Blog Thoughts...the spinoff

I've been thinking about starting another blog. Not like the stock picking blog, which nobody reads, but a secret blog that nobody reads. I was talking to my sister the other day and it turns out she found out about my cyber outlet for life's frustrations. At first I tried to deny it.

Sis: [cousin] told me about your blog. It's hysterical.

Me: I don't know what you're talking about...I don't have a blog...Maybe you're imagining it...

Sis: No I'm not, I'm looking at it right now.

Me: Maybe it's someone else's blog.

Sis: Then why are there pictures of me on there?

Me: Maybe it's a stalker? You should probably lock your windows.

I don't like the idea of family reading my blog for several reasons. If I say something bad about someone (usually my brother) it might eventually get back to him and he'll want to discuss it with me. My brother isn't big on verbal communication and words usually just make him confused and angry, so historically our "dicussions" have been fist fights. Well..."fight" might be a stretch since most of my childhood is riddled with memories of me minding my own business and him attacking me mercilessly because cable TV hadn't been invented yet and you get bored of 3 channels after a while.

Additionally, the more people that know about my blog, the less I can make fun of them. Case in point:

Sis: Why did you say I was a terrible cook?

Me: Because it's true...

Sis: NO IT'S NOT!!!

Me: Look it's nothing to be ashamed of. We can't all be good at everything. For instance, Mom is a terrible cook but she excels at raising dysfunctional children. And you are a terrible cook, but you're really good at making good looking babies. We play the hand we get.

Anyway, I'm probably just venting. Having two blogs is probably like trying to make love to two women at the same time. It sounds good in theory, but one of them will end up getting all your attention and the other one will end up jealous and you will end up with a veneral disease and blame yourself because of the residual catholic guilt.

Irony, thy name is Spitzer

What's happening to Elliot Spitzer is ironic. He prosecuted money launderers and prostitution rings, and he gets caught because of suspicious bank transfers which leads authorities to his whore mongering. To make matters worse, Spitzer signed a law that increased the penalty for sleeping with hookers from 3 months, to one year in prison.

Unlike Alanis Morissette, I can use the word ironic in a sentence. She wrote a whole song about irony, but the only thing ironic about it was that nothing in the song was ironic. Anyway, Alanis, if you are reading this, irony is what is happenning to Elliot Spitzer. If you are facing jail time for violating a law that you created...that's ironic.

UPDATE: HERE'S SOME NEW YOU TUBE VIDEOs ABOUT HYPOCRITE ELLIOT SPITZER

Accordian Music Mashup sung to "Love Client Number 9"



The Odd Couple: Elliot Spitzer and Jim McGreevey.

Geeks pour one out for their homie

I saw on the news that Gary Gygax died yesterday. If you don't know who that is, it's probably because you were getting laid in high school. Gary Gygax is the guy who created Dungeons and Dragons. You see, before the internets were created, there was no such thing as World of Warcraft and movies like Harry Potter. Special effects were so rudimetary that film studios had to rely on cheap gimmicks like plots, story lines and full frontal nudity in order to get you to buy tickets to their movies. If you had nothing to do on a Saturday night and wanted to pretend that you were some wizard or warrior, instead of jumping on your computer you had to use your imagination (and some Dungeons and Dragons Rulebooks). I can't stress how big the death of Gygax is to geeks. It's like their Gandhi died.

I stopped playing Dungeons and Dragons when I was a sophomore in High School (right around the time I saw my first vagina). But I was surprised to read that Gygax still played Dungeons and Dragons weekly until his death. I guess some people have things that they never grow out of.



Speaking of things you never grow out of. I discovered Anime when I was 7 years old. I used to rush home from school to watch StarBlazers (and so that my brother wouldn't kick my ass in the school yard). My friend who works in the Japanese Embassy invited me to a private reception tonight with sushi and lots of japanese art, including Anime. There will even be some stuff by Takashi Murakami and Shigero Mizuki. Eat your heart out Geeks!

Almost famous

A nice article about the opening of Target tomorrow in my ghetto...errr, neighborhood. On saturday, I was interviewed by Channel 9 news about the development by the metro, and I was on TV at 6 and 11. I told a few people I know about it, but I didn't tape it with my old school TiVo (i.e. my VCR) because, honestly, I only have a couple of VCR tapes (I'm not a caveman, afterall), and I didn't want to tape over the UFC fights that I hadn't watched yet.

It was a weird experience. I was out walking the world's coolest dog and listening to my iPod when this heavy set guy with a giant smile comes up and starts asking me questions about the Target store. The first thing I thought was "I'm not gay, and even if I was, I am SO out of your league that it's not even funny, slim." After a couple of questions, he said "can you say the same thing on camera?" and motioned for the camera guy to come over. Then he asked me the same questions, and I gave the same responses, word for word, while my dog sniffed the camera guy's leg and crotch area.

After the question and answer session, they petted my dog (everyone pets my dog because he's so cool) and I went on about my business. Being on TV doesn't phase me in the least. I'll just add it to my screen credits: I was also on Jim Cramer's Mad Money last year, but I didn't bother to tape that either. And I was an extra on a Chris Rock Movie, Head of State (the worst job I've EVER had) and was inadvertently in Sabrina the Teenage Witch Goes to Rome (long story).


And because I never get tired of posting pics of Benny, here he is again.

You can call me "McLovin".

Suck It Bernake

This is why people need to vote for Ron Paul. Do you think any of the empty suits (McCain, Clinton, Obama) could lift Dr. Ron Paul's intellectual jockstrap? I didn't think so.

As a homeowner who has a great deal of my net worth tied up in a house whose value could decline as the result of idiotic actions by Bernake and his predecessor, the moron who shall remain Greenspan, I'm glad that someone like Ron Paul is talking sense and that (young) people are listening and voting for him.



And here is some good stuff on the War. Give em hell, Ron!

I'm going to nominate him for Honorary Ninjahood.

Future Ninja?

The kid's got skillz, yo!

On Target?

I am hungover today, but I received some good news today (and no, it's not that Hillary Clinton has Syphilis).


When I first bought the impenetrable ninja fortress, "they" said that a Target store was under construction and would be open "soon". Well...it's been three years and finally I can go get some slightly-better-than-walmart stuff without having to drive to Virginia for it. Oh yes, now high-ish thread count sheets and faux leather ottomans will be within walking distance of me. It will feel like I died and went to hausfrau heaven. Plus, I have some halogen bulbs that I bought at the Virginia Target 2 years ago that I need to return that I have been too laz, errr, busy to take to the other Target. It's like the planets are coming into alignment. The store is set to open in less than 2 weeks. I have seen then advertising job openings, and I thought about going in and pretending to fill out an application so that I could find out when they were opening, but luckilly, the internets saved me the trouble. March 9...sweeeeeet.



I figure that once the Target, Best Buy, and other retailers in that development by the metro are complete, it will make my ghetto more desirable, which will help me sell my sh1thole...err, fortress, to some yuppies for enough money to keep me in drugs and whores for a good long time. If I have any money left over after that, I'll even get a new car...or more drugs and whores.



When I first moved into my ghetto, the only place where you could buy stuff where the cashier wasn't behind bulletproof glass, was the Giant supermarket. Then a bar opened up...a yuppie food place...even a Ruby Tuesdays. Now the yuppie circle is complete.

I remember once hearing a hipster lament that soon my ghetto would look like Bethesda if someone didn't stop these greedy develepors. Rather than punch that soap-dodging hippie in his face, I just smiled and thought about what my house would be worth it it was in Bethesda.





One meeelyun dollars!















Anyway, in other news, I'm filling out an application for a home equity line of credit so that I can get central air conditioning installed. Selling a house to yuppies in DC without central air, is like trying to sell a car with no wheels to a Nigerian. I have no idea what that means, but you get the point.

Also...my dog peed on my rug today because I was too hung over to walk him last night. I heard him crying and scratching at the front door last night, and I yelled at him to "shut the fvck up and go already!" I was hoping that he would come upstairs and use the toilet, but whatevs.

At least it's not syphillis

Sometimes when someone says something, you hear something completely different. I'm not talking about some kind of Freudian thing where you misheard something, like if a cute girl says "wait a sec" and you hear "wait for sex", but the other kind of thing where you hear the words, but the message is something different, like if a cute girl says "hi" and you hear "I want to marry you and have all your babies...take me now".

The other day I was talking to someone who occassionally reads my blog. I think everyone should read my blog all the time, but I don't blame people if they only occassionally come to their senses and need to read fine literature on the internet. I mean, if people read my site everyday, what would the NY Times do for money?

Anyway, I was at an art show where a friend of mine was painting while a grunge band played bad music in the background. It's not really as weird as it sounds (well, maybe it is, but let's pretend for a second that it's not). This guy bought a house and has had even worse luck than me (no really). Termites...wood rot...famine...plagues...locusts. Whenever you hear stories like that or the stuff on this site, it makes me feel a little better because I think that things could be worse and luckily they aren't. Like if you fall and break your leg and you think your life sux, and while you are waiting in the emergency room, the ambulance brings in a guy with a broken leg...and syphillis. And you think "wow...at least it's not syphillis. I can handle a broken leg, but not a broken leg and syphillis". And that's sort of how I feel about the house. I can handle the bad plaster, leaky pipes (hey, I'm getting better at plumbing, so get off my back) but at least there are no termites. Things are stressfull, but at least it's not stress from something that I really can't handle.

Anyway, we were talking about my new countertops that were going to be installed in a few days. He mentioned that as long as the cabinets underneath were really, really level, that there's probably nothing to worry about. Rather than finding that comforting, I found it terrifying. You see...I leveled the cabinets myself. And even though he said "if the cabinets are level, there's nothing to worry about", the implied message I heard was "if the countertops are messed up, it's all your fault."

The countertops went in without a hitch. This weekend I connected the diswasher and tried to connect the plumbing underneath the sink (More pics to come). It's a double bowl sink and after several trips to home depot for parts, I managed to get everything connected underneath. One side is working perfectly, but the other side is leaking...a lot. Oh well...at least it's not syphillis.

Obligatory Valentine's Post

I am still sick, so I don't feel like doing a real post, so I have used my ninja time machine to bring you a love letter that I will write to my future wife at some time in the future.

______________________________

Dearest Future Wife who agreed to marry me without a pre-nup even though you have way more money than me:

Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of years ago, my love, on February 14th St. Valentine was beaten to death with clubs and beheaded. To commemorate the occasion I have purchased for you a pair of red crotchless under-bloomers that I would like you to wear in the spirit of this event. I have also purchased for you a dozen of the reddest roses I could find. Yes, I know my love, there is no need for words. I care for you so much that, at my behest, I have had ordered a living plant-creature to be killed for you and I offer you its severed genitals as a token of my love. Although counter-intuitive, the severed genitals are not a veiled threat to ensure your fidelity, but rather a declaration of affection. I can think of no greater way to show you my love, dearest, except to offer you severed plant-creature genitals and then to do passionate sex to you involving sundry positions. Because it's a special occasion, we can even do that subversive woman-on-top position that you like.

Oh my darling, I have traced every inch of you with my hands, my fingers, my palms. I could sculpt you from memory, my love. Every inch of you. I know what you are thinking right now, beloved. You are thinking that watching Rock of Love 2 is futile since Brett Michaels can never fall in love with anyone since he is already in love with himself. But also you are thinking that if you died tomorrow in some kind of freakish accident--of the type that sometimes befalls people who are too much in love--that being able to sculpt an anatomically correct replica of you would be a useful skill to have.

But know this, my darling, I would not do sex to the lump of clay. Even though sometimes you lay there like a lump of clay, my love, the lump of clay is not you and it would therefore be like cheating, or at the very least be squicky, even though it is you--sort of.

No lump of clay, blow-up doll, or even an almost-high-priced call girl could ever replace you, dearest. When I put my mouth on your sex and move my tongue in a left-right-up-down-squiggle-squiggle fashion and variations of such a combination, I know that no other could possibly fake a climax like you do, oh sweetest.

Therefore, I hope that you will enjoy this Valentines day that I have planned for you and that we will remain together forever, or at least until such time as I can appear on my own fox reality TV show involving many attractive desperate women who will shamelessly compete for my affections and air time. After such brief hiatus I will return to loving you devotedly and exclusively.

Happy Valentines Day, Darling!!!

The Zen of Nyquill and the Art of Ukemi

I fell twice yesterday. Twice. I know the weatherman (or woman) warned me about icy rain, but I still needed to get out of the house for frivolities like food. The first fall was on the steps of the ninja fortress. The wrought iron steps were covered in an invisible (and deadly) sheet of ice. I didn't see it until it was too late. Mad skillz, mother nature! Mad skillz, yo! I wish I could say that my cat-like reflexes allowed me to recover in time, but that (like the justification for invading Iraq) would be a lie.




When I first learned judo a long time ago from this guy, I was told that the secret to not getting injured when you hit the ground really hard is to keep your body relaxed. Don't worry about hitting the ground, just focus on the sensation of falling. Live in the moment. Toddlers fall all the time and don't get hurt, and the reason (supposedly) is that they are relaxed and supple and therefore don't get injured (it could also be that they are only a foot off the ground, but whatevs). Maybe that's why I didn't break anything either time that i fell. I was calm and relaxed. It wasn't a zen thing, it's just that I was so high on Nyquill that I didn't even know what day it was, and I didn't even realize I had fallen until it was too late. My arm, shoulder, back and butt hurts today, but at least nothing is broken except my spirit. Nothing is wounded except my inner child.


So maybe that's a metaphor for life also...that the best way to live it is in a calm, relaxed state that is focussed on being in the moment and unattached from the outcome...and high on Nyquill.

sicko...

Still really, really sick. I took off from work today to wallow in self pity and get high on Nyquill. Even though I'm still stick, I can't sit home and watch TV all day like some housewife who married up, then quit trying to impress her husband.

This dog still needs to be walked otherwise he will poop on my floors. And even though I don't want to be bothered right now, it still wants to be up in my grill and demands to be petted and receive constant affection. It's like some really needy co-dependent girlfriend, except that there is no sex, so maybe it's more like a wife?

Anyway, I think yesterday I was the sickest that I've ever been...ever. If you would've come by the fortress and offered to put a bullet in me to put me out of my misery, I probably would've considered it. Of course, ultimately, my dog would've attacked you when you least expected it (his ninja training is progressing nicely) and decapitated you and laid your head at my feet as gratitude for my helping his escape certain death from a high-kill rural shelter.

Now, when I was a kid, I loved X-men comic books (who didn't, right), and my favorite character was Wolverine. Everyone wanted to be Wolverine because of his claws and adamantium skeleton. Wolverine, however, also had mutant healing powers. And when you're a kid, you think "so what?...in terms of superpowers, having claws and a metal skeleton is way cooler than healing powers." Well, if you thought that, then you never had the flu that I got.







I didn't have a thermometer, but based on my pain threshold, I think it was around 200 degrees celsius. Plus, I had sore throat, achy bones, and all kinds of phlegm that were colors that I didn't even recognize. If I had a canvas in the house I would've made you people a Jackson Pollock.


Anyway, my "point" , which I just realized I had, is that sometimes you underestimate a good, but not flashy mutant power, in favor of some other mutant power (like flying), but when you really need it, you learn to appreciate something like mutant healing.


Actually, I lied...I'm still feverish and I don't think I really had a point, but what mutant power would you like to have that doesn't seem so cool at first glance?

Ron Paul Girl and Obama Girl

I don't feel like being witty today because I am sick. Not sick as in "mentally off balance" which goes without saying, but sick sick. I don't usually get sick, so the fact that I have a slight temparature probably means that it's some type of super virus like the ebola or something. Not to worry, my superhuman immune system has contained the virus and will destroy it shortly, thus saving the world again. You owe me a beer, internets.

In the meantime, enjoy this youtubey goodness. GO RON PAUL!!!

The End of the MacGuyver Kitchen

I don't want to drag this post out anymore. If I teased this post anymore, I'd be able to get a job doing 80s hair in Brooklyn (or 2008 hair in Texas). I finally uploaded some pics of the kitchen that I finally installed the countertops in. BEHOLD BITCHEZ!


This is part of the wall that I opened up to make the kitchen more open. I added these brackets to turn it into a bar area (as if I needed more encouragement to drink). I don't know why everyone wants bars in their kitchens, but as long as some yuppie is willing to pay for it, I'll build it and laugh about it when I sell my place and spend that breakfast bar money on drugs and whores...errr, I mean on like, giving it away to like charities for like for blind kids or lepers or something.

Now this little knee wall was kinda wobbly, so....






When I added supports on the wall for where the countertop would go over the dishwasher, I added some extra bracing across it to keep the wall from moving.

On this part I got to use my new framing nailer a bit, which was really cool. I haven't used it since the first week I got it when I injured myself during a scientific experiment to see what kind of cool things I could shoot nails into. (Don't give me a powertool with safety glasses if you don't want me to do dangerous things with it...jus' sayin').



Here is the kitchen in progress. Yes, I know the picture is sideways...get off my back, chief!













So this is what it looks like with the doors on it, plus I cut the side pieces to match the doors in the front, which was harder than it looks because I had to buy a special blade for my table saw (fine tooth) and call in a favor from a friend to help me install it for free. It's not hard to install those side pieces, but it is a two person job if you want it to be straight and level.







Here is the side of the kitchen that is opposite from the sink.
















View from the breakfast bar












view from the kitchen sink before the holes for the faucet were cut, or the sink was installed.














Here you can see the hole on the bottom of the cabinet for the hoses from the dishwasher.












This is the finished look. That faucet and sink don't have plumbing hooked up yet, but it looks like it does, which is all that matters. Perception is reality.









And since you asked for it, here is a pic of Benny my foster dog doing what he does most of the day: sitting on the couch and staring at me while silently passing judgment on me.

By the way, that painting above the sofa was recently featured in the Style section of the Washington Post. Does that make me an art collector?

The Fried Chicken Eating Nomads

I'm learning a lot about human behavior from walking my foster dog. Like, for instance, there are people who walk around my neighborhood eating fried chicken and throwing the bones along the sidewalk. I have never actually seen these people, but I know they exist because I have seen the bones everywhere.

Eating chicken bones is very bad for dogs, so either there are lots of these people walking around everywhere in my neighborhood eating chicken and throwing bones everywhere, or there are people who hate dogs, hiding fried chicken bones in the grass in order to harm dogs. Since people who hate dogs are worse then Hitler, I don't know what to make of it. Luckily my dog is not "food aggressive" like other dogs. Some dogs growl and bite when you go near their food bowl, but my dog allows me to open his mouth and take the chicken bones out of his mouth without biting me. He just gives me the "oh no you didn't" look.

Now, what I find more disturbing than someone who is worse than Hitler, is the fact that my dog may not respect me as pack leader. As part of my responsibilities in being a good foster parent, I sat and watched several episodes of the Dog Whisperer with my new dog. I want him to understand the concept of the pack leader/alpha dog (me) and the pack follower/bitch (him). What I learned from the show is that the pack leader eats first, then the other dogs can eat when the pack leader says so. This is why when a dog kills a squirrel or a rhinocerous, he will bring it to you and lay it at your feet. As pack leader, you are supposed to eat first and give him what's left over. It's a sign of respect. You are Don Corleone, and he is Fredo. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't want to eat old chicken bones that have been sitting in the gutter, but as the pack leader, he should at least offer me some first, then try to eat. I took his eating of the chicken bones as a a sign of defiance of my authority as pack leader. Like when Tattaglia tried to kill Don Corleone, in Godfather I.

If I'm on a first date, I always pay for dinner, but I expect the girl to at least pretend to reach for her purse so that I can say "I got it" and she can pretend like she was willing to pay and that I am a gentleman. So the dog should pretend to offer me some old chicken bones before digging in (because I am pack leader) and I can so "no...the pack leader doesn't want chicken bones from the gutter, but you may have some because you have been a good pack follower/loyal bitch."

I have tried other things to assert alpha dog/pack leadership over him, like (1) keeping him on a short leash so that he doesn't walk ahead of me; (2) doing the occasional alpha roll; (3) humping the dog's leg so that he knows he's my bitch. The last one gets me funny looks from people at the dog park, but I don't really care what they think because they are not my pack members. There are only two members in my pack, and if I'm the one paying the mortgage and buying the dog food, then excuuuuuuuuse me for wanting to be in charge for a while.

I think the reason that he doesn't respect me as pack leader is because of the poop thing. Just when I think he is starting to RESPECT MA' AUTHOR-I-TAY he poops, and then watches me while I pick up the poop using nothing but a poop bag and my bare hands. I wouldn't respect a person who stood there and picked up my poop with his hands while I silently judged him and mocked him in my head. (Yes, I know it's judging me and secretly mocking me...if it could talk, I'm sure if it would make fun of me to its doggy friends).

Now, a friend of mine thinks I am taking the whole pack leader thing too far. She thinks that you can train a dog using love and positive reinforcement instead of using calm assertive leadership and humping its leg. I think dogs are like bowels and they view people like sphincters, and if you show weakness, they will sh1t all over you. And I am not one to be sh1t upon. I'll give her the benefit of the doubt and assume that it is possible to train a dog using positive reinforcement and love, but if it's all the same to you, I'll keep humping its leg.

It's raining Cats...and a Dog

I hate this weather more than a college socialist hates a bar of soap. Although the heat seems to be working fine at the ninja fortress, I am always not-so secretly worried that it will start leaking all over the place, I will be stuck without heat and they will find my lifeless frozen body wrapped in the infamous sweater, that while toe-ing the line between european metrosexuality and gayness, is remarkably warm. Then the coronors will come and while i'm in a body bag they will go through my p0rn collection and steal the good stuff. I don't care about most of it, but I would like to be buried with the Brianna Banks one, so although it's not in my will, if any of you are at my funeral, make sure no one takes it out of my coffin when they are pretending to mourn my passing. Anyway, part of the reason...well, actually most or the reason I worry about the heating system is that I did the plumbing work on them. I think I'm okay at soldering pipes now, but I definitely learned by trial and error (and error and error) and I worry that some of those early experiments will come back to haunt me like Frankenstein's monster.



The weather is really getting on my nerves because I started fostering a rescue dog and part of that means getting up every morning at 5:30 am to walk him. This is not fun under the best circumstances, but it reaaaaaaally sux when it's 15 degrees out, like last week, or when it's raining like today. And when dogs get wet they shake themselves dry, but they usually wait until they get inside to do it....nice. On my hardwood floors. Mutherflower!!!


He's a good dog and if I take him for a short run in the moring (I can't do a long run unless it's in a dream sequence involving zombies) he naps for several hours, but if I don't take him for a long run, he's got a lot of pent up energy and I've got nice stuff that I don't want him taking his frustrations out on, so jogging it is.


I'm still adjusting to this giant rat that I saved from certain death, but I'll post more about that soon. Right now, I'm drinking tea (no, I'm not British) because the girl in our office who makes coffee is out sick today so it's either walk a half block to Starbux or drink this urine colored grass water. I don't know how sick she is, but she better have a broken leg or a failed kidney because I need my coffee and tea is for old ladies. That's right, lady, I don't care about your "flu" because it's all about me, me, me!!! And my dog...

Pensive

Everytime another birthday rolls around, I get pensive. I was watching that new Scott Baio show on VH1 the other day. For those of you that don't know, Scott Baio had a "reality" show last season on Vh1 called "Scott Baio is 45 and still single". This season he is married and has a new show called "Scott Baio is 46 and still a douchebag". Actually, that's not the title, but it should be. Unlike most really rich guys, Scott is not some fat, bald investment banker working 80 hour weeks in order to get enough money to buy a trophy wife that doesn't have an eastern european accent. He made a lot of money off bad TV shows and is still young enough to enjoy it (not to mention that he has a full head of hair and lacks a spare tire around his midsection). On his way to being 46, he had sex a veritable who's who in hollywood hotties (Pam Anderson, Nicole Eggert, and numerous Playboy Playmates). Anyone who lived Scott Baio's life could be hit by a car and die a happy man, but all Scott does is complain and whine all day...you know what he does when he's not complaining? Neither do I, because he does it all the time. He's the Italian Woody Allen. Well, he whines like Woody Allen, only it's not funny when Scott does it, it's pathetic.

At any rate, one of the things I think about occasionally is settling down and getting married. Although I am the world's coolest uncle, I wonder what would happen if I don't settle down. In time, will I become an annoying whine-bag like Scott Baio, or this guy?

I think I'm in a better position (financially, emotionally and physically) than I was last year, but if you told me 10 years ago that I would be living in Washington, working for the government and spending my free time obsessing about countertops, I wouldn't have believed it. I have always been a libertarian, so if you told me 10 years ago (or yesterday) that I would be working for the government and enjoying it, that would be like telling a virgin in a convent that in a few years she will be working in a whorehouse and loving every minute of it.

For a second there I thought I was digressing, but digression implies that I even had a destination to begin with.

Anyway, I think (objectively) my life is okay right now. I have a house that is looking better, I have activities that I enjoy like meditation, salsa dancing, going to art museums and choking people. But I think I can do better. And as part of my introspection I have come up with interesting ideas about what direction my life will take in the next year.

I have a couple of nice trips planned and I've been getting calls from headhunters lately about job openings (some in DC, some in other cities), so I will be thinking long and hard (hehehehe "long and hard"!) about what to..."long and hard"...hahahha.

Where was I, oh yeah, Scott Baio is a douchebag.

Free Plug Fridays: Canine Edition

Even Hitler liked dogs...FACT!

So if you don't like dogs, then you are worse than Hitler...CONCLUSION!

Therefore, if you don't want to turn into some twisted hateful genocidal mutant with only one testicle, then you should consider owning a dog. Some of you might be wondering, what my point is. Or do I ever really have one?

I guess my point is that this Sunday, you can go to a dog adoption thing and get a dog, so that you don't end up like Hitler (married to a fat chick, living in a basement and waiting for the russians to close in on you).

Anyway, the adoption thing is in Arlington, VA from 12-2pm. It's at

PetMAC Arlington
822 N. Kenmore St.Arlington, VA 22201
(www.petmac.org)
703-908-PETS

Yes, I will be there because I have two testicles and I hate genocide. I am still undecided about what dog to get (if any). See you there! Or maybe I won't...you nazi!

Suck-i-tude

Okay, I suck at blogging lately. I know some of you are thinking "lately? when were you ever good at it? Or anything else for that matter?" And to that I say "Mom, I told you to stop reading my blog."

In between being busy at work, and with fun stuff, I also managed to get some stuff done at the house. So, although I'm not a new year's resolution kind of guy, I am a no-unfinished business kind of guy. So over the next few posts I am going to clean up some loose ends around here.

1. I'll finish up the Adventures in Law episodes where I talk about legal jobs that I've had. We have one more episode with Carl/Chris and the girls who crush on him, then we'll get to some really weird (but really true) stories of life at an actual law firm with psychotic bosses, incompetent support staff and one really handsome new associate who would eventually become a blogger that everyone knows and loves. And no, this story has nothing to do with Pink is the New Blog;
2. I'll throw in a couple of holiday stories with my wacky family (hey, you people are cheaper than a therapist);
3. I'll tell you about a good deed that I did which almost got me mauled by a rottweiler (I am really starting to hate my neighborhood);
4. and...I'll post some pics of my new kitchen countertops.

I tend to think of my house as some kind of metaphor for my life (in the Japanese "Kaizen" sense of continual improvement), but when I saw the countertop installed and I realized that the sink and dishwasher were in place, but weren't hooked up, that it really was a metaphor. It looks right, but it's not working. Just for show. It looks good from the outside, but upon closer inspection is completely dysfunctional (for now). Wow.

Also, we have an important dog-related announcement to make...with pics. Stay tuned.

Free Plug Fridays: Art Edition

Once again I will save you the trouble of thinking for yourself and give you a few Ninja-Approved Activities to pass the time. Because I'm all classy and shit, this week we will reviewing some artistic activities.

I. ART SHOW

One of my artist friends is having a big solo show in Alexandria, VA next Friday (January 18th) at the ArtWhino Gallery. You can see a poster for it below.

ArtWhino is a great new gallery that specializes in emerging artists. Unlike most of the other galleries in DC, they don't suck. They give talented newer artists a chance to display their work and get noticed. Sort of like Warehouse Gallery did in DC (before they got crushed by the twin headed monster of property taxes and gentrification).

As you can see from the flyer, it's got art, live music, booze, and cool people, so there's so much going for it that you should definitely go. It's more fun than watching midget wrestling, which is probably what you'd be doing that weekend if you didn't come.

If you are a guy, bring your girlfriend. If she's busy, then bring someone else's girlfriend. If you are a girl...wellllll, hellllloooo there :)

See you there. Email me if you have any questions.




II. Japanese Art Exhibit

Also in our free art stuff section. There is a great exhibit going on at the Sackler Gallery. It's a showing of Edo Period Japanese art. You can't get more ninja than that. The good thing is that the exhibit is so large that they are rotating the exhibits every couple of weeks, so you can go again and each time the place will be different. Like one of those choose-your-own-ending books, except that it's with pictures instead of words, and everyone is japanese. But you get the point, right?

III. Ninja Approved Artists

Because good things come in threes, and I can't think of something else to write about, I'll endorse a few artists now.

Joroko: very edgy anti-establishment artist. I have a couple of his pieces. One of them got me laid by a funky art girl with tattoos.

Davo: A cool cat that I met in Maui. I'm not a fan of Peter Max, but when you see Davo's work, you will see what pop art should look like. The painting I got from him is one of my favorite two paintings in the ninja collection.

J.Coleman: He's got the show at ArtWhino. You can see more of his work on his website.

Matt Sesow: Edgy DC artist. I'm going to his next open studio. I've been thinking about buying one of his pieces for a while and I saw a few new ones on his site that I liked.

Actual Home Improvement Stuff

One of the many things I am reluctant to do without guilt (because I'm catholic and feel guilt about everything) is to let other people work on the ninja fortress. It's partly because the first contractor I hired screwed up a lot of things and I ended up having to re-do them; which meant that I had to do it myself, and pay for someone else to do it which gave me the worst of both worlds. But it's also because on some level it feels like accepting failure; like admitting there is something in the world which I am not good at. I don't like to admit that. I'm a talented lawyer*, an exceptional salsa dancer, a skilled martial artist, a good writer, and I'm even reasonably good at pleasuring a woman.** How can I admit that there is something I can't fix with my powerful arms and manly home improvement tools? It's like admitting that you were born without testicles (which is okay if you're a girl, but not so okay if you are a man). Still, there is so much that needs to be done that not hiring people for some of it would be crazy and would make the renovations drag on forever. As it is, it already feels like forever. Renovating my fortress is starting to feel like watching The English Patient on endless loop for a week or making love with Rosie O'Donnell for an hour. Will it never end?

Anyways...I said I would post some home improvement stuff again, so I will. I got a couple of quotes for installing the kitchen countertop and I decided to go with someone that was recommended by a friend of a friend. After getting different samples and a couple of bids from different people, weighing the options, considering all the pros and cons, and looking at my astrology chart, I decided to go with the cheapest option and will cover my new cabinets in plywood...ok, I'm kidding about that. I decided to go with this Zodiac stuff, which looks just like granite, except that it doesn't have to be re-sealed every year and, unlike Mitt Romney's magic underwear, it doesn't stain. It's the same price as granite and it looks nice I think. Since I have black appliances, hardwood floors and darkish cabinets, a friend suggested Toasted Almond, which looks great, but with the size of my kitchen would be expensive. It turns out that the manufactured stone is sold by the slab so if you need just a leeeeeetle more than one slab, they have to charge you for two, which raises the price an extra $900. It seemed kinda silly to pay more for artificial stone than the real thing since buyers always think the stuff created in a lab isn't as good as the stuff created by nature (no one pays extra for a cubic zirconium ring). But in talking with the guy, he said he had a piece left over from a prior job and if I went with that color, he would only have to order one slab, so I can get it for the same price as the granite. Score! FYI, it's Minera Pearl, which looks the same, except with more black flecks in it, which actually makes it match better I think. I don't have ovaries so I'm not good at matching, but that's my opinion, for what it's worth. Anyway, I'll fax back the estimate today and I'll be sure to take some before/after pics of the cabinets (and my bank statement) so that you imaginary people can feel like you were watching the whole thing as it happened...like some kind of creepy celebrity obsessed stalker. Wish me luck.



*At least four of my clients from my law firm days are in federal prison now, but that is mostly due to their bad character, not my lawyering...well, that's my story and I'm sticking with it.
**I don't mean any particular woman, just women in general.

SUV Attacks on Homes Resume.

It's been a while since I mentioned SUV attacks against homes. I previously discussed the topic HERE, HERE, and HERE. Because it's been months since I mention it, you might think that a Kamikaze attack on someone's home was a fad like Disco or the internet, but sadly the lack of recent attacks was just an attempt to lull people into complacency in order to launch further surprise attacks. See the latest article HERE again.

As many of you know, I've been debating whether or not to adopt a dog recently. Although some people (incorrectly) assume small dogs are gay, I am still committed to adopting some kind of small (but still hetero) dog like a combat Beagle, or possibly an attack Dachshund. These kamikaze attacks give me pause, however. I am sure that with the proper training in Northern Eagle Claw Kung Fu, (which I studied for almost an entire year when I was 15 years old) a dog of any size could repell any unarmed invader, and most armed invaders. I could leave for work everyday and the Fortress would be in safe hands...errr, paws. Still, I worry about whether a small unarmed dog, with no opposable thumbs will be able to resist an attack by armoured assault vehicles.

My neighbor drinks quite a bit and he's got a pretty big truck. It's not outfitted with .50 caliber machine guns, like my Ninja Lite-Armoured Assault Vehicle (NLAAV), but it could probably kill an unarmed Combat Beagle if it caught the mutt by surprise (like when the dog is raiding my fridge or licking himself).

Maybe I can teach the dog to drive and he can go all Mad Max on the neighborhood?

Ketchup post

Well, spending Christmas with the New York relatives isn't nearly as traumatic as spending Christmas with the Florida relatives, but I guess it all depends on how you look at it. You could just as easily say that Dante's third circle of hell isn't as traumatic as the 8th circle of hell. But still, if you had a choice between Christmas with my family and doing something more enjoyable (like laundry, or being date raped at a fraternity party) you would probably never get to hang out with my family and get some insight on how I learned to laugh at everything (while crying on the inside of course).

Spending time around my nieces and nephews is always an interesting experience. If you asked me before Christmas if I ever wanted kids, I would've said "yes...someday." But after a few days with the feral children, if you ask me the same question, my reply would probably be "no...I want a vasectomy...right now."

I'm back in DC now. New Year's Eve was enjoyable. I spent it in a hipster neighborhood in DC doing some of my favorite things : hanging out with friends, listening to live music, and salsa dancing. I later found out that I was a few doors down from another blogger, but I had no idea that she was nearby. She is an excellent stalker, it turns out.

I have read your comments on the previous posts, and instead of ignoring them, I will take them to heart and endeavor to try to bring more actual home improvement type posts in the near year.

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.