Saturday Evening:
I wake up on the couch. I must have fallen asleep watching the crappy edited T.V. verson of The Terminator rather than just getting up off my lazy behind and putting the damned tape into the V.C.R. Dude on the Couch is sitting across from me as I get up, my mouth dry, my head still foggy, wanting a cigarette, a shower and to listen to my new Foetus CD (THANKS SiNDADDY, IT WAS FUCKING AWESOME!) and just plain damn wake up.
"Good Morning, Sunshine," he says with that big shit-eating grin on his face. That look never ceases to lock up my sleep-addled brain like a computer that's been overloaded looking for a way to process the information. This usually means he has a scheme up his sleeve. It's usually a scheme that sounds just plain great but will cause me pain in the end. It will either end in triumph or tears and it's been known to cause the latter in my case. This is the reason I despise that grin but it's one of those grins you can't resist. He's done this before. We were doing Operation: Bookload when he began by walking up to this cute goth girl at the counter with that grin, laying his charm on her and then, to her horror asked with that grin still on his face, "Where's your shitter? I really have to crap." Geeeeeez!
So now you understand the ramifications of The Grin. I got The Grin and it terrified me. This meant that, quite possibly, I was going to be the Sausage Creature by the end of it....fucked up for life.
"Hey," I said, still hazed, "What's up?"
"Let's work out," he said. Now, The Grin wasn't so terrifying. This was something for my well-being!
It's no secret that I've done too much of a couple of things. First, I drink far too many damned sodas for my own good and second, I spend far too much time sitting around in front of the computer. All of which has contributed to a midsection that has been stocking more than I can afford to store. It was only natural that I decided to consent when he said, "I just need 20 minutes of your time."
I should have read the insidious nature of that tone but I failed to do so. He knew when to snatch me up and appeal to my idealism. He knew all the right buttons to push, the bastard.
We spent a few minutes stretching. I'm nowhere as limber as I used to be and the stretching proved it beyond the shadow of any doubt. Great God, the results were already looking ominous. Then...the push-ups. I think I managed about fifteen before my arms just wouldn't push the ground away anymore. You see, I don't push myself up, I push the earth down but the earth is a stubborn bastard. My arms just shook when I tried. Next were the crunches which weren't too bad except that my back kept making farting noises against the floor. Mixing those with supine bicycles were a monster and I felt my abdomen screaming in protest. Each of these exercises only lasted several minutes but each of those several minutes felt like an eternity. Then, running in place for fifteen minutes. I managed twelve before my mind told me, "You know what? Fuck your ridiculous task and fuck you. I'm not doing it." My calves felt as though acid from a car battery coursed through them.
"Come on! Keep going! This is disgusting! You're quitting on yourself!" Dude kept ranting at me. This was the one factor I didn't figure on...this was something he learned in the military. This was something designed to kill you and then do some type of weird bio-mechanical rebuilding.
After the workout, I was completely disgusted with myself in the shower. We still had a trip to WalMart to make for groceries. By the time we arrived there, my damn calves were killing me. I'd skipped the refreshed feeling and went straight to being sore as all hell.
Oh Holy Shit, I AM out of shape and badly.
I still remember the way I was ten years ago and I loved it. I was light on my feet, I moved with pretty decent agility, I was limber, thinner and this kinda thing would not have been a problem. In the words of Christopher Walken, "You become the thing you fear...I let myself go."
Today, I get up. No workout but it's too damned late to film the promo, I've got laundry to do and still more of those documentaries to watch to get up to date and informed. When we got off on the issues of the War, The RFID Hacks that are already taking place and have taken place, The Nightmare Scenario of The Microchip and many other things, I realized I needed to update myself, address a bit more rather than go off about the same old shit over and over again. That's what I do at the laundromat. I pull out the portable DVD player and I set myself about the task of learning something new through the documentaries...and I have many. Unfortunately, it becomes hard to offend people with substance when the phone won't quit ringing. Mark my words...ring, it did. Finally, with laundry done, I packed it all away and walked back home. Walking seems to take that edge off the pain in my calves. Frustrated with the outcome of my learning time, thinking, "Why is it when I'm bored and have jack to do, no one wants anything but the minute I'm in the middle of something, the phone won't stop ringing?"
This is one of the things that gets me. To me, offending with style has been done. I've been called The Next Howard Stern by my peers and this is a title I do not want. No, I want something more. I want to offend with substance rather than style. There are plenty of DJs online that play metal, say "fuck" incessantly and talk about sex all the time but there aren't many who are willing to slam facts into the faces of those who don't want to look at them. That is what I want to do. Offending with substance takes knowing your subject and when people hear the hard parts, they run with no other option than to make lame excuses not to listen or call you names and, quite honestly, I'm not much of a misogynist.
Still...my calves are killing me and I wait...for revenge. Yes, my friends, I have returned to my uber-villain ways and I seek revenge against Dude on The Couch. He shall suffer a humiliating defeat at my hands in the one tournament that he cannot handle. His rebuilding of me will be his ultimate shame when he meets me in a tournament of epic proportions...The Mazu-Kan Tournament! I've never been defeated...I've never taken part...but I've never been defeated.
