Wednesday, November 28, 2007
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...
Friday, November 23, 2007
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...
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
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.
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.
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.
TBK: Guess what? My wife is pregnant again!
HIN: That's awesome...are you the father this time?
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!!!
Sunday, November 18, 2007
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.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
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?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.
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!!!
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?
Friday, November 09, 2007
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!!!)
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
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:
- 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;
- The people I've told this story to think it's funny; and
- it happened in my driveway, and involved a crackhead.
- 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.
- 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).
- 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).
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.
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.
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.