ago,
the irony of the situation not lost.
So I go, I travel to see you knowing that each and every time could be the last.
I leave feeling better and yet somehow worse, for time spent with you is both a blessing
and bittersweet.
I hate coming to see you, and not because I don’t love you,
but because I don’t like seeing you in your condition.
Seeing you struggle to live, is like watching the best of me die slowly.
Your hands that held me up now hold onto me as I support you.
Seeing you spoon fed you the same way you did me years ago,
the irony of the situation not lost.
So I go, I travel to see you knowing that each and every time could be the last.
I leave feeling better and yet somehow worse, for time spent with you is both a blessing
and bittersweet.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Running Is Not FUNdamental.
So since we've last talked, I've started to get into better shape. I looked at myself in the mirror recently and was not happy with what I was seeing. With big things in the works, now seemed like a good time to tighten up the abs, tone the pecks, and upgrade to bigger guns.
So I figured I'd start slow, do some jogging 3 times a week. And I must say, it sucks pretty hard. The massive mounts of basketball I have played have apparently turned my knees into the joint equivalent of a baby with a bad case of colic. They communicate their discomfort with my new life choice in the form of pain. Its like someone set my knees on fire, and then stabbed them rusty nails.
And with every step comes a reminder that running for exercise is really a stupid idea. Like running for recreation makes no sense. We were meant to run objectively, to accomplish goals. Back in the day, people were either running to catch food or running not to be food. "But what about the other things, like the runners high?" you ask. That junk is a myth. I don't feel endorphins when I run, I feel hatred. Just a seething anger against my body for its varying aches and pains. And after I'm done I can't enjoy completing it because I know I gotta come back and do it all over again in 2 days.
You may be thinking, "Well if you hate it so much, then why keep doing it?" and that is a very valid question. Why would someone as intelligent (so I say) and lazy (so others say) run? My answer is simply this: I'm doing it to get a new job. I mean if I'm planning to be the Michael Jordan of underwear models, I gotta do something right?
So I figured I'd start slow, do some jogging 3 times a week. And I must say, it sucks pretty hard. The massive mounts of basketball I have played have apparently turned my knees into the joint equivalent of a baby with a bad case of colic. They communicate their discomfort with my new life choice in the form of pain. Its like someone set my knees on fire, and then stabbed them rusty nails.
And with every step comes a reminder that running for exercise is really a stupid idea. Like running for recreation makes no sense. We were meant to run objectively, to accomplish goals. Back in the day, people were either running to catch food or running not to be food. "But what about the other things, like the runners high?" you ask. That junk is a myth. I don't feel endorphins when I run, I feel hatred. Just a seething anger against my body for its varying aches and pains. And after I'm done I can't enjoy completing it because I know I gotta come back and do it all over again in 2 days.
You may be thinking, "Well if you hate it so much, then why keep doing it?" and that is a very valid question. Why would someone as intelligent (so I say) and lazy (so others say) run? My answer is simply this: I'm doing it to get a new job. I mean if I'm planning to be the Michael Jordan of underwear models, I gotta do something right?
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