This Blog Writes Itself

I won't apologize for the long absence because I'm not paid to blog, and the internet is not my girlfriend (despite the amount of p0rn on there). I have been busy, but I should have more time to waste...errr, I mean to "be creative" on the internet in '08. Either that or I will finally kill this blog (which, like a drug resistant staph infection, or Jason from Friday the 13th, proves remarkably resilient).

In the meantime, since I don't feel like thinking of ways to entertain you, why don't you go fu...errr I mean, entertain yourself. Or better yet, in an homage to a dearly departed blogger, I'll take suggestions from the peanut gallery. You can ask me a question (like "how old is your dog") or you can make a suggestion (like "tell us about the first time you had a concussion"). By the way, when I say "make a suggestion" that doesn't mean you should suggest things like "why don't you go fcuk yourself"....errr, I mean "entertain yourself". I meant make a suggestion about what to write on this blog (like "do a post on bacon" or "tell us about [something] interesting]"). If you know me in real life you can make a non-blog suggestion (like "get rid of that euro sweater" or "take skydiving class" or "go entertain yourself".). But if not, then keep it to blog content.

I will be spending a few days in NYC with my wacky family (which is slightly different from the wacky family I usually spend time in florida with) so I should be back to blogging with newer and more traumatic family stories for the new year. Merry Christmas Everyone!

The Salvador Dali Commute

I think sometimes life becomes surreal when it's most banal. I was walking my usual commute yesterday and nothing out of the ordinary happened, just like every day for the past five years, when I heard a crashing sound and I saw a guy on a bicycle flip head over feet when he collided with a Miata. I took off my headphones and walked accross the street (for entertainment, not because I cared if anyone was injured), and I assessed the situation.


The guy on the bike wasn't wearing a helmet, but he looked unharmed (not so for his bike). He was a tall, bald black gay man. (by the way, only black folks should shave their heads bald, when white people do it, it looks gay). Now, normally I would agree with those people who say that you can't tell if someone is gay by looking at him, but this guy was an exception. You can usually tell when someone is gay if they are flaming, and this guy wasn't just flaming....he was on fire. When he was yelling at the guy in the Miata (yes, a guy was driving the Miata, don't get me started), he sounded like Wesley Snipes in that To Wong Fu movie.



"You almost KILLED me...you crazy old man, with your little midlife crisis car, why don't you look where you're going!"







The driver, a short, old, white guy in mid 50s with a piece of toilet paper stuck to his face (not making any of this up) to cover a shaving accident got out and instead of looking at the biker, was obsessing about his passenger side mirror. Two accidents in one day, chief...maybe you should call it a day. Normally I would tell someone if they had toilet paper on their face, but I didn't like this guy very much.

Old old lady with blue hair stopped and asked the bicyclist if he was okay and wanted to call an ambulance.

"No, I'm okay, but thank you for asking...unlike SOME people...yes, I'm okay sir, really I am, no need for you to get off your black berry phone or anything to see if I broke anything. I' m sorry if I inconvenienced you when you ran me over...did you spill your latte?"

Then the old lady started berating the old guy to get off his phone and told him what a jerk he was.

"Well, look at my car, there's glass everywhere!"

They stood there for a few seconds, the bald black man fixing his bike wheel, the short white man with toilet paper on his face fumbling with his blackberry, and the blue haired lady lecturing on rudeness...it looked like David Lynch movie. The only thing missing was a midget and an old lady carrying a log.

Then the flaming bald guy got on his bike and left, and the old guy with toilet paper on his face got back in his car and drove away. The lady with the blue hair turned into a midget and ate a lion with her....okay, that last part didn't happen, she just walked away too. Just another banal commute...

Not So Black Friday and A Modest Proposal

I don't really like people. Well, I like them individually, or in small groups, but in a crowd I can't stand them. The lack of crowds is probably the biggest selling point for being a good Catholic. Since 99.9% of the population is going to hell (yes, this includes you polytheistic animists, buddhists, and protestants), the lines for the bathroom there must be outrageous. I'd much rather go to the nice place (although the people there are probably the condensending religious nuts that I can't stand, so I'll probably have to spend most of my time on the Holy Xbox 360).

Anyway, when I was younger* I used to work in retail selling electronics, and Black Friday was the worst day of the year. It wasn't then that I started hating crowds (I've always hated them) but it definitely took a pre-existing condition and made it worse. Like when someone is afraid of heights, and you take them to a high place and throw live snakes at them, so that they are now afraid of heights and snakes...and you. The rude people, the jostling, the people grabbing you ("I WAS HERE FIRST"), the screaming kids, the screaming parents, the screaming salespeople. Ugh!.

Part of the reason that I'm grateful that most of my family is in Florida (and the rest are in NYC) is that I can do most of my Christmas shopping online. That's right, people, those computer things you are staring at are used for things other than reading my blog and looking at p0rn. I probably miss out on a lot of those doorbuster sales where they sell you a 52" flat screen TV for $99 if you are one of the first 10 people to show up at 4am and are willing to kneecap an old lady in front of you to get it, but then again I don't have to deal with people.

If you are a person, don't take that personally. As I've said, if you're reading this and I met you individually, I would probably like you. But if were in a crowd (especially one with torches and pitchforks chanting "kill Home Improvement Ninja") then I would probably think you sucked. No offense.

Which brings me to my point. (yes, I have a point...sometimes). If I was in charge of the world, I would fix the holidays. I would fix everything in fact. I could solve the crime problem because I can take one look at someone and tell if they are a criminal (I grew up in NYC, so it's not that difficult since most people in NYC are crooks) and just order them executed.

But back to the holidays. Holidays suck because of the crowds. And the crowds are there because everyone celebrates Christmas on the same day. Well, I have a solution. If I was in charge, I would justgive everyone a different day for Christmas. That way, the crowds would be spread out over 365 days a year. In case you're wondering when Christmas would be for you (because it's always about YOU isn't it?), well your day to GIVE gifts would be on your birthday.

Besides the crowds, doing it my way would also make people remember your birthday, because if they didn't come over and give you a birthday gift, then they wouldn't get a Christmas gift in return. It's genius in it's simplicity. Now all I need is to be appointed dictator (hahaha Dick- Tater) and I will fix all your problems.


*wow, that makes me sound old. Lemme tell you about when I was a kid before we had computers and the internets. We walked to school (5 miles each way) and looked things up in these heavy things called books, that had sharp things called pages that would cut your fingers. Ronald Reagan was president back then...

Random Stuff

Well, the week hasn't been going as well as planned. My "friend with benefits" (the tattoo and piercings girl from the art show) hasn't come down to "hook a brother up" in almost 2 weeks. I even offered to come up to Baltimore* to deliver the goods. But she was flying out of town for Thanksgiving.

Girl: I'll be back Friday...I bring you back some turkey.
HIN: Is that slang for for vagina?
Girl: Hahaha...you're such a kidder.
HIN: Uhhh, yeah...I was kidding...I'd much rather have turkey than vagina.
Girl: Hahaha...okay, I'll bring you back some of both.
HIN: Sweeeeet!

As I was talking, I got a call from one of my oldest friends in NYC, The Benonshurt Kid. I decided to switch over because the way things have been going lately I was worried it might be bad news.

TBK: Guess what? My wife is pregnant again!
HIN: That's awesome...are you the father this time?
TBK: Asshole!

I can kid around with him like that because we've been friends for such a long time...well that and because no one has invented a device to let you punch someone in the face over the phone yet. Anyway, TBK's previous wife (who was pregnant) died on 9/11 , so I'm glad that he's got something to look forward to this holiday season.

Moving on...

I decided against driving up to NYC for Thanksgiving, since I'm feeling lazy and unmotivated. Plus there's some family drama that I don't feel like being a part of. It's not a major holiday amongst my peoples (like Christmas, Easter or Shuriken Day) so its no biggie.

Moving on again...

I found out that some members of the ninja clan will be coming up for Christmas. Although this saves me from having to fly down to Florida, the last time they were here, the feral children almost got me banned from one of the few restaurants in my neighborhood that doesn't serve you food from behind bulletproof glass. So this time we'll be dining in Arlington. Feel my wrath, yuppies!!!

Anyway, maybe the need to avoid my family quietly judging me will motivate to finish up some lingering projects at the fortress....or maybe not.



*normally I'd rather get kicked in the nuts than go to Baltimore, but TWO WEEKS people!!!

Gentrification and Booze

Well gentrification has its upsides, no matter what they say. I was on a part of Georgia Avenue today which isn't exactly an area where the yuppies go for their fair trade organic soy chai decaf lattes at Starbucks.

I was there to attend a brainwashing, errr, I mean "orientation" for people who want to be foster owners for dogs until they are adopted. I have been thinking of getting a dog, and I figured this would be a good way to see if I am ready for that kind of commitment. Plus, having a dog for a few weeks, then getting a different dog, then another one, without having to commit to one is great in principle. It's like being single, young, rich, and having lots of money. New bitches every week and no commitment!

On the way back I needed to get a present for a birthday partay that I was going to. A friend suggested beaujolais nouveau, which is a special holiday wine that they make, that you should drink before the end of the year, because within 6 months it tastes like a mixture of balsamic vinegar, dirt and that stuff between your toes when you jog.

After the brainwashing, I went to visit the shelter dogs, one of whom's life I might spare in the near future, and then went to the liqour store. Luckily, I was on one of the parts of Georgia Avenue that have 3 liqour stores on every block (okay, one was a homeless guy offering to sell me a drink from his 40 ounce bottle of malt liqour, but you get the point). There were 2 liquors across the street from each other...seriously. Are people really thirsty on Georgia Avenue?

At the first place I went, the guy behind the counter told me that he wasn't sure if they had "Booo-jo-lay" but he said to check in the room in the back with the sign that said "wine library" (I wish I was making this up but I'm not). I saw a guy who looked like an extra on the Sopranos, who I assumed was the Wine Librarian (is that the proper term?). He mispronounced "beaujolais" and then told me that he ordered it, but it wasn't in yet. Then he offered to kill Don Corleone and end the feud between the five families of the Cosa Nostra if I would agree to back his bid to be Capo di Tutti Capi--the boss of all bosses (sort of like the Pope of the Mafia). Okay, that didn't really happen, but with his accent, it very well could have.

At the second place, they tried to sell me some of LAST year's beaujolais. Since the stuff goes bad after a few months, that's not a good idea. The price was cheap, but after a year it probably tastes worse than battery acid or cajun cooking so I said no thanks. He suggested some champagne, which sounded like a good idea.

HIN: I want one that will fool them into thinking I have class

Guy: How about some Cristal?

HIN: No, I'm not trying to convince them I'm a rapper.

Guy: This Dom Perignon is $200, it very classy!

HIN: No ones gonna believe I'm that classy.

Guy: How classy do you want to be?

HIN: I'd like a hundred bucks worth of class...plus tax. It's a special occasion.

I realized I probably shouldn't be getting advice on class from a guy with gang tattoos on his neck, so I called a friend (with class) and mispronounced the names of the champagnes they had until she said "yes, that's a good one." Then I was off to a birthday partay at the Decatur House. It was black tie, and I had my own Tuxedo, because I'm all classy and shit.

The Decatur House is one of the oldest houses in DC and it's historically preserved. I had no idea that in colonial times they had things like urinals and fluorescent lighting, but I'm not a history buff.

Why Men Love Bitches

Someone wrote a whole book on the topic of "Why Men Love Bitches". First of all, it's a stupid title because it begs the question of "Do men love bitches?" It assumes the answer is yes, and the author presumes to tell people why that's so. And since women are SOoooo good at figuring out what we men think, this author, for fifteen dollars, will tell women why it's not their fault that they are miserable and single.

When I imagine what it would be like to be married to a bitch, I find it hard to imagine because when I see my imaginary wife "Karen" being a bitch, it's hard to imagine why I would ever fall in love and want to marry someone like that. By the way, in my imaginary marriages, all my wives look different, but the bitches are all named Karen. I think they are named Karen because Karen is a bitch's name, or maybe they are named Karen because I dated a bitch named Karen who killed my cat when we broke up. Before I get sued, let me rephrase that and say that my cat died in mysterious circumstances while in her care. Karen never liked the cat because it was a stray that my ex had rescued and given to me because she wasn't allowed to have cats in her apt. I guess she disliked it because it reminded her of my ex...and because she was a bitch. Nonetheless, we broke up and 48 hours later my cat was dead. You do the math.

Anyway, I didn't think that I was one of those men who love bitches, but I slept with a bitch last night and I fell in love with her. Here is a picture of her:


Your name isn't Karen, is it?


Anyway, she was part of Velvet's dog rescue and I got to baby sit the night before. I was tricked into it, but whatever.

Velvet: Are you home yet?

HIN: No...I should be back around 2 am, what's up.

Velvet: I'm coming buy with one of my bitches and I want to know if she can stay with you for the night?

HIN: Is she cute?

Velvet: She's gorgeous!!!

Anyway, that's how I got tricked into letting the bitch come over...with her puppy. Like all bitches, Karen was needy and wanted to cuddle and be reassured that I loved her unconditionally.


And like all bitches, she likes to hurt the ones she loves.

OUCH! Finish teething already, you bitch!






It was difficult letting her go, but I think she'll be happy with the two lesbians who took her home the following day. Who wouldn't be happy if two lesbians wanted to take them home?

Free Plug Fridays

Although I don't mind whoring stuff for money, no one is paying me for the following free plugs. And you're probably not a whore if you give it away for free, right?

1. Canine Karma
Only as asshole wouldn't like to own a dog. FACT! So, unless you're an asshole (or allergic, or live in a place where the lease doesn't allow it), you should consider adopting a dog. My friend has a friend (yes, I have friends who are normal enough to have other friends...get over it) who has a rescue organization down in Georgia where they take animals from "high kill" shelters and bring them up north to get adopted by people who don't believe in killing dogs (except for cases of self-defense, rape or incest, of course). They are having doggie adoption thingy in Potomac Yard this Sunday. Read about it HERE.

2. More Karma
The FCBA Foundation is having their annual charity auction this coming Thursday at the Marriott at Metro Center. I know you are wondering what the FCBA is. The answer is that it doesn't matter. It's for a good cause, and they usually auction off great stuff there (dinners at nice restaurants, sports tickets, fine art, wine, stays at nice hotels) and the proceeds go to charity. So you can get some cool stuff and write it off on your taxes. So, just like in the Special Olympics, everybody wins!

3. Authors that don't suck
A. Jeremy Blachman. I'm in the middle of reading Anonymous Lawyer, by the guy who writes the website Anonymous Lawyer. I'll do a full review later, but so far it's really funny. I'm giving him an advanced plug now because I'm assuming that he didn't write a book that was funny in the first half and sucky in the later portions (like the Star Wars saga or the Rocky movies).

B. Karen Siplin. I don't normally (actually, ever) read chick lit, but it just so happens that someone I know writes it...and writes it well. Her two previous books "His Insignificant Other" and "Such a Girl" were both well received by critics and you can pre-order her newest book "Whiskey Road"from Amazon now. Karen sat next to me in junior high and is largely responsible for the bad grade I got in 7th grade science because she was one of my first crushes. She would come in with Pop Tarts and offer me some every class. I pretended I liked them so that we would have something in common.

4. Get Back in Shape
A friend of mine teaches a Jiu Jitsu class in DC on Mondays, Thursdays and Saturdays. It's on the 2nd floor of Third Power Fitness Gym in Adams Morgan. You can find the website for the class HERE. He wants to get a few more students so that he can expand the class to four or five nights a week. If anyone is interested in learning how to master this ancient samurai art (and you don't have a time machine or prior commitments on those days of the week), then you should check it out. (And, no, that's not where I train, so if you want to go there so that you can see me in class and try to choke me, it won't work...if you really want to kick my ass, my name is Randy Couture, and I'll be teaching a seminar in Las Vegas on January 18-20th, 2008. See you there!!!)

The World's Worst Mugger

Okay, here is the mugger story that you asked for in the comments.

I think I met up with the World's Worst Mugger a few nights ago. I don't know where muggers go to learn their profession, but this guy must've cut class at mugger school the day they taught how to pick your targets wisely. I hesitate to bring this up, because I'm not one of those people who brag about being a badass (I am way more lover than fighter). But I'm posting it because:

1. Some blogger wrote something idiotic about muggings recently that pissed me off. It basicly said "I live in the suburbs and I've never been mugged before, and if you have you were probably not paying attention that's why it happened to you". I won't link to it because I don't want to give her site hits;



2. The people I've told this story to think it's funny; and



3. it happened in my driveway, and involved a crackhead.
   
   

Disclaimer:

1. If you ask me what the right thing to do when confronted with a mugger, I would tell you 99 out of 100 times that you should just give them your money because no amount of money is worth risking your life for (especially what little cash you're likely to be carrying around in your wallet.
2. Despite what I'm about to say in this story, I don't want people thinking I live in a bad neighborhood (especially when I try to sell my house for WAY more than I bought it).
   
3. I'm not the type of person who gets into street fights (anymore). Aside from the junkie I kicked in Amsterdam in 2002 (which doesn't count) I haven't been in a street fight since the infamous Jack in the Box drive-through"incident" in 2000 and I don't plan on being in any if it's avoidable. I already have two facial scars and I'm not looking to add any new ones. I'm sure that some chicks did guys with facial scars, but most probably don't so:
   

I'd rather look like this guy














Than this guy
















At any rate, I hesitate to tell this story because the last thing I want is to be in a bar and have someone who read this post think "he doesn't look that tough" and try to punch me in the face. Because then I'll end up with a black eye or someone will end up with my beer bottle smashed across their face (yeah I fight dirty, get over it).

Backstory:

The other day I was helping a friend look at some condos that were in the vicinity of the Ninja Fortress. My friend said "I don't know about this area. A friend of mine was mugged, like, six times in a year here". Because I am an idiot, I mentioned that I'd never run into trouble in that area (knock wood)--the worst thing you could do is tempt the fates. As if by clockwork, a few days laterI ran into either the worst mugger, or most agressive panhandler in the history of the universe.

A DC blogger posted recently about the different kinds of homeless people in DC. Well, I ran into this guy from that website:

The Scary Swindler
Location: Sketchy parts of the city E.G. Questionable sections of U Street at 2am in the morning. [ed. note, the Fortess is near U Street]
This category typically consists of petty thieves and muggers (sometimes high).
When he asks for money you automatically know that means hand over your wallet.
If you aren’t certain whether or not handing over your wallet is a suggestion or a command, his crazy eyes and the broken liquor bottle he is waving at you should make it clear.

Having grown up in NYC, I am familiar with this guy. Apparently some genius somewhere told them that if you say "give me $10" instead of "give me your wallet" that they can claim they are panhandling if the police happen to stumble upon the mugging while they are on their way to the Dunkin Doughnuts. Of course, if you give them $10, they will take your wallet too. It's just a test to see how you will react. Will you run? Yell for help? Fight? or give up your wallet? Or maybe you should just hide somewhere?

Back to the story: I had just come back from a no-gi grappling class. In case you're wondering what that is, it's jiu jitsu that you do without a uniform, in order to simulate what would happen in the real world (like fighting while leaving a bar, or in the parking lot of a Jack in the Box).

I didn't bother to bring a change of clothes, so I was still wearing my rashguard and fight shorts, which have a pocket in the front to keep your mouthpiece in. I even had my cup on. (this is relevant to the story)

Now, if you read my blog you probably figured out that, mentally, I'm not all there. But even if you're a crackhead with no laptop, you can probably figure that out when it's cold outside and I'm walking around in flip-flops and shorts in an alley at 11 pm. So I parked my car behind the fortress and made my through the shared alleyway that leads to the street. (at the end of the alley, a few doors down from the fortress is a boarded up building...and, no, I don't live in the ghetto).

I spotted a tall skinny guy at the front of my alley way. He wasn't walking by, he was just standing there.

Give me ten dollars!

I looked him up and down. He was about 6'2" tall and skinny. He was wearing a denim jacket and was now IN the alleyway, not just in front of it. He was doing some weird shaky thing, which made me positive that he was on something. I didn't think he was armed because I figured if he had something on him, he would have taken it out and threatened me with it by now (I don't know why I thought that but I did).

Now, I don't know if it's because I'm very territorial when it comes to my driveway, or maybe it's because I don't like it when people who are taller than me* try to physically intimidate me...or maybe it was because I was wearing a cup and just spent two hours practicing how to choke people. But for some reason, I wasn't having it. Any of it.

Now because he's a crackhead, he was kinda skinny, so even though he was taller he was probably only 40 lbs heavier than me. And since he was skinny, he had a long neck, and one of my best grappling techniques is choking...you do the math.

I'm not saying that because I'm bragging. If I was bragging on my blog to impress chicks, I would make up lies about how rich I am or how long my dong is, but unless there are women who have a Hannibal Lecter fetish, I don't think anyone is impressed by you telling them how good you are at choking people.

Maybe we can go out to a movie sometime...and dinner. PFtthfhhffhththhthththththththt.








But I AM good at choking people. Once upon a time I studied Judo from this guy and although I'm out of practice, I know about twenty different ways to choke someone. *** And this guy has a long neck so that's almost an engraved invitation. Jus' sayin'

Although I'm not short, tall people bug me. I don't lose my temper easily, but one of the things that makes me lose my temper (besides people who kick puppies and eat babies) is when someone taller than me tries to physically intimidate me.

Yeah, you, motherfcuker! I'm talking to you, I said give me ten dollars!

For some reason, if I had to describe my emotions right then, it wasn't fear, but rage. If we were boxing for the welterweight championship title, I would be in trouble because he's probably got a 12" reach advantage when it comes to punching, (and also because I'm a sh1tty boxer), but we're not in a boxing ring. We're in an 8' wide alley, I'm wearing a cup, and I can tell from the way he's standing that he doesn't know how to grapple.**

I said matter of factly "It's in my wallet...why don't you try and take it?"

Then I reached into the front pocket, took out my mouthpiece and put it in my mouth. (Going to the orthodontist once is bad enough, so if I had a mouthguard on me, I was going to avoid a repeat visit if possible).

When I took out the mouthguard, the look on his face changed instantly. It was as if I had pulled out a knife instead of vulcanized rubber safety equipement. He had that "oh sh1t!" look. As I took a couple of steps towards him and raised my fists, he put his arms up with his palms facing outward walked backward and said

Crackhead: "hey, hey, it's not like that...I was just tryin' to get somethin' to eat.

HIN: Oh really??? Well why didn't you say so?...Get the fcuk outta my driveway!!!

As he walked away I wondered if he would call it quits for the night or take his chances mugging someone else. After the Catholic guilt started kicking in, I reached into my pocket, ran up to him and gave him some money.

HA! Psyche!

If you believed that last sentence, then you must have me confused with some other blogger. There's no way I would lend a crackhead $10. If he's had to resort to mugging to make ends meet, then the odds of him being able to pay me back aren't good. Besides, I'd rather spend it on beer for me, than have him spend it on crack. It's the principle of the thing.

What actually happened is that when he turned to walk away I thought about grabbing him from behind and choking him out with a rear-naked choke, then leaving him there. I wish I could say that what kept me from doing it was that I'm a nice person, but actually, it was that i was 20 feet from the ninja fortress and i figured that if I did it, they would probably find me. Although I don't live next to a Dunkin' Doughnuts, I don't think the cops would have trouble solving the crime.

Now, looking back at what happened, it was a dumb thing to do.

In case you hadn't noticed, I'm kind of a wiseass, and you can't grow up in Brooklyn being a wiseass without having had a few street fights. But I really hate to fight. To me, fighting is like taking home an ugly chick from a bar at closing and making sexy time. It seems like a good idea at the time, but it's something you will regret later. And in the end, fighting is always brutal and terrifying, even if you win--like playing strip poker with Rosie O'Donnell. *shudder*

At the time I wasn't thinking about him having a knife or a gun. (which is stupid on my part) At the time, I was so pissed off that all I could think was "Crackhead, I'm gonna fcuk your sh1t up!"
I guess in the end it was okay. Nobody go hurt, nobody got robbed, and I did refrain from doing something really stupid (even if it wasn't for the right reasons). Plus...I got a blog story out of it. Anybody else have a funny fight story?

*Now, I'm 5.8" tall and according to some (probably inacurate) statistics I am slightly below average height, which is 5'9", if we are to believe the government. The same government who said that Iraq had WMDs and that Hillary Clinton doesn't have a penis. So, pitting my credibility against the government, we'll just say that this is my blog and I'm not short, and that's that.

**if he knew what he was doing, he would stand with one leg forward. Standing with your feet shoulder-width apart (in an alley) makes it really easy for me to shoot for a double-leg takedown, and there's no room to sprawl in an alley to avoid it, so he was going down. Plus he was wearing a jacket, which gives me an advantage (it's easier to control someone by grabbing their sleeves and lapels than it is if they are in a t-shirt).

***if you don't believe me, here they are :1. one handed choke, 2. two handed choke, 3. head and arm choke, 4. guillotine choke, 5. anaconda choke, 6. rear naked choke (RNC) with figure four grip, 7. RNC with cable grip, 8. RNC with half nelson grip, 9.crucifix choke, 10. triangle choke, 11. viking choke, 12. cross choke, 13. reverse cross choke, 14. gogo plata, 15. north-south choke, 16.-20 are "gi chokes" that I don't know the names for.

Odds and Ends:

1. House Stuff:
My trashcan wasn't stolen by a crackhead. It was taken mistakenly by a neighbor who, like me, was too lazy to write their house number on it. I spotted my old trashcan (the one where the rat, errr, raccoon that was hungry had chewed a hole in it). I could've let my neighbor keep my old trashcan (he took it so he must like it better, right?), but I switched them back. I like the new traschcan better but Catholic guilt, like herpes, is something that you can never really be completely cured from.

And speaking of Catholic guilt, I 'm not apologizing to the crackheads of DC for accusing them on the internets of stealing my trashcan. I'm sure they are not really offended because

1. they are on crack and probably too high to be offended by anything; and
2. they probably didn't read my post because they probably sold their computer to buy money for crack.
   

So....no harm, no foul.

2. More House Stuff:
My free tools didn't arrive because some lazy UPS Driver lied to his dispatcher and claimed he came by the fortress five times and the final time delivery was refused. He only came twice and I wouldn't refuse something that's free (especially power tools). I think he must've been out getting "massages" from a whorehouse and lied about delivering his packages. I put in a call to UPS and I'm gonna call the supplier and see if they can re send it. I hate UPS now. Not as much as hate olives or people who stand in your way on the escalator, but I do hate them.

3. My iPod:
Re-loading every single CD I own into my MacBook because I accidentally erased them off my iPod which had been "sync'd" to my old iMac is even less fun than it was the first time I did it. This is probably like saying "getting my wisdom teeth removed the second time isn't as fun as the first time" but I'm trying to keep positive here. I'm starting to hate Steve Jobs and his pretentious hipster black turtlenecks. Not as much as I hate UPS, but I hate him.

4. Ninja Stock Picks:
Today was a good day for the stock market (and the Ninja Porfolio). My portfolio went up $2700 today. That sounds great until I mention that it went down $9000 yesterday.



Smith and Wesson, the second largest holding in the Ninja Portfolio went down 40% yesterday. I don't want to blame Dubya, but what the hell kind of a country do we live in where Republicans get elected and a gun company still can't make enough money to let me be rich enough to move to a tropical island and drink myself into a stupor for the rest of my life. Instead of worrying out bailing out subprime borrowers, who made their own mess, how about some nice government contracts for some American gun manufacturers. And by "some" I mean Smith and Wesson (the other gun manufacturers can go fcuk themselves for all I care).

Anyway, since I'm down a few thousand bucks, I may start charging a subscription fee for this site...anyone wanna buy some CDs? How about some art from people who's names you don't recognize? Maybe you could "invest" in my blog as a (very) silent partner?

5. Halloween:
Despite my not decorating the ninja fortress for Halloween (partly because it's a military facility and shouldn't be decorated and partly because I've been busy, but mostly because I've been lazy) I've had some extortionists come by and I've had to pay them mafia-style protection money in chocolate mini Hershey bars and Kit Kats. It's funny how people are so forgiving when it comes to children. If I put on a ski-mask and threatened to vandalize my neighbors houses unless they paid me, I don't think the police would be as forgiving.

6. Random: I'm debating about whether or not to post about my recent encounter with a crackhead/mugger. The people I've told the story to think it's funny, but I get angry thinking about it so I don't know if I will. Does anyone care about that or should we keep it light?

Odds and Ends

I guess it's time for more randomness.

1. Stolen Trashcan
Another blogger had their trashcan stolen recently in DC. They jumped through the proper hoops and got a new one in a couple of weeks. I can't go that route because I HATE dealing with the DC goverment and I can't go two weeks without throwing out garbage while I wait for a new can. (if you put the bags on the street without a trashcan, you will be fined). The smells from my attempts at cooking are bad enough, but if it was mixed with the smell from two weeks worth of rotting garbage then it would smell worse than Rosie O'Donnell's va-jay-jay, and who wants that?

I guess I *could* borrow one from one of my neighbors (but not the Sudanese guy, because of our border wars over the driveway) but then I would owe them something and the image of one of my neighbors showing up in the middle of the night with a dead hooker in the trunk of his car and saying "c'mon bro, you owe me one...I lent you that trashcan, remember?" just keeps popping up in my head. I don't think my neighbors are the kind of people who go around killing hookers and then asking you to help them get rid of the body, but if I don't borrow their trashcan, then I will never find out. So I like my way better. Besides, despite the disturbing number of Google searches for "dead hooker jokes" (thanks for that, Rock Creek Rambler), and "how do you get rid of a dead hooker" which bring people to my blog, I don't know how to get rid of a dead hooker, and I don't know any dead hooker jokes. Well...except for one:

Q: How come it's not a crime to kill a hooker or a lawyer?

A: Because they are both already dead on the inside.

Anywho...I need that trashcan for other reasons too. I have some debris left over from some projects and I put a leeetle bit in each bag of trash bag that I throw out. I put enough to get rid of everything, eventually, but not enough that the trash men will notice I'm using them to get rid of my crap instead of driving it to the dump because I don't want to get fined.

2. House
A. I'm gonna have someone come out in the next week or two to give me an estimate on the kitchen countertops. I need the countertops to have a working sink. I'm getting really tired of washing my dishes in the bathroom sink. It could be worse, I guess. If I had to wash them in the toilet, that would be worse, but I digress...

B. It's getting cold out so I need to check out the perimiter of the ninja fortress and seal any holes so that mice don't come in and want to hang out inside when it gets cold out. I guess I could buy a cat and not worry about the mice but

1. cat's poop *inside* the house, which is pretty disgusting;
2. they shed hair, which is pretty annoying too;
3. lot's of people are allergic to them, and it's kinda creepy the way they watch you having sex;
4. the only people who should own cat's are women in their 60s, and only if they have several of them and throw birthday parties for them.

C. I bought one of those digital thermostats last year and was too lazy to install it, but I think I will do it this weekend. I like the fact that you can program it to turn on and off whenever you feel like it. It's kind of annoying to manually turn the heat off when I leave for work and then come back to a freezing house and turn it back on. I guess I could leave the heat on all day, but I don't want to do anything to make my place more hospitable for the mice. When they are deciding which house on my block to move to, I want my place to be dead last on their list. When looking for a place to crash, the mice should think of my place should be the equivalant of sleeping on a old futon with funny stains on it, in your friend's drafty basement with the dog who likes to hump your leg.

3. Money:

I was thinking of taking out a home equity loan to pay for the countertops (and to hire someone to drywall the basement because I am sick of working on the place), but I should be coming into some money soon. I just finished my taxes last night. Yes, you read that right. Because I am a procrastinator (and I was missing a few documents) I filed for a 6 month extension on my income taxes on April 15th. The deadline for the extension also passed, and I still hadn't gotten it done when my "friend with benefits" came up with an ingenious idea to motivate me: No sex until you file your taxes. Twenty four hours later, I am glad to report that I should be getting back a LOT of money. I'm kinda pissed off that I gave the Federal and DC goverments a free loan for all this time. But I'm gonna try to do it on time next year.

4. The World Series

Sometimes people don't believe me when I say that I don't really follow most sports. In fact, until yesterday, I had no idea that the World's series was on and which teams were in it. And to be honest, I have about as much interest in following this as watching the Competitive Eating championships in Vegas on Spike TV.*

There is a sport I do follow though. I like to watch the Ultimate Fighting events. I was at a friend's house last week to watch it on pay-per-view (because pay-per-view events are always more fun if someone else does the paying and you do the viewing). My "friend with benefits" wasn't there, which is a good thing. There was so much testosterone in that room that if she showed up, she might have instantaneously sprouted a moustache. Not good. If I was into girls with moustaches, I would move to Italy.**

5. My iPod

I accidentally deleted EVERY song on my iPod. D'oh! I usually charge the thing on my clock radio, but I wasn't thinking and I plugged it into my Macbook to recharge it. Since all my songs were on iTunes in my old iMac and I never loaded the CDs onto my new Macbook (because it takes forever and I'd rather have other hobbies more interesting than "putting CDs in my laptop and waiting...". Not that I actually have hobbies that are more interesting than that, but I'd like to keep my options open.

*Yes, this is a real "sport" on SpikeTV. Is everything a sport now?

**I am 1/16 Italian, so I'm allowed to make jokes like this. And if you are reading this and in the mafia and want "vendetta", all I have to say is that "my name is Karl Rove and come and get it, bitchez!"

Thief!

I stole a trashcan today. You might be wondering why I stole something that the city gives away for free. Well, I put my trash out this morning and when I came back this afternoon, my trashcan was gone. Initially I thought someone stole it.

HIN: I'm calling the cops. It should be pretty easy to find. It's green and plastic, like every other trashcan in DC, but mine has a whole near the top where a racoon chewed a hole in it.* (at least someone appreciates my cooking) The DC Cops are so competent that they should find it in no time.

Friend: Why would someone steal your trashcan with a hole in it, if they could steal one without a hole in it?

HIN: Because crackheads will steal anything, that's why!

Friend: Why would a crackhead steal something that's free?

HIN: Because he's a crackhead!

This circular logic even confused me. Now I guess I could've called the city and asked for another one, in which case they will probably ask me to write a letter, then tell me they never got it, then I would write another letter, then they will relent and give me another trashcan and charge me a meelyun dollars and when I complain about the cost they will refer me to some obscure section of DC trash regulations and then tell me to go fcuk myself.

So I did the next best thing. I stole one from my crazy Sudanese neighbor. The one who dumps dirt in my driveway and rents to 30 illegal immigrants who all want to park their cars (with no license plates) in my driveway. Let him deal with the city. How do you say 'Karma' in sudanese?

*I assume it was a racoon because the thought of a rat doing that scared the bejeesus out of me.

Adventures in Law Part 4: The Green Eyed Monster Named Carl

In the next installment, I'll talk about the Capitol Hill Internship I did while in law school, but in order to put into proper context I think you need to know how I got the job (and I hate excessively long posts, so I'll break it up into 2 posts).

Now, I'm gonna be politically incorrect and say that women who go to law school are not known for their physical beauty. Let's face it, unless a girl is pretty and so smart that she doesn't have to study to get good grades, she's not going to law school because it takes a lot of hard work to get grades that are good enough to get into a good law school and the prettiest girls in your sorority are not sitting in the library on a Saturday night. Jus' sayin'


I got the internship because of my friend from school, who we'll call "Carl" (even though his name is Chris).* Now, Carl is one of those people that you want to hate, but can't. At orientation I met Carl shortly after I met Dirty Dave (who upon seeing the girls at orientation said "this looks like a fcukin' battered women's shelter"). As we've discussed previously, Dave is not known for his tact. At orientation, there were two stunning women who stood out from the pack--like they didn't belong there. There was Kelly (who got a modeling contract in NYC for a couple of years before college, but was born smart enough to get good grades without ever studying), and another stunner who said she wasn't a law student, but rather a CPA. When I asked what she was doing there if she wasn't a student she said she was here with her husband, and introduced me to Carl. Now Carl wasn't the least bit jealous of people talking to his wife because Carl had everything going for him (including a smoking hot wife who worked to support him while he read law books by the pool).

Carl was:

1. blonde hair, blue eyed, and looked like a Ken Doll;


2. Smart;


3. Althletic--Carl does triathlons in his spare time;


4. Tall--he was about 6'4" tall; and


5. a REALLY nice guy;

Carl had so much going for him that it proved that life was unfair, because if it had been fair, then he would've been born with only one testicle or something to make up for all the gifts that nature had bestowed upon him. (actually, Carl was from New Jersey, but I don't think that even bothered him).

But you couldn't hate, or even be jealous of Carl, because he was such a nice guy, that he deserved all the blessings of heaven that came his way. How nice a guy was he? Let me illustrate:

Before class one day we were playing a game (I think Dave came up with it) where you assume the world will end in a nuclear holocaust in 30 minutes. The game consisted of us going around and discussing which girl in the class you would nail in your last 3o minutes on earth. My answer was that I would go next door to Kelly's class, and if she was out that day, I'd come back and do the girl in the front row who always wears the slutty skirts and no bra.

When it was Carl's turn, he refused to play.

Ninja: Look, if the world is going to end, then your wife will never find out because all the witnesses will be dead. Just pick one!

Carl: No way...I love my wife and I wouldn't spend my last 3o minutes on earth being unfaithful to her.

Wow. He was such a nice guy that not only would not cheat on her in real life, he couldn't even be unfaithful to her hypothetically. If he was single, I would introduce him to my sister...although she probably wouldn't date him because he has a job and no tattoos.

Another time, I missed class and asked Carl for the notes from that day. Instead, he made me a floppy disk with all the notes from every class that semester. See? Nice guy.

Now, the way Carl got to work for Senator Shinebox, was that he mentioned to someone he met that he wanted to do an internship on Capitol Hill, and that person (an ex Hill Staffer) liked him so much (even though she only met him 15 minutes before) that she got him a job there. When I needed an extra line on my resume, Carl offerred to get me a job at his office. I had the shortest interview ever because as soon as they found out I was Carl's friend, I was hired.

Next Time: A Chris By By any other Name would be a Carl.

*the Carl/Chris thing will be explained in the next post.

Odds and Ends

1. Sickness:

Okay, I think the worst of the illness is past. Because the new trend in blogging in to give updates on bowel movements: My stool is starting to look normal now. I mean, the consistency, not the color which is darker than normal because of the after effects of Pepto Bismol (which tastes like you are drinking pink chalk). I used my Wolverine-esque mutant healing powers to destroy the virus before it could escape the fortress and destroy all mankind. No need to thank me, people.

Okay, I think I'll avoid this latest blogging trend and leave that for the people who's blogging content is identical to their stool samples.

2. Home Improvement Experiments

I bought a pneumatic framing nailer the other day, and because it came with safety goggles, I was gonna do some work-related experiments by shooting it into dangerous surfaces and seeing what happens (hey, don't give me safety goggles and not expect me to use them, jus' sayin'). But I'll put that off for a couple of weeks because I'm gonna be reviewing some other stuff. Someone from one of the tool manufacturers is gonna mail me a cordless power tool with a new battery that they want me to review on my site. UPS tried to deliver it today, but because I'm not a hausfrau sitting around watching The View, I wasn't home when they came. But this could mark a turning point on my blog. I have foregone the use of advertisers on my blog because I don't believe blogging should be corrupted by capitalism (and because I have no idea how to put up banners, and because I don't trust "the Google" with my bank account info). I heard that some people get laid from blogging, but I didn't know you could get other free stuff (besides pooty-tang) from blogging. Who knew? If anyone else wants to give me stuff (including pooty-tang), please contact me at HomeImprovementNinja@gmail.com.

3. Art:

Okay, in the comments to the art post someone asked me what my art looked like because they wanted to get laid too, I guess (who doesn't?). I'll post pics of the 3 pieces that I bought recently.


This is the piece that the artsy fartsy chick with the tattoos and piercings got all horny for. This piece is about 2 feet by 2 feet. The Title is "Accountability" and, yes, those are bullet holes. I don't know how art can make a girl hot, but then again I have no idea how millions of women can sit through an hour of Grey's Anatomy each week, so there you go.



This piece is about 3 feet by 2 feet. The piece is titled "Blue Stars", in case you didn't know. I don't know the effect that it will have on women because it hasn't been field tested yet, but it looks good on my wall, which can't hurt.






This is a huge piece. It's about 5 feet wide by 4 feet high. The title is "The Overwhelming Nature of Contemplating the Universe and the Desire to Embrace Complexity" (no, I'm not making that up). The artist is a friend of mine who's got a solo show coming up that I'll be pimping in an upcoming episode of "Free Plug Fridays".

Sicko.

I am sick. Realllllly sick. Because I don't ever get sick (even my immune system is badass), if this bug has gotten the better of me, then it's some kind of superbug that will destroy will destroy all mankind (and most of womankind) if not stopped.

I haven't been able to get up for almost 24 hours and I'm hurting bad. For the good of mankind (and womankind) someone should come over to my place and put a bullet in me to end this. If you do decide to come over and kill me, please be aware of certain things:

1. my place is a mess, because I am sick (and lazy) so don't judge me;
2. if you kill me, please return my Netflix movies (Apocalypto has been out for almost 2 weeks and it still sux as bad as the day I got it);
3. if you need to wash up to get the blood off, you should use the garden hose outside. You REALLY don't want to go in that bathroom after what's been going on in that toilet for the past two days. Jus' sayin'.
4. Also, could you set my VCR (my old skool TiVo) to tape tonight's Ultimate Fighter. When I come back to haunt the ninja fortress I'd like to see it.

Thanks!

More Work Gets Done

Because this is, theoretically, a home improvement blog, and because I like to have people over at my house without having them sign a waiver and warning them not to touch anything, and to maybe get a tetanus shot before they come over, I do occasionally get stuff done.

I've been noticing over the past couple of years that the porch paint was peeling and the iron was rusting. This has been low on my list of priorities because I was distracted by other frivolities like having heat and a working toilet, but I digress.

I decided to tackle it recently. I scraped the peeling paint off and the loose bits of rust. I didn't know how bad the rust was, but if it kept going, there would eventually be a hole in my porch. I hope I caught it in time. Well, in time for future buyers not to notice anything wrong.


Here is a pic of all the big chunks of rust I scraped off. It's still sitting there because I have been too lazy to sweep it up, but I'm hoping that the squirrels will eat it and save me the trouble.

There was so much rusty metal that came off, that I'm afraid to have fat people walk on the steps anymore. I don't know if the porch is strong enough to support it. I guess my brother will have to come in from the basement from now on.


Then I painted it with some anti-rusty stuff that is supposed to act as a primer and a rust stoppy thingy. I kinda ran out, because there was so much rust, but this should give you and idea.







Then I painted it with the enamel paint and stuff. Since I don't believe in cleaning unnecessarily, it's pretty obvious where the work was done.

There was another big patch on the other end of the porch, but my camera batteries were dying...and I'm lazy.



I'm gonna try to get some stuff done on the MacGuyver kitchen this weekend. Will keep you posted.

Odds and Ends: The Many Purposes of Modern Art

1. Art Makes Girls Hot, Apparently.

Well, it's been an interesting couple of weeks. I've purchased three new pieces of art in the past two weeks. One of which may or may not have contributed to me getting laid. I think when the artsy fartsy chick in the gallery saw me buying it, she was fooled into thinking I have good taste in art. Luckily she hasn't seen my complete collection, which includes some of the finest examples of the Dogs Playing Poker genre in the greater DC area. Even though the ninja fortress is not complete (no working kitchen sink yet) it's complete enough to hang stuff on the walls and have it look like those kind of houses where normal people live.

Now I usually don't talk about dating on this blog (because only chicks write dating blogs, and I don't have a uterus), but this story was too good to pass up. As I stared at my new purchase, I was approached by the artsy fartsy hottie with tattoos and piercings:

Girl: That's a great piece you bought. What is it that you like about that?

Ninja: Me? Well, it's art...but with bullet holes in it. What's not to like?

Girl: That piece is so visceral. It's got nice elements of brutalism and outsider art influences. It's so political too!

Ninja: Yeah...I thought the same thing. I like the visceral-ality-ness of it...and the outsider thing too...and the bullet holes. It's like a statement on Iraq, but with paradigms and synergies and stuff...or something.

Girl: [blank stare]

Ninja: Uhhh, actually, I can't put it into words (because I don't know what I'm talking about), but for me art is about emotions which are like, too visceral to even, like, put into words and stuff(note to self, look up "visceral" in the dictionary when you get home). Art is, like, something you just feel on the inside and, like, get a sense of its energy.

Girl: Exactly! That's how I feel about art too!

Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet!


2. The Television is Evil

I re-connected my cable recently. I had it disconnected for a year to see if I could live without it. I figured it would force me to do more productive things like go to the gym more, and read more books. What it did, instead, was make me spend more time on "The Internets". So now it's back on and holy crap, is there some bad stuff on there. But, the shining beacon in the wasteland of TV nothingness is VH1, or "Reality TV Heroin” as I like to call it. Rock of Love (the stripper gets a “Bret” tattoo and still LOSES), Flavor of Love (runner up SPITS in winner’s face), The Pickup Artist (45 year old virgin goes to pickup school and STILL can’t pickup chicks), I love New York (group date degenerates into a fistfight), Scott Baiao is 45 and Still Single (he figures out over 2 months what everyone knows in the first 10 minutes…he’s single because he’s an asshole), Hogan Knows Best (pathetic washed up wrestler invents drama to boost his daughter’s “singing” career). Wow...seriously people.

I also got to renew my addiction to the home improvement shows on several channels, or "House Porn", as Mari likes to call it. I have a love-hate relationship with the flipping shows on there. They take inexperienced people, have them do everything wrong, then eventually sell their houses and still make a ton of money. While I hope that, despite my mistakes, I can sell my house in a year or two to a couple of yuppies with more money than brains, part of me wishes that they wouldn't. I try not to dwell on that because of Karma or Ju-ju, or whatever you call it in those religions that don't follow the teachings of the Pope and will therefore lead you to eternal damnation. Jus' sayin'


3. SAMBO Summit 2007 Update.

In other news, I'm really upset that the wedding in Illinois (Part 4 coming soon)
was on the same weekend as the SAMBO Summit 2007. It turns out that Oleg Taktarov showed up as a guest instructor and sparred with the students. That's right, THE Oleg Taktarov, bitchez! I reallllly wish I could've been there. If I sparred against a UFC champion like him, the first thing I would do is take a really cheap shot at him. Then, he would probably break my arm or give me a cool scar of some kind and when people ask me what happened I could say "I got into it with Oleg Taktarov, man...I mean, that guy's a UFC champ and all, but he got outta line and I'm not afraid to step to anybody, 'cuz that's just how I roll, baby." I mean, even if he knocked out all my teeth and I had to eat through a straw for a few months until they surgically reconstructed my jaw and ordered me new teeth, that would be a story I could tell my grandkids (except that by the time I got to be a grandpa, the story would eventually morph so much that I would be the winner...that's assuming that he only breaks my face, and doesn't rip my nuts off).

4. Britney Spears is Uber-white trash

I feel bad for anyone going through a divorce or losing her kids. But if anyone ever tells me again how Britney isn't white trash, I will laugh in their face. If she couldn't sing, she would be dancing on a stripper pole or advertising herself as a "Massage Therapist" on Craigslist, and living back in Louisiana in a single wide with no electricity with an alcoholic auto mechanic who beats her and her six kids (all by different babby daddies).

Sooooo....Britney fails to show up for court-ordered drug tests and is videotaped driving without a license, so the Judge gives her kids to K-Fed. (side note: If you suck at parenting so bad, that K-Fed is considered a better parent than you, then I feel sorry for your kids. There are kids that are raised by wolves who get better parenting than they would from K-Fed).

Anyway, she is ordered to turn over her kids, so she does...in the parking lot of a Carl's Jr. Then, instead of grieving like a normal person, she drives to a tanning salon. Prioritize much, Britney? I guess everyone grieves in their own way. Maybe she grieves by getting a Mystic Tan and a bikini wax?

On the Road Again Part 3: I threaten a Dog

Because I don't believe in straight lines, I am almost done re-capping my trip to St. Louis. You can read the rest of the story in Part 1 and Part 2.


When I first met the world’s most annoying chihuahua, Crash, I sat down on the couch and a blurry running rat-like creature scurried up my leg, scaled my torso, and gave me a headbutt in the chin, then started licking my face.

The dog was strangely needy. He was addicted to attention. I know this because he would shake constantly, like he was going through withdrawl symptoms if there wasn’t someone constantly petting him. I thought I could escape the dog's clingyness when I went to sleep, but I was wrong.

I slept on the futon in my friend's guest room. Despite his repeated denials, I have a sneaking suspicion that the futon was in fact, the dog's bed. My old roommate has 3 daughters and 2 chihuahuas. All his daughters and one of his chihuahuas seemed normal, but the smallest of the five, a dog the size of a burrito was mysteriously taken with my company. Despite my best efforts, the dog manged to burrow his way under the covers and decided that he wanted to sleep in the space between my chin and my shoulder. I rolled over a couple of times in my sleep and gave it my back, and when the dog wanted to work his way back to the front of my neck, he did it in the most annoying way possible: by walking on my face. As if this wasn’t bad enough, about the third time I rolled over in my sleep, the dog had enough of my fidgeting and decided to keep my from rolling over by biting me on the nose. Asshole dog!

I shoved him off the bed and saw him climb into one of my shoes and take a seat. At first I thought it was cute that the dog was so small that it could sit IN my shoe like it was a papasan chair, but then a frightening thought occurred to me:

“Dog…I know you don’t value our friendship as much as I do, but if you're sh1tting in my shoe, you’re about to have a very bad day.”

Luckily, the dog had decided to show a little class. I think he realized that if he shit in my shoe, that I’m the kind of person who would shit in his dinner bowl as payback. (yes, I sometimes wonder about my parenting skills also). Anyway, I took a picture of him so that you folks would get an idea of what I was up against. I put my hand near the dog so you get a sense of how small he was.



SEE!

Odds and Ends: Dave Barry and Verbal Judo

1. Verbal Judo

I met (and accidentally insulted) Dave Barry on my lunch break last week. He was doing a book signing near my office and since he's an author that people have actually heard of, I figured it would be nice to get a (signed) copy of his book. Recently I listened to a copy of one of his books on tape, that was narrated by this unfunny jackass. I intended to tell Dave (we're on a first name basis) that the guy's delivery was terrible, and that I prefer his books in writing because I can insert my own (funnier) delivery in my head. And if you're asking yourself why I listen to Books On Tape, it's not because I'm illiterate--just lazy.

The line to meet Dave was longer than you would see in most cities, because people in DC actually read books instead of using them as decorative props like they do in places like Los Angeles. As I got closer I heard the sycophants kissing up to Dave as he signed their tomes. "I just finsished [your book] and it's the funniest thing I EVER read." or "I can't believe you're here, Mr. Barry, I have all your books and I want to marry you and have all your babies" or "Dave, would you be interested in joining a multi-level marketing group...which isn't a pyramid scheme, I swear!"

I lost my train of thought as I got closer in line because I was mentally mocking the fans, then when I got to the front of line, instead of saying what I intended to say, I said

Ninja: "Hey man, I heard one of your books on Books on Tape, and it's not as funny out loud"

Fans: [gasping sounds]

Dave: I agree completely, they were never intended to be read out loud and I prefer them in written form too.

Wow, Dave Barry is a blackbelt in Verbal Judo. Rather than disagreeing with me, he used my own energy against me and executed a verbal hip throw. I think he should go into politics. I'd rather have him giving speeches and dealing with diplomats than "The Decider".

2. People who take Sports too Seriously Should Be Castrated

People who take sports too seriously are usually jackasses. Wait, let me re-phrase that. They are usually jackasses who have nothing going on in their lives. Like primitive cave people who wear animal skins and dance around a fire to absorb the raw power of the wolf or bear spirit, they put on their jerseys, paint their faces and grunt and howl in front of a TV as if they are absorbing some part of the team's victory and elevating their worth when the team wins.

Well, I'm constantly amazed at how passionately these idiots feel about "their" team. But THIS takes the cake. It seems that some guy walked into a bar frequented by Texas A&M fans wearing an Oklahoma U t-shirt. One of the Texas fans didn't take kindly to his shirt, so he, literally, ripped the guy's balls off. Now this story would be bad enough it was just two alumni fighting in a bar over their respective schools' teams. But neither of these redneck assh0les went to either school. That's right, they were both fans of colleges that neither of them attended. (why doesn't it surprise me that someone who would rip a guy's nuts off in a bar fight never attended an institution of higher learning?). Now, don't get me wrong. I think that people who take sports too seriously should be castrated, but I think this is taking it a bit too far.

3. Truth is Stranger than Fiction

You know, they say you shouldn't put something in an email that you would be embarrassed to see on the front page of the NY Times. This isn't exactly the Times, but still funny nonetheless. I don't know if I'm laughing harder at this guy because he told every lawyer in the state of Montana that his wife was having sex with another man, or because he sent every lawyer in the state an email and despite 12 years of public school, four years of college, and three years of law school, never figured out that you spell "rUmor" with a "u" and not with a phonetic "oo".

4. Leaving the Law

I often think about what I would do if I left the law completely. I'm always glad to read about people who jump ship to do something totally unrelated, like this guy who left the law to become an electrician. I don't think I would leave law to do home improvement full time because 1) manual labor sux, 2) I'm lazy, and 3) I like the money. But I'm happy for him nonetheless. I'll tell you who I'm not happy with is THIS guy. I'm happy he found something he likes better than the law, but his real passion isn't baking; it's marketing. Warren Brown sells overpriced, mediocre cakes and uses the excuse that his cakes shouldn't be judged against real bakers because he's not a real baker, just someone with a passion for baking. Well, if he was baking his own cakes, maybe I would buy into that. But if you've got 3 stores, and a TV show and you've got employees doing the baking for you, then maybe you should hire people who know that a cake should taste like it's main ingredient, not butter. And if you market yourself as selling "cakes like your mother made", well I got news for you Warren. My mom is a terrible cook, and if she ever baked me a Cayenne-Mango Chocolate cake with Buttercream frosting, I would say "Mom, firstable, how did you even know where the kitchen was, and secondly, what's that horrible burning smell?"

5. I'll have some more tales from Illinois soon, but pics are involved, so be patient.

On the Road Again: Part 2

Ahhhh, Bloomington! The Dallas/Fort Worth of Central Illinois, how could I not love thee? Apologies for the last drunken post. Very uncharacteristic of me--not the drunken part, but the posting while drunk part.

Moving on, I took the Amtrak up from St. Louis to here last night. Amtrak will never replace flying, but for short trips (Like DC to NYC) you can't beat it. Amtrak is like the attractive, gold-digging secretary who you have sex with once in a while, but who you will never leave your wife for. ("No, really, Tammi, I will tell my wife about us...soon. I mean, my kids are graduating from college in 8 years, so just be a little patient...now go try on that lingerie I bought you.")

I like midwesterners because they are genuinely nice people. Southerners are "fake nice", but if a midwesterner says something like "come back soon", they don't mean the exact opposite, like people in the south. I think that's why it's so surprising that most serial killers come from the midwest. And the attitude toward crime is really different too. When we went for dinner the other night in a St. Louis suburb with my old roommate, he literally didn't lock his front door. "what for, we're only gonna' be gone a couple of hours?"

Now, before I get some hate mail, let me say that I know a lot of nice southerners. And the food there can't be beat (except for grits, which I don't understand what the fuss is about). I mean, deep fried cheese versus something like a mississippi mud pie? That's like a fight between Woody Allen and Randy Coutoure. So while there are some really nice southerners in particular, the average midwesterner is nicer than the AVERAGE southerner.

That said, Central Illinois is a weird bird. The entire middle of the state is completely flat. You could build a hundred houses here and not use a level once. Besides being flat, every square inch is covered in corn to keep the evil spirits away. Corn = good mojo. I'm leaving for the wedding in a couple of hours, but just to show you how nice people are: when I asked about renting a car at the front desk, the clerk said "you don't need to rent a car, that's the church that Charley over there goes to, he can probably give you a ride." So I'm getting a ride with a really nice midwesterner who I just met in about an hour...who I hope is not a serial killer who will kill me and eat parts of me, and make a weird human suit out of my skin and dance around in front of the mirror with his bits tucked between his legs. Wish me luck!

Free Plug Fridays

For those of you who like Art (i.e. those of you who are part of civilization and eat with forks and knives instead of tearing strips of meat from the fire with your fingers), there is an Art Show Thingy ("The Art Romp 20") at the Warehouse in DC. It's from 6pm 'till whenever tonight. One of my friends is showing some Art there so you should definitely go. And I'm not saying that you should definitely buy something there, but if you do, it should be one of his pieces. I will be there, which is an endorsement in itself since I only go to look at good art.*

Also, don't forget the 2007 SAMBO Summit Training Camp in Staten Island, NY next weekend. Three full days of training with three top fight instructors for the bargain price of only $400. You can't beat that with a stick! Actually, you can't beat that with anything, because that's how tough SAMBO Combat Training is, bitchez!

*If you are an artist and I don't go see your stuff then, yes, that means you suck.

Odds and Ends

Having Monday off for Labor Day should allow me to loaf for 24 extra hours this weekend. DC is like a ghost town this weekend because all the sheep have left town in order to go to the beach and hang out with the same people that were trying to get away from. This is one of the times when it's fun to be a contrarian. Driving around this city, there are parking spots everywhere. You would think you died and went to parking heaven.

In order to catch you up on the events of the past couple of weeks:

House:
I made some progress on my house during the weekend that my brother was in town. I'll post some pics when I have some time. My house is starting to look surprisingly normal. I had a female visitor yesterday, and she didn't have that terrified "silence of the lambs" look when she used my bathroom. So that's a really good sign.


Blog Stuff and Blogging:
DCist and DC Blogs both linked to my piece about the my Mac vs. Coca Cola Classic episode last week. I think pretty soon the NY Times and the New Yorker will discover my irreverent observations about life and I can start wearing sunglasses to nightclubs and become a pretentious asshole like the people who drive in from Arlington to go to "edgy" clubs in DC.

I met undefeated Slap Boxing Champion and Award winning blogger Listen to Leon last week when he made the mistake of volunteering to be a guest bartender at the Common Share. When the mob of people at the bar started getting more impatient and was fashioning make-shift torches and pitchforks from the bar stools and something went wrong with the beers on tap, I think he realized why people who work in bars complain about it so much (well, besides the fact that they are usually whiney a-holes). Anywho, Leon was up for a Black Weblogs Award this year and I was gonna endorse him, mostly because his blog is funny, but also because I've never met the other people who are up for it. Unfortunately, my neighbors got wise to me "borrowing" their wiFi connection and I was too lazy to get to a coffee shop to endorse his candidacy until it was too late. If it makes him feel any better, I didn't vote in the past two presidential elections either.*

Politics:
1 - Corrupt flunkie Abu Gonzalez resigned this week so that he could "spend more time with his family" and find good places too hide while avoiding a subpoena and possible perjury charges. It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.

2 - Bathroom sex pervert and US Senator Larry Craig announced he will resign this week. He still claims that he isn't gay because whenever he had "gay" sex, he was thinking of his wife...and about going to church. And we all know that people who go to church aren't gay.

I also find his allegation that the only reason he was playing footsie with an undercover officer in the next toilet was because he "takes a wide stance" when dropping a deuce to be unconvincing. It just so happens that I crap at least once a day (sometimes several times a day if I've had Tex Mex or Ethiopian food). And Friday I conducted a scientific toilet experiment. As I dropped the kids off at the pool, I took the widest stance possible with my jeans around my ankles; wider than the stance you would take if you were constipated and needed the widest possible base to brace yourself for the extreme physical exertion of taking the biggest dump of your life. And unless you're not even wearing pants, it's not possible to touch the sides of the stall unintentionally, no matter how wide your stance is. Busted, Senator!

3- Second rate news hack and political spokesperson Tony Snow also announced he was leaving the White House (ditto for Karl Rove). This smells like rats leaving the sinking ship. Although the metaphor is kind of insulting to rats.

Family:
The visit from my family was not as bad as I'd imagined it would be (but only because in my imagination the visit ended in me running for my car under a hail of gunfire). It turns out that despite the feral children, we only almost got banned from one restaurant in DC. I've discovered a new mathematical law while they were here. The annoyingness of children increases exponentially by the number of children. So A = Q times C(nth power). So if one child displays Q annoyingness, then three kids exhibit Q x Q x Q annoyingness. As you can see, when you get to around 40 or 50 children, the annoyingness nears infinity and will actually alter the fabric of the space time continuum. I think that's how black holes are created, but I'm not a science dork or anything, so I can't be sure.


*Neither election was decided by exactly one vote, so don't get preachy on me.

Martial Arts Mondays: Part 1

I'm creating a new feature on my blog which may or may not be repeated. I saw something on YouTube that was so amazing that I would be remiss (whatever that means) if I didn't share it with you imaginary people on the internets. So I'm creating this feature just to share it with you.

Here is a video clip of the MMA Girls demonstrating one of my favorite moves (the side choke) from a full guard position.* They call it a head and arm choke, but I don't care what you call it. When two hot 22 year old, south african blondes with nice surgically unaltered breasts do it, I call it "awesome."




Anyway, I guess that Martial Arts Mondays should have some other stuff, so I will give out a free plug. For those of you who are into MMA, JuJitsu, or other types of grappling, the 2007 SAMBO Summit Training Camp is on Sept. 14 -16th in Staten Island NY. It's 3 days with 3 incredible SAMBO teachers for the bargain price of $400.

One of the guys teaching it is David Machin, who used to be my Sifu when I lived in NYC. He's the real deal. His Makiwara regimen is insane and his hands are like bricks.
This is a makiwara. The traditional way to use it is without the vinyl padding.










Anywho, for those of you who are unfamiliar with SAMBO,** it's the fighting system that the Soviets used to train their military and special forces. It's like Judo, except that instead of controlling your opponent without harming them, you control them by breaking their bones and choking them to death. It's very popular in UFC fights, and was the style used by UFC champion Oleg Taktarov.

If you have trouble imagining what I'm talking about, you can watch this video. Once again, to sum up, The 2007 SAMBO Summit Training Camp should not be missed. It will kick your training up to an 11.


*I usually don't discuss fighting on here, because it sounds like bragging, but I have used the side choke (from a standing position) in real fights and once choked somebody unconscious with it. But I've never seen it look as sexy as when these chicks do it.

**SAMBO is the abbreviation for the russian words whose translation are "Self defense without weapons."

Great Moments In Stupidity: Mac Attack

Friday morning I did one of the dumbest things I have done in a long time. I spilled some soda on my laptop. For those of you who don't know me:

1. Yes, sometimes I drink Coca Cola Classic in the morning--don't judge me, you're not the boss of me!
   
2. I am not the most careful person with electronics that you will ever meet. If machines ever become sentient, like in The Terminator, Terminator 2 Judgement Day, or Terminator 3 Rise of the Lame Sequels, when the machines take over they will put me on trial for war crimes. They will bring out the corpses of numerous computers, DVD players, VCRs, TVs and Stereos as evidence of my crimes against machines;
3. I was not looking at p0rn at the time it happened (this becomes important later in the story)

The screen turned blank--I panicked. I unplugged the computer, turned the laptop upside down to and ran to bathroom to grab the toilet paper roll off the wall holder and use it to dry off the keyboard.

When I got to the office, I looked on the internets for what to do when you spill something on a computer, and I found this amazing video. Wow. Unfortunately, according to the video, if you want your laptop to survive spilling liquids in it, you need to turn it off AND take the battery out. I had no way of knowing this since I couldn't check my internets from home. I figured my beloved Apple was dead, so I called the Apple place to find out what my options were. I figured since it was still under warranty, that I would be okay.

Ninja: Well, I accidentally, spilled a leeeeeetle tiny liquid on my MacBook, that's not bad is it?

Tech: Was it coffee? You might be in luck if it was coffee.

Ninja: No...it was Coke Classic. A wholesome, healthy drink that's made without exploiting third world coffee farmers.

Tech: Coke? That's bad. It's all syrupy and stuff. If you didn't take the battery out, you're motherboard is probably fried. That costs about $750 t0 fix.

Christ on a stick! $750 dollars? You know how much beer and p0rn I can buy for that?!? I can buy a new Macbook for $1000. And I'd rather eat an olive than pay $750 just to get my computer back to the way that it should be working. Even if they fixed it, I just paid $750 to get a used computer if you think about it. There had to be a better way.

Ninja: $750! Wow. Luckilly I'm still under warranty. Hehehee

Tech: No, that's not covered. It's considered physical abuse, which your warranty won't pay for.

Ninja: Physical abuse!!! Are you effing kidding me? That's not physical abuse! I didn't beat it with a wire hanger because it brought home a bad report card, I just spilled a little soda on it. And I didn't even do it on purpose!

Anyway, after going back and forth for a while, I decided I would bring it in to get it looked at. I was worried because I had loaded TurboTax and Quicken on my hardrive and that has a lot of personal information like my social security number, bank account numbers etc. So I wanted to make sure that they wouldn't be snooping around my programs and stealing my money.

Tech: No, we won't look in your harddrive, we're just interested in your logic board, not your p0rnography.

Ninja: P0rnography? I wasn't looking at p0rn man! I'm a Catholic, dude, and we don't look at stuff like that (as far as you know) because the Pope tells us not to because it makes the baby Jebus cry. I'm just worried about my personal info on TurboTax. There's no p0rn on my Macbook. None, do you here me! And even if there is, I swear I have no idea how it got there. Or maybe it was on there when I bought the computer. You can't prove it wasn't, man!!

Well, after letting my compy dry for a day and a half I put the battery back in and so far so good. The Mac Chord sounded a little funny, but other than that no other bad symptoms. I'm actually typing on it now.

Thank the baby Jebus that my MacBook is okay. I don't think I could live without my laptop. I mean, how long can a human being go without being able to use his TurboTax?