Happy Friday!! I hope you all are ready to kick off a fun weekend. Things around here have felt a little too ‘seriousy’ for me, so we obviously need to inject some kind of immaturity.
I’m also sitting on the verge of a minor/not-so-minor Hulk style flip out. Why? My computer and this slow butt internet has been working my last nerve!!!!! That whole Office Space scene of them just kicking the shiznit out of that piece of equipment, I wish I could do just that.
I know logically pounding on it won’t do a lick of good but the amount of instant satisfaction is almost just too tempting to pass up. I’ve never actually been in a real smack-down style fight with anyone…
…I think the closest I’ve ever really come to honestly physically trying to overpower someone was in a struggle over a chair with my brother. Sibling moments at their finest, but this was one time we did cross that line between ‘haha, I want that chair’ and ‘I don’t care who the heck you are, or the fact that it’s over something idiotic, I’m going to try to kick your butt’ territory. I was 18, my brother 16; he outweighed me by probably a good 60-70 pounds and had a foot on me. You probably know how it ended, he got the chair, but I tell you he got it a lot harder than he thought he would. Oh, and in my mind I totally creamed him.
On the subject, I’ve always harbored secret fantasies of being all street tough and like I really could win in any kind of fight…heck, I can barely come out on top of most verbal ones. That, and being that I love me my Fight Club, (okay, back when Brad Pitt wasn’t tainted by Jolie, he was hot!) I’ll start my own little knock-off. I’ll share a few rules:
- We can talk about this fight club, but only if I win. That’s right, just like any other sore sport I can’t have you bringing up my failures. If I’m not in the fight, then you can brag all you want.
- Races seem to feel okay about charging an arm and a leg to enter, then I’ll follow suit. You want to fight? I wear a size 8.5 Nike Structure Triax, I also want me some Franz Blueberry English Muffins.
- We don’t have weight divisions, but we instead rely on the PO scale: levels of pissed-offness. It’s all about the size of the fight in the dog, in this case it’s about the amount of pure rage adrenaline this sucker’s running off of.
- We don’t use weapons. If there is an object in your hand then it better be the item that your rage is directed towards…example: computer.
**Disclaimer: To state the obvious, the above is all a fictitious rambling and in no way represents anything I stand for or believe in. In reality I’d probably get the snot knocked out of me by mini-me, I’d drop to the floor faster than a hot potato…I vividly remember that Holyfield vs. Tyson, I’m not willing to lose part of my ear or any other bodily extensions. Finally, failures do make us better and hungrier for the next round, so I’m not saying losing sometimes isn’t a bad thing (heck, there are some egos out there who deserve a swift loss).
1) What was the last inanimate object that was the bane of your current existence and focal point of your utter rage?
2) Have you ever been in a ‘real’ fight?
3) Do you have a rule you’d like to add to our fictitious knock-off Fight Club?
4) Any fun weekend plans?