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Archive for the category “Human Interaction”

You aren’t supposed to smell before the gym

As you may know from a couple of previous posts, I work out at about 5 AM in the morning with a partner. What that really means is that I set my alarm for 5, roll over, pretend I’m getting up a few times, and then hurriedly look at my phone astounded that so much time has past. This was one of those mornings. I’m downstairs getting my per-workout fiber one bar in and my partner calls me. Now, I’m headed out the door so I ignore his call since I can see his headlights in my driveway and I’m almost outside.

Boy was that a mistake.

What I failed to realize (had I answered my phone I would have known) was that outside my door was a beautiful little black and white striped woodland creature. I opened the door all cool and calm, locked it, and when I turned around there it was. If this was any normal event in anyone else’s life the skunk would have been frightened and ran away. Not my luck. As I tried to tiptoe past the skunk to the right I noticed a little pint sized clone right behind it.

Great, its 5 AM and I’m pissing off a momma skunk. Way to start the day.

So this thing starts hissing at me and I try to squeeze as tight as I can next to the van when Bambi’s friend starts turning on me. I’ve never seen a live skunk in the wild, but I know what happens when a skunks ass is facing you. I’d like to tell you that I did something much more macho that what actually happened. What did happen is that I screamed like a little girl and jumped to the front of my van (wrong direction) and then realized that while I did manage to place the van between the skunk and myself, I also couldn’t see it and it had no problem crawling underneath the van. When I came to this realization I hauled ass (where does that expression come from? I understand that when you are running your ass is behind you, but it’s normally behind you unless you’re some weirdo that walks backward all the time…but I digress…) to my friends vehicle and somehow did a midair somersault, opened, and shut the door in one movement. Don’t ask me to do it again, I couldn’t if I tried.

By this time the skunk and her skunkling (don’t care if that’s not a word I like it) were running through my neighbors yard. I was in the vehicle with my workout buddy laughing his ass off at my shenanigans. They say that the best part of waking up is Folgers in your cup. I’m going to have to say that the best part of waking up is not having to fight a wild animal while simultaneously trying not to get pissed on by foul smelling skunk juice. Someone should make that into a bumper sticker.

Corporate Crackdown

So, some of you out there might be aware of my job as a lab technician for a company that deals with oil and gas. You might also be aware of my sense of duality that keeps me flip flopping back and forth like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Today one of the big wigs came in to give a speech about what was going on in the company concerning our location and the future plans and vaguely how they would affect us. To be fair, this needs to be done badly as we have been greatly mismanaged since the beginning and this had led to several financial and structural blunders. That being said, there is still a voice deep down inside of me that is holding an anarchy sign and wearing an eight inch green, spiked Mohawk and protesting vehemently.

In reality I want to be a well rounded adult and have the nurturing structure that keeps me tightly in bounds and steadily progressing toward a whimpering retirement in which I sit at home for the remainder of my years cutting out coupons for creams and complaining about the modern generation. That is to say, I want to want that because its boring and the path of least resistance. It would be very easy if this were my outlook. Unfortunately, the screaming anarchist punk in me (lets call him Rex because it sounds more rebellious than Quincy or Leopold) resists this with every turn. I’d say for every 80% that I agree with structural reform there is a 20% that I want to tear it all down and burn it to the ground.

I’m really not sure if I’ll ever be able to fully appreciate and capitulate to the gods of business. It might be my curse to be one foot in and one foot out for the rest of eternity. It’s quite ironic, however, that I am seen as a “company man” who has “drank the kool-aid” and this has earned me acclaim and will probably earn me a spot among the pantheon of business moguls here at some point. The real question is if I will look back at my progression will I be disappointed that I gave in and became part of the establishment and suddenly decide to tear it apart from the inside out, or will I (more likely) just become a tool; a cog in the corporate wheel.

Looking back this is kind of an uncharacteristic piece of literary work for me, but I’ll post it anyway…because the man can’t keep me down! 😉

How to deal with a narcissist

I’m not going to bother going into details about who this particular narcissist is that is plaguing me at the moment. Suffice it to say that he’s got my feathers ruffled. But I thought maybe my experience might help others…or at least be good for a laugh.

Well, I have to deal with this person quite frequently and for a long time I would just blow it off and call him a prick and comment to my friends about how highly he thinks of himself and I’d throw myself a little pity party. I’ve now learned that narcissists derive their compulsions from a lack of confidence and a constant need to be reassured of their own value. That being said, he is really only a victim of himself and my “snarkicism” isn’t helping anyone. So I’ve devised a plan.

From now on I will try to find things to compliment him on in a genuine and sincere fashion. I think by honestly looking at his positive contributions I will be able to better appreciate his input and not want to strangle him with an extension cord. Maybe. Also, I’ve decided that I will take a different approach when I need to talk to him. I will not try to invoke his own sense of self fulfillment by playing the hapless victim, I will only approach him on the topic of problem solving if I have thoroughly thought out my issues and have devised a plan, or several plans, of action. Then I can compliment him on his addition.

Sorry, that was a little less humorous than I was thinking it would be. It’s probably just due to the fact that I’m so irritated by it. Well, if I’ve learned how to do anything in 30 years its to let things go. So here’s to hoping…

Car Wrecks and Mailboxes

The two are unrelated you say. Hogwash!

So, as some of you may have noticed (the few of you who actually read my posts after my lengthy departure from the literary world of blogging) I am back to my old antics. In truth, I knew that I could never stay away from blogging, the desire to relieve myself of the thoughts and rants that bounce around in this spacious head of mine are too great.

With that in mind, I thought I should catch you up on some semi-recent events. Namely, the car wreck that landed me in the hospital for a little while. You see, most people would be perfectly right in assuming that a toll lane stop sign is a perfectly legal and legitimate place to stop. Unfortunately for Captain Textsalot (or whatever was distracting him) this theory was put into question.

It was a Thursday…and much like a Thursday, there was an ominous weight that hung in the air. Okay, maybe it was less ominous and more painful. I had been suffering from stomach pains which I thought were brought about by a hiatal hernia and I decided to go home from work. While waiting for the Cadillac full of strippers (more on this later) in front of me to drop their change (which was probably riddled with herpes and cocaine residue) and parked at a stop sign I was rear ended by a large truck going 60 miles per hour.

Let me put this in perspective. I drive…..erm….drove….a 2010 Honda Insight Hybrid which weighs significantly less than the Chevy Avalance that exhaust raped me from behind. The guy literally never hit his breaks and drove me through the car in front of me and into the concrete divider that separated the toll lanes. I must have been knocked unconscious because when I came to there was a lady trying to open my drivers side door.

The good news is that for a minute I didn’t feel my stomach pain. The bad news, and what was about to escalate in a short amount of time, was that my pain was not caused from a hiatal hernia. To make a long story short with the guy who hit me and the strippers in front, the girls in front of me were driving around in some guys car on their way to “dance” at work. The guy behind me said that he “thought I was going to go” and this is why he decided to try to see if he could run through my car. At first I refused medical help, but then I realized shortly after that I would need to go to the emergency room.

The reason for my alarm being that when my wife arrived to pick me up, my eyes and skin were both yellow. So now I was walking around like big birds shorter brother and on my way to the emergency room. The emergency room doctors and nurses rightfully deduced that I was walking and talking fine so I was not a high priority. After negative x-rays they were just about to let me go when they asked me for a urine sample. What secreted out of my nether-regions was something akin to coffee. The nurses actually stood in a circle holding it up to the light and gasping in amazement. Turns out my stomach trouble was really gallstones…

Being the lucky man I am, a gallstone had become lodged into my bile duct (possibly as a result of the accident, but probably not) causing my kidneys to back up with bile. After two surgeries, one to remove the obstruction and patch up the tube, and one to remove my gallbladder and its entirety I was now back to my normal hue. Unfortunately, the gall bladder was over-sized and hard as a rock and the incision had to be made larger which made my belly button look like a mini-vagina. No offense to you lovely ladies out there. But it’s the closest comparison I have.

The thing you don’t realize about Gerry the Gallbladder is that he breaks down all those nice fatty foods you like to stuff in your meat hole and turns them into nutritious vitamins and then stores the rest in your ass and thighs and spends the next half a day trying to get rid of them. But when Gerry leaves town….oh how the food gets its revenge. I now can’t eat anything that has fat in it without having to first make sure there is a bathroom within running distance. I’ve pretty much times it to 30 minutes before my body violently tries to rid itself of what I can only assume it thinks is the foulest food its ever encountered. I’ve met some devout people in my travels, but my bodies devotion to casting out the demons of Jack in the Box and Buffalo Wild Wings put all those to shame. I apologize if you’re eating right now….

So this brings us to the mailboxes. What I failed to mention previously is that as a result of the wreck I now have phantom back and pelvic pains that like to flare up at inopportune moments. Well, this past weekend I decided that I was going to dig up the old mailbox that was hanging in front of my house by duct tape and replace it with a nice new mailbox. Bad idea. After digging three feet of concrete out of the ground I felt like I had just received a massage via swift donkey kicking. If you’ve never tried this method of massage I highly recommend it. Especially if your level of self loathing is as evolved as mine.

So there you have it. Car Wrecks and Mailboxes. If you have any questions about how to deal with gallbladder issues or you just want to point at me in laugh feel free to comment below.

 

Honoring the Dead…by stealing their things

I’m a little pissed right now. Why? You’ll find out in a second. This is going to be ranty…so hang on to your knickerbockers.

My wife and I were asked to come help go through some stuff and help move. The belongings were that of my friends recently deceased father-in-law. I didn’t really want to go but they needed help and I knew they’d be giving away some cool gadgets of his so I agreed.

First, my wife and I both don’t really like this couple. They’re both self-centered and think that everyone else owes them something. But I’ve known this guy forever and he’s like a brother to me. On the way to the house his wife said, “Well, even a shabby house like yours would be worth a lot in that neighborhood…no offense.” So it didn’t start off well…

When we got there, my friend was less worried about organizing and moving and more worried about trying to take whatever he could. That’s started my second wave of irritation. Let me provide a few examples and lets see how you would have reacted:

1) We find a laptop brand new in a box. I tell the guys wife who says that it belongs to a company he sold it to and that they are looking for it. She sets it to the side and when she’s not looking he takes it and stashes it in his truck.

2) He finds a film canister full of weed and spends the next 30 minutes trying to find aluminum foil to smoke it out of in the bushes out back. He finally finds a doctor pepper can, smokes the weed, complains he’s too high and almost falls through her roof, damaging the sheet rock on the ceiling.

3) He goes around looking for things that aren’t supposed to be gone through and starts asking if he can keep them (as if he doesn’t have enough already). He even asks for a $400 dollar fish finder. He doesn’t have a boat…and he doesn’t fish…
In any event, we make it back to my friends house with thousands of dollars worth of merchandise and I help him unload everything. He then points to a pile of wires and scraps and says, “You can keep something if you want”. I look at all the hard drives, computers, monitors, DVD players, etc that he’s taken and just say, “Nah, I’ve got enough junk. You keep it”. Then his wife goes off on me about how its not junk and I don’t know what I’m talking about.

Sorry for the long rant, but the more I thought about it the more it pissed me off. I don’t understand why some people are just out for themselves. It makes no sense to me. There is more to life than mountains of crap. Okay, rant over. I feel better now. Sorry to drag you through that.

 

I’m a Dirty Little Hobbit

You may be wondering what this post is about with a title like that. Don’t worry, I won’t keep you in suspense long.

I was recently invited to a concert. The particular concert featured 311 and Slightly Stoopid. If you’re unfamiliar with either or these two bands, suffice it to say that they are of the “Amerified” reggae variety. A lot of songs about relaxing, happiness, and weed. I’m don’t smoke weed. It’s not that I have something against it, I just don’t really like it. My weapon of choice is alcohol.

The concert started off great, but I knew what was going to happen. Let me set the scene for you. We had seats on the lawn, which should be more aptly named the slopey, muddy cheap seats.

So there I am butt wet and muddy with my shoes off so that I don’t ruin them. The beer, which cost about 12 dollars for a 24 oz., quenching my thirst in the midday sun. I was having a good time and just relaxing and listening to music. The aroma of the concert was definitely of the illegal kind. Well, sooner or later the beers start to catch up to me and before I know it its nightfall and I’m swinging my shirt above my head and sliding down this muddy slope.

At one point I started pulling the rope tied to the barricade so that the barricade would fall and all the people would rush forward only to be driven back by security. I was that guy.

I suddenly realize I have to use the bathroom so I go to the bathroom. While walking in someone inquired as to why I didn’t have a shirt or shoes on and my reply, which seemed the most logical at the time, was that I was a hobbit. I’m not quite sure why I said it, but I’m glad I did. The guys face was one of bewilderment and slight amusement. I then merrily skipped (probably more like a drunken shuffle) into the bathroom where I probably stepped on more urine than I even want to think about. My thinking was that I was going to wash my feet, so it didn’t matter. Unfortunately I didn’t think about the fact that I was going to put my feet back into my shoes and they would be forever tarnished with the urine of a thousand potheads.

The night wasn’t over there, however. After the concert we decided to go to a place called TAPS where they had hundreds of beer choices. What more to finish off the gallon of beer I had earlier, more beer. I played a round of cornhole (its not what you think…google it) and then left to eat.

We arrived at Dots at about 3AM and I proceeded to devour a jalapeno and onion hamburger while my friend made an ass of himself to the surrounding tables. Note to self, putting sausages up to your ears and screaming, “I’ve got sausage ears!” is not as funny if you’re not drunk.

120 dollars later, I was home safely in my bed. I think I should mention that we had a designated driver. I would never drive after drinking anymore. I made that mistake one time and I will never go through the trouble it caused ever again. I did however get to sit in the passenger side and watch people get arrested for driving drunk. I even watched one guy get tackled off his motorcycle. Texas highway patrol doesn’t play around…

 

 

Victim of Nostalgia

I was driving in this morning, the rain sprinkled softly and the grey clouds blocked out most of the suns rays. I popped in a CD from The Killers and as I started off I was thinking about past people and experiences. Actually, it started with a dream I had about an ex-wife. For some reason we were in a supermarket and my dad was tickling her. Not sure what that was all about, but it happened…

The point is that I often go on these trips down memory lane where I have this aching desire to connect with people from my past or to put myself in the same situation so that I can prove how I can overcome this time around. I’ve often wanted to connect with ex-girlfriends or wives to try to re-establish a connection. Not romantically, just to rescue something that was lost and destroyed.

I realized this morning that I don’t really want these people or the situations, I just want to feel better about myself and forgive myself for not rising to the occasion or not handling relationships like I would have liked to. I had long been under the impression that I forgave everyone including myself for past regressions, but I am coming to realize that intending and hoping these things happen does not make it true. I am not sure how I can let these things go. I’ve tried working through each item and reasoning it out, but I guess my brain and my heart aren’t on the same page.

I do know this. I do not want to spend too much time looking backward or regretting. I have a family and a wife that I didn’t have back then and I wouldn’t trade for anything. That being said, I don’t know if the proper thing to do is to try to bury all of that stuff in the past or to try to work through it. If I choose the latter, it will be a long road. Not because I cannot forgive or forget but because I apparently don’t know how to change the feelings I have into positive feelings that will lead me out of this chasm of memories.

I am, however, open to suggestions….

Working out My Demons

As most of your know, I’ve been exercising a lot lately. A lot of my methods have been unique, but it seems like its really paying off. Up until now I’ve been playing it up as some sort of joke where I plan to take over the world with karate chops and manliness, but I’d like to share the real reasoning and progress with you.

This journey I’ve been going on isn’t just about losing fat, its also about personal growth. I was weighing about 197 when I started a few weeks ago, but now I am weighing about 183. That’s great, although my first goal is 175. It seems that my goal to lose weight is on track, but the harder part of my physical training is just beginning.

I’ve actually been training martial arts throughout my life, but (aside for about 6 months) I never took it too seriously. My goal now is to work at incremental goals until I am completely confident in my self-defense and subsequent offense. The first stage, which I’m currently in, consists of the toughening of my hands (palms, backhand, fist, side) while learning some boxing technique and karate strikes. I am also working on my flexibility.

The next step will consist of both learning kicking techniques, but also developing power in both my punches and kicks. In truth, I am already developing power, but this is not my main focus at the moment. First I need to work on form.

The last and final stage for this round will be advanced techniques and brushing up on something I already know pretty well, grappling. I assume this will take me a few years to do what I actually want to accomplish with this. I’m trying not to rush it so that I can steadily grow in skill, technique, and power until I am at the end goal. Who knows what will await me there.Right now I am building the foundation.

What I’ve left out, if you were following along, is the non-physical part. I am also training my mind. This not only consists of daily exercises in meditation and Qigong, but I am also working on alertness, knowledge, and trying to adhere to a strict code of morals. It might not seem like much to adhere to morals, but I have gone through my life lying when it was convenient to get me out of trouble. Now I am going cold turkey. Instead of telling my wife I’m getting home at 6, I tell her that I’m going to stop by the bookstore and read for an hour to relax. It’s actually helped my marriage because now I feel like I have more personal freedom. Even if she gets upset and wants me home, she normally respects my right to privacy.

It’s not just lying though. Instead of distracting myself at work, I try to finish minute details on things, and clear my backlogs. This has given my more respect and happiness in my job. Also, I try to think before I react. I have struggled with road rage for a long time now. While I have been working on it for about 2 years, I am not at the point that if someone cuts me off I don’t get upset (most of the time) and I thank them. I thank them because they are providing me the opportunity to practice my patience and tolerance.

Sorry if I bored any of you readers, but I spend so much time spitting out witticism and sarcasm that I figured I’d write something completely honest and from the heart. It feels good to write it, even if its not as good to read.

In case anyone is wondering, I don’t have a specific goal of where I want to be in 30 years. I only want to be healthy, have a clean mind and mental habits, and have as little stress as possible. I used to want to have a career that pays me lots of money and allows me to buy whatever I desire. Now I realize that I am happier with a job that I can be happy with, do with honor, and be depended on. If that makes me more or less money, I am okay with it.

You may call me Hercules

It’s been a while since my last post. I’ve been very busy. Although I am a little behind on my goal of world domination through impressive strength and karate chops, I’m still making progress.

My daily routine now goes as follows:

EXTREME Wake up

EXTREME Bowl of cereal

EXTREME Bathroom break

QUIET Qigong and meditation

EXTREME Punching Makiwara Board, trying not to look like it hurts, and looking at my scarred knuckles satisfactorily

EXTREME Working at Office

EXTREME Lifting random heavy rocks I found at my parents house

EXTREME Shadow boxing, stretching, and calisthenics

EXTREME DINNER

EXTREME Sleep

 

I’m sure you noticed (and were probably annoyed by) the multitude of extremes. It’s because I’m just that extreme. And if you’ve noticed that I’m not eating lunch, it’s because my lunch now consists of spring rolls eaten randomly throughout the day. Next step, injecting nutrients straight into my blood stream. EXTREME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Seriously though, I’m a little scraped, cut, and bruised right now. Nothing too bad, I’m just toughening up my body for the apocalypse. And if that doesn’t happen….I’m going to be the toughest, strongest, judo-choppiest mofo on the 8th floor of my office building. I can’t count any other floors because there is this amazonian woman who works here and I don’t know what floor she’s on because I always hide. I’ve seen videos of what amazonian women do to men. I don’t want that kind of trouble…

Everybody have fun tonight, Everybody Qigong tonight

In my previous attempt at becoming the world’s strongest and most amazing man, I was lifting weights, punching boards, and accelerating the earth’s rotation by running faster than a speeding bullet. Somehow this led to me looking up throwing stars (Shuriken) online and then watching videos of them, which then led to trying to figure out what Kunai was and watching videos of that. Lastly, I stumbled across a random comment where someone said,” You think that chi doesn’t exist, look up Proof of Chi and watch the documentary on the Chinese guy”.

Now I’m about 25 pages in to a book called “The Way of Qigong” by Kenneth Cohen and I’ve watched about 3 hours worth of Qigong videos, mixed with some Bruce Lee documentary excerpts.

Qigong is basically a method to direct the flow of the body’s energy for health and vitality. I read along the way that the body and mind were one, so I thought while I’m getting my work-out on I might as well give it a shot.

Yes, I am very random and impulsive. Yes, I love every second of it. I don’t think there is anyone who really knows me that would ever say I was boring or stale. Carpe Diem my friends!

Just in case you were wondering, my future name as a master of the universe is either going to be “Zen Master Bohn” or “His Zenniness”. And I’m writing this post with my mind power. Boom! I just blew your mind didn’t I?

 

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