I Got an Owie!

I just realized that I aggravated the mat burn on my left, big toe. Cherry red where there's no skin. It doesn't even hurt, but I need some liquid bandage for it...or some shellack.

I did the full warm up, today (running, tumbling, the whole nine). When I left the gym, my shirt was soaked. It was torn, too. So, much for Izod. It used to fit snugger than it does, now. I submitted a guy cuz I got him in a hold and he couldn't breathe because my shirt was so wet. I guess I used a 'gi' move on him. I'll need to get some UnderArmor, I guess. I'm not bad, but Ion't think my body is ready to be displayed like that, yet. Gimme six weeks at this pace, though.

There was a kid rolling today...11 years old. I felt all paternalistic toward him. I showed him how to do a single leg takedown.  (Damn! My nose was bleeding. I did not realize that til I just blew it.) The kid has a good grasp of technique.

There was another brotha there who goes by 'King'. Um...ok. He's a boxer. His arms were very defined and strong. I tell you this not in admiration or anything. It's just that different disciplines have different strong suits. Throwing 10 & 12-ounce gloves around constantly is going to make your arms and shoulders strong.  I submitted him once, but mainly I showed him a couple things, and gave him my basic philosophy: When a guy is moving your arm or leg a certain way or maneuvering you a certain way, don't let him. Cuz, he's gonna do something next that's usually REALLY gonna hurt. So, when he pulls your arm, take your arm back. This was King's second class in this discipline. He seemed to appreciate what I showed him.

I sparred with Pedro, again. Sparring with Pedro is tiring. He's very strong and he's always trying to do something to you that's gonna hurt...a lot. So, I spent a bit of time reversing holds and passing his guard and trying my damnedest not to get the shit choked out of me (literally...that'd be VERY embarrassing).

That brings to mind my last class. One guy asked an instructor, "If a guy shits himself and quits, does that count as a submission." The instructor said, "No...but, if you shit yourself and your opponent doesn't want to continue, then THAT's a submission." LoL...fighter humor.

Anyway, Pedro told me that our instructor TOLD him to wear me out today. It seems that I've already gotten a reputation for being 'big & strong' and this was my second class at this gym. Well, I have to admit it: I gassed. I tapped and I wasn't even in a hold. I was just fucking T-I-R-E-D. Six minute rounds and this was the third? Yeah, the new guy was spent. I'm going to get better, though. Trust me on that.

Anyway, I got it together and then fought one of the 'gi' fighters. See, there's 'gi', traditional jiu jitsu with the belt and the robe (see pic above). Then, there's 'no gi'. (pic right) Gi is a lot more traditional, as you might imagine. 'No gi' might seem like wrasslin', but it like many martial arts is very scientific in its approach to anatomy and specialized forms of personal mayhem.

I'm having a BLAST. Now, to find some liquid bandage.

Rollin', Rollin', Rollin'

Mat burn on both big toes, I'm coughing up 4.5 years of phlegm and wheezing like an asthmatic beatboxer who can't find his inhaler. My shoulders feeling like they've been put in a blender on PUREE and then patted back into place. My ass feels like it's going to cramp from jumping rope for minutes at a time. A tattooed Latino is looming over me flexing his fingers and putting both of his hands on my throat to choke me.

And to think: I wanted to do this.

...the fuck?!?

Yeah, I'm back in jiu jitsu. I freaking LOVE this. How come I jump rope better than the Brazilian chicks? (THAT was distracting, by the way. I tripped over the rope a couple/few times trying to NOT watch the jigglage. Eventually, I had to turn and face the wall.) That's another indicator that I'm serious about this stuff. There was a chick fight with Brazilian chicks, no less, going on mere feet from me. (The girls sparred.) I didn't even stop to watch.

I'm so machoor!!! ←← LOL@that

On the plus side, before I gas, I move very quickly for my size. My sparring partner didn't believe that I weigh 253 lbs. Let me lose the 25 like I want. [white girl voice]Oh...my...god! Ohmigawd![/white girl voice]

But, for real, there is more room for improvement than you can imagine. I could not sink a guillotine on that smooth, bald head. My cardio is ass. But, Imma fix THAT.

Can somebody go to Sam's Club and get me one of those Tub o' Ibuprofen bottles, please! Thank you in advance!

Bash de Bunda

Women are appalled by this. I'm amused.

"Would you really let some chick smash her sweaty, musty, juicy booty into your face like that?!?"

Uh...hell yeah! In fact, if you got a big, shapely ass and can do a handstand like that chick without powdering your metacarpals: Call me!

Haha!

Crash and...BURN

Ever feel like you're actually at the point where you'll break if something else doesn't give? I screech up to that precipice at nearly full speed and then brake. It isn't a game of chicken. It's that I don't realize how close I am to that precipice until I'm right up on it.

Shoes smokin' like Frederick P. Flintstone's feet...



Dating...

Y'all been doin' this shit all these years? No wonder half of y'all are completely fucking nuts. Shit. Everybody's looking for The One, while they're hangin' out with The Few; but talkin' shit to the many. The fear is palpable. I can smell it...like a schmear on the bottom of my shoe ill-gotten by stepping on an shitty, unseen Pamper left out in the Georgia sun for the six hottest hours of the day. She's thinking, "If I give one mo' muthafukkah a piece of my heart and he breaks it, it might drive me insane." But, she'll never say it. He's thinking, "If I go out with another chick portraying herself like she's a lady, but she's actually crazy as fuck..."

More later, maybe. I just dozed.