Saw this clip on another blog. Just had to share:
I don't know what they are trying to pull here. If I was to harass some cute girl at the gas station and then she started doing gymkata at me, it would only arouse me. After all, she can tumble and that just means she is "bendy".
The most disturbing thing is that their gymnastics are easily defeated by simply putting your hands up and bumping into them - preferably when they are upside down. Or you can keep backing up until they get tired and then grab them. I also liked the way that the girls just turned their backs on those guys because no one would ever just jump on your back in a street confrontation. Well, maybe they wouldn't if you just did part of your floor routine.
THAT IS ALL
Well, tournament is over and all I have to show for it are bruised ribs and an estimated $300 bill from the emergency room.
I made weight. Couldn't break my boards (tried 5 had to do 3). Got the bye and was defeated in a mere 60 seconds of pathetically waving my arms and legs around.
I did have fun for that 60 seconds, so I'm not entirely sure if I will go back into permanent retirement. I don't know. I'm back on the diet and training schedule, but I see that more as a lifestyle choice more than anything else.
END OF LINE
Weight Update
I'm showing 166 with all my clothes on right now. I'm guessing that puts me right at 163. Tomorrow, I will weigh in on the actual scales over in Oxford. I'm going to have to go to the grocery store to pick up some yogurt and a few slim fast shakes. It's going to kill me to not be able to eat a real dinner Friday night or a real breakfast and lunch on Saturday, but it will make the Saturday night dinner/drinking binge that much more enjoyable.
Physical
I have a bruise on my right shin just above the ankle. My hamstring/glute area on my left side feels sore. My right knee isn't hurting, but when I was shadow sparring yesterday, it felt a little off.
Mental
I'm ready. My strategy is simple. I will fight NOT to lose. You read correctly. I'm not going for a knockout. I'm not trying to win. All I'm going to do is avoid losing. The joy I feel during the fighting will be reward enough.
I really don't care who is going to be in my division. I really hope that it comes down to a Picklez/Big Red final. I think that fight would be legendary. I say that because it will be clean (no fouls), high spirited, and fun. Everyone who knows us will enjoy it and the people who don't will enjoy it, too.
One of my personal goals in the fight is not to commit any fouls. I know that accidents will happen, but I've never committed a foul (in Full Contact) at a tournament. I have committed fouls in point fighting. All but one of them were accidental though. I'll have to say that I've not committed more than a dozen fouls during regular sparring in my entire career. I kind of pride myself on that.
Other stuff
I was talking to Sweet Tooth last night after class and he made mention that I look a lot slimmer and more fit. I can tell that he's lost a little weight too. A few other people have made the same comment about my appearance. Most notably, my mom. I find it ironic that she'll say that then have me get on the Wii fit and that stupid machine will tell me that I'm Obese.
Truth be told, I was about 180 lbs in December. To lose 15 lbs in 7 months isn't really a huge feat. In fact, after the tournament, I'm still planning on continuing to diet and run. It will be much harder since I don't really have a goal, but it will be easier in a sense that I won't be obsessing over my weight. In fact, I will keep the same training regimen and diet but I probably won't be weighing myself very often. I will also let myself relax when it comes to weekend stuff like going to the pub for a Guinness 250. (I hope the place we go to after the tournament has that.) My long term goal is to get to about 150 lbs and then maintain it. My clothes will fit better and I might even be able to drop back to a size 33 waist and wear some of my old clothes.
I also need to refocus on getting my finances in a little bit better order. I paid off my motorcycle so I don't have to worry about that anymore. I'm hoping that my student loans will be paid off by the end of next year. I just need to get more DJ gigs. I'm going to start investing in leads. They only cost $1 each and the break even point is about $300. This means that I'd have to pay for 300 leads without getting a gig before it becomes unprofitable. I think that I can get score a few gigs within the first 10 or so.
Overall, I feel pretty positive about most of the aspects of my life. The more I read about the tough times I hear other people are going through, the more I realize that I don't have it that bad. All I know is that it is going to take a lot of hard work to get things to where I want them to be. I'm no stranger to that. Plus, who knows, maybe I'll catch a break! After all, I have a chance at $300 this weekend.
END OF LINE
Yesterday, as I left the office I saw a marching band on the quad in a rehearsal arc. I meandered over and watched them practice a little bit. It was a smaller band <100 kids. The director would talk and tell them various things and then they would play. Wash, rinse, and repeat. It brought back memories of the tedious drum corps and marching band rehearsals.
The ratio
I just remembered standing there cussing the people who kept screwing up and making us have to play again. I remember being so tired and hot from standing in the sun. I remember pretending to play some of the time and just fingering the valves. I used to announce my "ratio" to my fellow horn players. Or they would ask me, "What are the odds?" And I'd say "2 to 1" or sometimes "5 to 1". As the season wore on a lot more players started doing the same thing. The funniest story regarding this was when an instructor came to me and told me that it was the best he had heard me play a particular section. The guys next to me laughed and he said, "What's so funny?" Now that they were on the spot they gave me up and said, "Picklez is on a 3:1 ratio today."
"What's that?" he asked.
"He's only playing once every three times!" The instructor then got irate and made me play the part solo. I played it (quite well in my opinion). He then launched into a speech about commitment to the corps and proper respect. Then he asked the entire hornline how many of them were "working ratios". Pretty much everyone raised their hands. We had a meeting with the corps director and he asked me why we were doing it. I told them that it seemed like our practice schedule was extremely brutal and some of us simply didn't have the chops for 10,000 run throughs a day especially when we were expected to perform in the evenings. He told us that he would reduce the # of rehearsals and sectionals and also reduce a few of the lengths. Once he did that, the entire hornline performed much better.
What I didn't tell him was that we were so sucky that it really didn't matter how much we practiced because we weren't going to be able to get past 23rd place anyway. I think we placed 2nd to last at the end of the season. Which is actually 27th place.
That particular instructor was a huge prick anyway. I remember that I made up a little song about him and everyone in corps knew the song, but no one would ever sing it in front of him. After the corps had been officially released from duty, he cornered me and demanded to hear the song. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about. He walked away mighty pissed off. Another instructor who hated his guts came to me and asked me to sing him the song. I did and he just laughed and laughed. Here's how it went:
I want to be like ______________________.
I don't want to grow up!
I want to be only 4' tall.
March ___________!
Be a prick!
Have a big old cleft in my chin!
I blanked out all the pertinent information that would identify him. You never know who is reading these things.
Most disgusting practice eVAR
We had to practice in a parking lot one time that was outside a major arena. That wasn't so bad except that there had been a GWAR concert there the night previous. Needless to say there was broken glass, vomit and used prophylactics on the ground. Some of them were still partially filled with ejaculate.
We were very distracted by our environment and when we kept screwing up they wanted to make us do pushups. I yelled out, "Put it on my tab!" The Drum Major got pissed and got down off the podium and got in my face and told me that if the whole corps (including him) had to do push ups, then so would I. I said, "That's all well and good when you do your push ups up on that damn podium. I'll tell you what, why don't you do your push ups right next to this puddle of urine where I'm standing..."
The corps director came up to us and told us both to calm down. He then ended the rehearsal and found us a new practice area. You know, the more I look back on my Drum Corps experience, the more I despise it.
END OF LINE
The tournament draws ever nearer, and I think I'm beginning to feel more nervous. Nervous about my weight, yes, but I'm also becoming more nervous about the actual fighting.
Weight Update
I just weighed myself down in the Nurse's office and I am 166 with my clothes and shoes on. I'm going to guess that puts me at 163. The question is whether or not I'll be able to keep the weight off until Saturday. I talked with the Medic and some other folks and everyone seems to think it shouldn't be a problem. I'm just going to stick to my current diet and training regimen. I will not be running outside though. There is an indoor track in the Rec Center so I'll just run in there. I think 22 laps is a mile. I'll go for 30 laps every day until Friday.
Readiness
I put in my previous post that I felt fit and ready, but further analysis has revealed otherwise. I'm a little worried about my readiness to fight. We sparred in class on Wed. and Thurs. and I'm not too happy with my performance. My timing was off and I just couldn't seem to move fast enough to counter and block properly.
Another weird dream
I had yet another tournament related dream. In my dream, the tournament was held in town (rather than in Oxford). I showed up to the venue which was a school but it was an elementary school that I visited while I was in Japan. When I arrived, I realized that I didn't have my uniform, belt, or the sound equipment I was supposed to set up.
I was going to have to drive all the way back to the house to get it, but I was supposed to weigh in. I was approached by one of the Shihans I don't get along with and they were surprisingly understanding and helpful. They said they would let me borrow their uniform for the weigh in and help me during the fighter's meeting.
We got up to the weigh in area but there was a class going on. The person with me asked if there was a scale and a little girl brought one out. It was a scale with a digital readout, but there were two raised areas with that gel type substance in those shoe inserts. I had a lot of trouble balancing on the scale and I watched as it fluxuated between 170 lbs and 210 lbs. I couldn't ever get my balance so I told the Shihan I would weigh in when I got back. He just smiled and said, "No problem!"
The rest of my dream was mainly frustration as I couldn't find the things I needed and when I made it back to the tournament, I was late. Then, I had a lot of trouble setting the equipment up. It was finally my turn to fight and I said, "I didn't weigh in or break boards!" The judge (who was someone I've never seen before) said it was "OK" and just to fight. I stepped onto the mat and my opponent was myself in a black uniform. I didn't recognize myself right away because this was the me that exists in the Bizarro universe where I am 6'4" and 200 lbs of muscle.
The fight started and I remember feeling like I had lead weights attached to my arms and legs. The Bizzaro Picklez was moving unbelievably fast. Everytime he hit me, it felt as though someone was swinging and connecting with a sledgehammer. I kept moving and fighting though. The first round ended in a draw. I felt tired, and I looked across at my opponent and he/I had a dead pan look on his/my face. The next round began and he threw a vicious front kick that doubled me over. He followed that up with a knee kick to the face.
I remember lying on my back and looking up at him. He just stood there with his fists clenched and a disappointed look on his face. He then shook his head slowly at me and turned his back to walk away. That's when I woke up.
Analysis
So obviously, I'm worried about my weight. This is the second weighing in dream I've had in the past 2 weeks. I'm also worried about the administrative part of the tournament even though it really isn't any of my concern. Yes, Shihan Man asked me to bring the sound equipment, but that's about it.
The plan is for me to go to the Civic Center on Friday night and weigh myself. If I'm too fat (4 lbs or more over) then I will resign myself to judging during the day and helping out at night. If I am at weight or only a pound or two over then I will limit my activity to the workout Friday night and judging during the day. If I am below weight, then I will not judge during the day and just rest.
Back to the dream, I don't know about the significance of the Shihan. I guess it might be my subconscious telling me to let go of the past (despite the disrespect this person has shown me for the past 10 years). I don't know. It was just such a weird situation. It was almost as if he were acting the way I do at tournaments. Helpful and positive...
I have no idea why I was fighting a Bizarro version of me. Also, I don't know why he defeated me. There are a lot of ways I could look at it. The fact that he was wearing black suggests that this was my "evil" side. Perhaps he was disappointed because I was so weak and that he was really hoping for a real fight. I have been feeling more "evil" as of late. I'm not a person you would label as "kind and compassionate", but I've had a lot less tolerance and patience. I find that I really don't care about other people's problems as much anymore. Maybe the dream was significant because my evil side has gained dominance over my "good" side.
One could also argue that the Bizarro Picklez is a manifestation of what I consider to be my true potential. The thing about it is that one who strives for excellence never reaches his full potential. That would explain why he was so huge and quick. That would also explain his disappointment in that I wasn't much of a match for him.
Why am I fighting? (or trying)
The dream really got me thinking about why I'm even fighting. I know that if I fight, this will most certainly be my last Full Contact match and that I will go into retirement (for real this time). I want it to be a good one. Winning and losing don't matter. I just want to feel as though I gave it my all.
I also want to fight because I've been feeling a little disrespected as of late by some of my peers in karate. There are black belts in the organization that don't show me much respect. I feel as though a good showing at this tournament might get some of them to step back and say, "You know, I was wrong about Picklez."
Both of these reasons are the wrong reason to fight. I realize now that I need to fight simply for the love of fighting. I know that sounds odd, but just as in any sport or activity (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) there is a zone that you get into where everything is right with the world and in this one fleeting moment you lose yourself in the joy of the activity.
I remember from previous knockdown fights the anticipation of hearing your name called to the ring. I remember the feeling of pride and fear as I stepped onto the ring. In the middle of the fight I just remember thinking to myself and just feeling like there wasn't anyone around. It was like I was shadow sparring. I couldn't hear the crowd or anything. I would just punch and kick without thinking. When it was over, my lungs were burning and I felt the pain of my body, but it was a good thing. It was just 3 minutes (sometimes less), but I was willing to go back to more if someone asked me to do so. This is the feeling I want to recapture. I realize that now. None of these other things matter. All that matters is that I have fun.
END OF LINE
With the Full Contact Tournament a week away, here's where I stand.
Too Fat
I weighed myself at the Rec Center last night wearing naught but my knit cotton boxers. The final count was 165 lbs. I am one pound short of the 164 lb cutoff. I'd like to be 163 just to be sure I make weight, but I don't think I can do it. I'm also not sure how to do it and still be healthy and ready to compete. All this time and training just to fail by such a small margin.
I'm not going to give up just yet. I'll stay on my current diet, but I'm not overly convinced that I will make weight. I think that height should also be taken into consideration when splitting the divisions. I don't know. It's just me.
Mental condition
I'm not overly nervous right now because I'm pretty sure I'll be too fat to fight; however, when I think about getting into the ring, my heartbeat begins to rise and I feel an urge to hit someone really hard.
Physical condition
I'm a little sore from fighting on Wed. and Thur. in class and I have a bruise on my right hand. I feel ready though. I feel fit and strong.
END OF LINE
Time mercilessly marches forward no matter whether we are ready or not. As I get older, I keep feeling each second slip past me and the day of reckoning comes hurtling toward me as I clumsily try to back away. All that being said, here are some weekend highlights.
Guinness 250
I was introduced to this at the beer fest and I've ordered it every chance I've gotten since then. BabySteps and I went to the Irish pub Friday night and had dinner. I had the chicken curry (ammo for our ongoing war) and two pints of Guinness 250. Needless to say, I was pretty hammered after that.
Customer Service
In May, I was hired by a crazy, old man (father-in-law to a lady I work with) to move his data over from his old computer to his newly purchased computer. He is a self-proclaimed expert in computing which is why I was bewildered why he would want to hire me to perform such a simple task.
Anyway, his data moved over with no problem. The problems arose later when he tried to open files that required software to which he no longer owned the original installation disks. He was also having a difficult time finding his data. I found this odd because the basic file structure moved over. He was using Windows Search to locate various files and folders and it was taking an excrutiatingly long time. He claimed that all the data didn't move over.
Babysteps turned me on to a free application called "Everything". It only works if you have a NTFS file system. It basically does an instantaneous search of ALL the contents on a drive. I am going to install it on one of my work computers to see if it will search the network, too. I installed this on his machine and he was able to find everything quickly. He wanted to reorganize the data and remove the unneccessary items, but that is a project that would require at least 16 hours.
One of the other "problems" with his PC was that he had a bunch of files with a .nco file extension. Just so you know, it is a proprietary format created when using Nero's Backitup software. Shenanigans. What this means is that you can backup all your data using this application, but if you ever want to retrieve the data, you better damn well have the software installed. In other words, if you back up your data using the software hoping to load it onto a different computer you can load it, but you won't be able to open any files unless you have the software installed. There's a work around, but it is extremely tedious and ineffectual. Plus, to utilize the work around to the fullest potential, you would have to purchase another software product that costs the same as the original. Bullocks!
At any rate, I spent nearly 3 hours at this guy's house and didn't get paid. I won't be giving him any other freebies regarding this issue.
Party
On Saturday night, I went to a party being thrown by one of my students. This particular student is very financially secure. I enjoyed myself as the food was very good. His two year old daughter took a shine to me and spent a lot of time trying to attack me with plastic forks. I don't know what it is about me, but apparently I give off a "go ahead and punch me" vibe to all little children. I didn't put the kabosh on her attempted shankings until she actually stabbed me in the crotch.
There was a guitar/singer duo playing throughout the party. They were there last year and they haven't lost their touch. They sang "The Rainbow Connection" and the singer did a pretty decent impression of Kermit the Frog. He did such a good job that I downloaded the song and put it on my iPod when I got back to BabySteps' house.
Going to the party alone made me realize how utterly awkward I am in social situations. I just don't have the mojo to be "the life of the party" amongst strangers. I don't like to introduce myself or talk to strangers. That might surprise many of you because of my experience in martial arts. After all, as an instructor, I am often in the limelight and having to set an example or make a good impression. The thing is that this is a carefully crafted persona that I have developed. It's a conditioned response to when I am wearing my uniform. I feel a certain amount of confidence when I don my do gi. This simply isn't true when I am in "civilian" clothes.
Even at karate functions, I am pretty subdued when it comes to party time. The exception would be in the "Party Zone" in Oxford. That is more like a family function so I am much more relaxed. I honestly believe that I am a very introverted person, but my environment forces me to become an extrovert.
Operation: Catnap
Yes. Mack - the demon cat just east of Hell - was finally put down. This weekend marked her 20th birthday which is 140 in cat years. The cat has been in renal failure for the past year and a half and I think that internally, the cat's organs simply weren't functioning anymore. The cat didn't seem to be in pain, but it couldn't make it to the litter box anymore and would throw up anything it ate. It was only a matter of days in my opinion, so my mom made the decision and PopPop carried out her executive order by taking her to Petsmart.
My eldest niece really took it hard and cried for about an hour straight after my mom explained what was going to happen. I let mom and PopPop talk to her about it because my opinion on animal death is pretty frank. I don't think animals should be abused, but I don't see them as "people" either. Human beings have dominion over animals. We should respect them and not mistreat them, but I think it's wrong to give them an elevated status. Anyway, I wouldn't have spent so much time trying to explain things to my niece. I would have simply said, "Look. The cat was old and sick and in pain. The only thing we could do is put the cat down so she wouldn't suffer anymore. She wouldn't have felt anymore pain and would have simply gone to sleep." She never really calmed down until my brother showed up anyway.
Really and truly, I don't understand why anyone got upset over the matter. All the cat ever did was hiss at people, bash them in the face, and then try to bite them. You couldn't ever pet damn thing because it just might decide to turn around and bite you if it didn't like what you were doing. Granted, that behavior started about 10 years ago. The cat was pretty normal the first 10 years and actually did some pretty unusual things. For example, this cat would play "fetch". If you took one of the plastic rings off a milk jug and threw it, the cat would run and pounce on it and then bring it back to you.
Blackout
On Sunday, BabySteps and I had dinner at a quaint little restaurant called "Zaxby's". They serve chicken in the wing and finger variety. Shortly after we got back to the house the power went out. This distressed BabySteps because he really had more work to do after dinner. He even contemplated jumping in the car and heading to the office.
We sat there in the dark and talked about possible movie and comic book ideas. I think that my writing would actually get done if I were working in a collaborative setting. So anyway, we had a pretty entertaining discussion. The power came back on and BabySteps got back to work. I think he works too much, but I can tell he is doing it out of necessity and would probably prefer to do a million other things, but he doesn't want to let people down. He revealed to me though that he is starting to reach the point of "not caring". That's a bad thing.
I know this because I've reached that point many a time during my work history and I'm starting to reach it now with karate. When you reach this point, you no longer have any passion about what you're doing. You just plod forward without any hope in your heart and without the satisfaction of a job well done once things seem to start calming down. This leads to despair and will ultimately damage your psyche.
Weird Dreams
I had a number of weird dreams last night. The first one revolved around the upcoming fighting tournament. I've been stressing over my weight. Honestly, I don't think I can lose the pounds and be healthy enough to fight Full Contact. So in the dream, I had to get on a really weird scale that was kind of like a stairmaster. You had to have balance to get the scale to measure you properly and I kept falling off. I finally did it and weighed in at 175. I decided to just move up to Heavyweight. I remember discussing my decision (in my dream) with Big Red, PFC, and Hangtime.
This lead to the 2nd part of the dream where I had to pick up Hangtime, Overboard, and Sweet Tooth to go to the tournament. It was in a completely unfamiliar setting so I picked them up at the hotel and drove them there. Once I got there, I saw the Medic and he was kind of warming up for the tournament. We both then decided to ditch the tournament and go gambling. We got into his car which for some reason was an old mattress with wheels. We drove to the casino, got some chips, ordered drinks, and started playing blackjack. I was just about to win my first hand when I woke up. Weird...
War Journal
I had BabySteps on the ropes with some of my ordinance. I zeroed in on his position and let loose with the heavy artillery. I must have shelled him for at least 40 minutes straight during one stretch. A few more sessions like that and I think he'll surrender.
END OF LINE
I hope everyone had a Happy 4th of July! I did.
Thursday
The weekend started a little early for me. Big Red, PFC (formerly PV2), and the Medic came over from Oxford to workout with me and my Thursday night class. On the way to class, I came up with the demo routine to end all demo routines. If we start practicing now, we'll definitely win the Winter Camp competition.
Anyway, class went very well and Triple Threat seemed very impressed with the performance of the students. They were most especially impressed with the way that people behaved themselves on the sidelines. They regalled me with stories of their students screwing around or wandering off when it wasn't their turn to do a kata. I told them that there is a very simple way to avoid those types of problems. Sure, one person takes a lot of heat, but everyone else learns from it. After all, some people's purpose in life is to serve as a warning to others.
The dinner at Outback was underwhelming. I used up my $50 gift certificate. Sweet Tooth joined us which was cool because I haven't really hung out with him for awhile.
Friday
Our tee time was at 11:00 and 11:10. We had to split into two groups. Alpha group consisted of Babysteps, the Admiral, PFC, and Hangtime. Bravo group consisted of myself, Big Red, and the Medic. We also had a walker placed in our group to make a foursome.
Overall, I think the Medic won the day, followed by Big Red, and then myself. I set a personal best score of 82. I didn't get any pars or birdies, but I kept my double pars to 1 or 2 and I never had a hole over 6 strokes. I pretty much bogeyed every hole. My putting was terrible until the last few holes when I putted left-handed.
I don't know what it was about that day. I was completely relaxed and I didn't ever try to force a shot. I didn't end up in the sand a single time either. I felt pretty consistent off the tee and my short game was the best it's ever been.
There really weren't many shenanigans throughout the day. I got to see PFC get rattled and then drop kick his ball out of a sand trap. The cart girl, Shelley, was super cute. Better than that, she had a huge rack to which she displayed her cleavage and she was wearing a bathing suit top underneath her shirt; thus, the jiggle factor was quite high. It was worth the nearly $20 I spent on liquid refreshment.
After golf, we went to Wild Wing. The 7 of us decimated over 100 wings. We had some left over, but not many of the original 125. Also, for the record I want to say that Guinness 250 is awesome. It's some kind of special 250th anniversary version of Guinness. It is wonderful. I had some at the Beer Fest a while back and I'll be having it until they don't offer it anymore. Big Red, the Medic, and PFC enjoyed it too.
We all parted ways after dinner and we headed back to the homestead. The Admiral gave me another great haircut. BabySteps wanted one too, but he told the Admiral he'd give her a break because he knew how tiring it was to give a Hawaiian a haircut because our hair was so coarse and wiry. I laughed.
We watched Beowulf. I'll have to say that the ancient epic poem written in Old English is better. The movie was terrible. It sort of followed the story but not really. The battle with Grendel wasn't very good and I say that because they spent half the time trying to hide Beowulf's CGI dong.
Saturday
We spent the evening at Gator and Jewel's house. I had a really good Rum Runner and a beer or two. We also had delicious cheeseburgers and french fries. We capped dinner off with homemade ice cream.
Later, we went outside and lit off some fireworks. Most of them were pretty underwhelming. There was one called "Purple Rain" that everyone enjoyed and the finale "Butterfly and Flowers" was pretty good. I spent time racing the kids in the street. I'm much slower than I should be.
I had a really good time talking with everybody.
Sunday
We had originally planned to cook ribs on Saturday, but we stayed later than we had anticipated at Gator and Jewel's. We started cooking at 11:00 and watched the Onion movie. Everything was going well until the last 10 minutes of the 60 minute cook time. Babysteps went out to check on the ribs and saw that the temperature had reached 900 degrees. He opened the cover and flames shot straight into the air. No one was hurt, but 2 out of the three racks had been singed badly.
The ones that were burned were still actually pretty good. The end pieces had to be thrown away, but the rest of them turned out to just be burned on the back side. All in all, I had a pretty fun weekend. I ate entirely too much though. I'll have to get my diet back under control for the next few weeks.
END OF LINE
Hey! Would you like to see some hot, sweaty, girl on girl action with plenty of grunting and lots of miniskirts?
Then you need to watch Wimbledon. It's on right now...
THAT IS ALL
I putting this down here because I still sort of smile when I think about it. Yesterday, on my way to karate class, I was listening to my iPod and an instrumental song began to play. It was Chuck Mangione's "Feeling Good" - ah yes, AM Radio Gold... Anyway, I started "singing" along by making cat noises. If you care to imagine: Meow, meow, meooooow, mew, mew, mew, mew, Meow, Meow, Meow, Meooow.* (* you need to imagine actual song as well). Of course that sort of degenerated into me making cat in heat noises. I was thoroughly amused with myself. I got to giggling, then chuckling, then laughing, then laughing so hard I started tearing up.
Later, I got to thinking about why that made me laugh so hard and then I remembered why it struck such a nerve with me (and I started laughing again). A long time ago, my friend Scott and I were talking about Mr. Rogers and he said his favorite character was the cat. He then in his deep bass voice imitated the speech pattern of the character by adding "meow meow" randomly to whatever he said. It was pretty funny at the time.
I don't know. I just thought I'd share that.
THAT IS ALL
