Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Crawdads, Crackheads, Crying and Karate

Crawdads, Crackheads, Crying and Karate

help a child read good
buy a wino an ice cream
punch a pedophile

Busy, busy weekend all. Let's get to it.

So on Saturday, I donned my safari gear, filled my bait pouch with meth and Poison/Def Leppard/ Quiet Riot/ WHitesnake cassette tapes (because old Camaros and El Caminos don't use fancy schmancy cd players), and with the rest of my dojo travelled to beautiful Independence, Missouri to spar with a different school, part of our outreach program.

So we get there, and it is a pleasant surprise. It seems to be a pretty decent school, the people there are pretty awesome, good times sparring, plus I tit punched what was I am assuming a 15-16 year old girl, then kicked her in the stomach hard enough to make her turtle (I am not sure I made her turtle, and it was pretty loud, but I coulda swore I heard an anguished fart escape). The best part of sparring was when I got to spar with the instructor, and we were karateing it up so much we were almost out of the dojo and into the parking lot, where I would assume we would then switch to a West Side Story- style dance fight, replete with spiked mullets, Thriller jackets, too tight highwaters and tiny switchblades. Except I don't know how to hum.

Anyway, we finish the karawtefest, luckily no injuries, and it is decided we will go to Joe's Crab Shack to eat.

For those of you who do not live in the KC area or haven't seen the commercials because you are pooping into a sandtrap (support the troops), Joe's is a crabshack much like CHilis, in that it tries to look genuine or like a nice place to hang out, but unless you are wearing khakis, have spiked hair and engage in extreme sports, not for you.

So from the commercials, I order the "Orleans", which is a pound of crawfish, a pound of shrimp, some baby potatoes, a tiny corn on the cob all in a net. It was, firstly, without a doubt the most spicy food I have ever eaten in my life. My lips were on fire. even my fucking drink tasted like Hade's balls.

I must ask though: what is the allure of the crawdad? First of all, they look like big red grasshopers with claws. How appetizing does that sound? Second, there is an on average 1.5 minute process to go through EACH FUCKING TIME to get to the only part which is edible, which is the tail. Third, after all that work, you get a tiny tiny nibble of what COULD be a tasty treat, but the sample size is much too small to tell, much like I used to get told after dates (zing!). I mean, fuck me, there's a pound of crawdads in the Orleans meal, and I got maybe 2 ounces of actual fucking food. The rest of the meal was what looked like dead insects in a puddle of butter and fat. YUM...

"But Stevester, what does any of this have to do with crying crackheads" you may be wondering. Well, shut up and I'll get to it! Sorry, I am trying to go cold turkey on coffee and withdrawal is causing some grumpiness and a little anal leakage (I drink my coffee through a tube shoved up my ass so I get ALL the caffeine, which leads to awkward times)

So after the exhaustion of Saturday and sparring almost literally all day, coupled with spending 25 dollars on something I could dig around in any shit pond and eat for free, I was ready for a long, relaxing Sunday, wearing nothing more than my holey chicago bulls cutoff sweat pant shorts, dirty wifebeater and watching porn while the kids played outside. This, ladies, is the perfect day for a guy, the only way it could be better is if there was football on all day and there was PBR in the fridge. If some guy says he would rather go shopping with you or go see a play, he is gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Apparently, in order to get sexy time, I had promised weeks ago to go to a birthday party for my niece. I have no idea if it was really for sexy time, but that makes for a better story and my wife said it so it is easier to acquiesce than it is to argue. I don't particularly like my niece, I don't hate her but like any 15 year old young lady she is a little spoiled. But this part of the story isn't about her.

The party was to be held in a park in the middle of Independence, Missouri. Not in the good part, where you can be sure your meth was cooked in a clean bathtub, but in the other part. We get to the park, head over to the shelters, and there is a rather scruffy looking gentleman sitting there reading a book. No one pays him any mind, and he moves to another table to give us some privacy, so all in all if he is a wino he is a respectable one, and I almost thought of high fiving him. We get down to the art of setting up a party for a teenager, which included me doing nothing because I'm a man and a jerk. The boys head down to the water park portion of the park, and are dancing around and probably pissing themselves to utopia, and I notice one of the kids looks a lot older and is less playing around, more bathing. She is still dressed, but you can tell she is not a kid, as no parent I know would allow shorts that small on their kids.

WHatevs, she moseys up to the scruffy guy and they sit there, her looking at me every few minutes, with what I wrongly guessed was revulsion, as I was neither white nor Mexirican, like the other patrons there. The fact that I was making out with my wife and that other wino probably also got me the looks. I ignore her, and the rest of the guests show up. One of them knows her, and she asks him in a loud voice if he would introduce her to me. The realization of why she had been staring at me sets in, and cold, dank fear gripped the Stevester's tender testes...

You see, the fairer sex's default reaction to the Stevester is revulsion, annoyance, and in the case of my lovely wife, utter awe that jellyrolls can jiggle so voraciously. This has led to me either being completely oblivious to obvious attraction (my wife) or, in this case, at a loss for how to respond. I will tell you, I was prepared to fight someone, as racism is still alive and well and the sight of me dry humping my wife into submission is a battle cry for some of the more mulleted mustachio aficionados frequenting said borough... but I was not prepared for some crackhead lady trying to entice me by flashing her camel toe in her cutoff shorts and then crying loudly when I did not make sweet love to her... I am sure for some of the more attractive people who read this blog this is a normal thing, but I felt awful about it.

I mean, come on, I can't fault the lady's taste in men, or the come hither look she flashed me as she headed for the public shitter, or the sadness on her face as she came out after realizing I wasn't going to pound her in a filthy restroom... ok I was but I couldn't get away from everyone else! Ugh, even joking about that illicits images I would rather not see....

Anyway, more later, There are a few sexy updates on Smeagol, and I would appreciate it if you voted on the poll. My sister informed me that under NO CIRCUMSTANCES was I to let Smeagol know she was having a huge get together. I was allowed to let JJ know. Smeagol, for all intents and purposes, lives at my mom's house right now. Should I?


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