Monday, May 11, 2009

My ass is killing me

never been so drunk
that I threw up in my pants
while taking a dump

My ass hurts.

No, this isn't like my short, yet explosive jailhouse romance that I never plan on telling anyone about...

Let me start from the beginning. Seriously, what the fuck does that even mean? How many people start a story in the middle or the end? I can feel another annoyance post coming on with all these...

Anyway, while I truly enjoy the current martial art I am taking, and have rank befitting of someone who is awesome, I have always wanted to take Aikido. Partially because it is so cool looking to see someone do almost nothing and see the attacker fly away while they just wave their arms around, and also because this allows me to legally cop a feel while trying to throw someone, which is awesome. Sadly this was a total sausagefest, so no go there.... alright I won't lie I did it anyway.

So I get to this place which is in what I like to call Little Mexico, which is that area around southwest Trafficway and Mission, down 31st street from the Fox building... I mosey in, in my super awesome "Got Mullet" t-shirt, totally not gay capri looking karate pants, and Hello Kitty house slippers (don't judge), fully intent on a nice relaxing day aikidoing it up.

I go inside, take off my slippers, stand there sexilly adjusting my junk for 20 seconds, and walk into the main area. I see what looks like the janitor, you know the kind: old guy, has a pot belly, just kinda wandering aimlessly around... I greet him and wait for the uber sensei to show up.

The janitor hands me a form to fill out and walks out of the room and then comes back out in the sensei outfit, which was kind of strange. I fill the form out and try to pass gas quietly (I'm a morning farter) and failed miserably at it.

Anyway, it's go time. I amble into the main dojo area, which looks like one of the industrial area torture rooms in Saw, walk onto the mats and figure I will wow them with my awesome kata work. No one seems impressed, and I feel like a sad panda.

We start class, and after sitting in the most uncomfortable position known to man *Side note: in a lot of martial arts they want you to sit in what is called seizan, which is when you sit on the heels of your feet while they are folded neatly under yourself, putting all of your weight on your stretched out footsies. Oucheroo guy! The whole time I was trying to do that and not blow ass as everyone was completely silent. Not easy.

We begin with sexy time warm ups, which is rolling onto your back from a standing position and then rolling back up without using your hands, which was the most physical activity I had experienced since my sons were consummated, when I had to run all the way around the house to pull the mailman off my wife because they locked the front door. Then we start with the throwing. In Aikido, you use the attacker's energy and redirect it to get them away from you; it looks totally and completely fake because of how little touching and how little effort is expelled throwing these guys 5 feet away. Let me tell you, not only is it real, but if you do not know how to fall (being a true man/ martial artist, I know neither how to fall down or how to cry), it fucking hurts.

Numerous times all I saw the instructor or the other random homeless people who wandered in do is flap their arms and next thing I know I am kissing either rubber floor or concrete. Ouch. It was a two hour class and I think I literally sweat out enough to quench the thirst of an entire Rwandan refugee camp, with enough salt to season their rice that they would eat along with such a hefty and delicious beverage....

Anyway, this was all totally and completely awesome, but for a few things:

1. If you are going to be getting thisclose to someone else, and getting them in headlocks or you are certain they are going to have to touch your armpit areas, wear deodorant. I mean, seriously... it makes it hard to learn when I am constantly mesmerized by your funk.

2. When we got a 5 minute break between classes, I walked out into the main area and the instructor was out there pushing farts out by rubbing his tummy. The look of complete and total satisfaction on his face was serene yet disturbing.

3. (Nasty) Just like the first time I fingered a girl in my tender years (sadly I was 5 or 6 because it was my babysitter), I could not stop sniffing someone's (more than one person forwent deodorant) incredible funk on my fingers. It completely grossed me out and I hated myself for doing it, but every time I got a waft I would sniff my fingers while frowning profusely. This was very entertaining to the gentlemen standing on the corner at 20th and Southwest Trafficway, and I would just like to go on record and say that it was not my fault. Fuck I sound like a nasty ass when I reread it, and it really and truly grosses me out that I did that, but it's like when you smell a totally rank fart. You know it's gross, you don't want to smell it, but you can't fucking help yourself. Or when you get something nasty on your lip either from rubbing your arm across it to brush sweat away or your nose is snotting up like crazy. No matter how hard you try, you HAVE to ligget at least once...

I have a theory about all of this, which would also explain why when you take a dump, the first thing you do is stand up and look at it, no matter how much you don't want to, and I think it has to do with evolutionary man and all that jazz, but I won't delve into it here.

I already have another post for tomorrow, as I forgot I started one last week but never finished it, man I have almost 400 stories, and I am only 28... fuck my life!

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