- Category: Journal
- Date: 10.22.09
1:30am we’re on the road. No lights anywhere, what kind of country is this? I’m blind as a bat as is, let alone having no glasses with me, and driving at night. Everybody was asleep, cause I was the only reason people were awake, I was supplying the entertainment. At several moments I had to swerve hard because I couldn’t even tell the road bent lol.
Head Lumps had some of the nasty gas ever. All emanating out of his mouth. Every time we freaked out, yelling at him to hold it, open a window and blow it out. He’d laugh and say he didn’t know he was going to burp. When caught opening his mouth and forcing a burp he still denied it. I was getting so close to a True Lies moment where Arnold backfists a hole in that idiots face in his imagination.
Stopping a few times for gas and grub. Downing a delicious package of Beef Jerky, trying not to give any to Head Lumps – I read somewhere that Jerky is terrible for people with Cysts – was really the highlight of the trip home.
Coming up to the border, Head Lumps told me to take my hood off because I look too scary… This coming from the convicted criminal who hands in only his Canadian passport. I then chimed up making sure “Everybody be sure to have smooth heads“. Driving home the point how much I hate that weirdo.
Note: He also bite his nails until they were a millimeter, actually having no nail at all on several fingers.
Basically the entire 9 hour drive home I kept talking about how having growths on your head would be the most disgusting thing ever, and that the only thing worse would be being a nail biter.
We got through the border no problem. We made it to Dover. Holy sweet fuck we’re home.
Had a coffee at Arty’s and laughed at the antics of his hilarious sun. Told tales of our happenings with Head Lumps and BBI to Arty’s wife, and then got the hell outa there haha!
So I’m finally on my way home, from Dover, nothing exciting happens here, because I’m not a weirdo diabetic with massive cysts on my head.
Congratulations guys, you kicked fucken ass! I was proud to be a part of it!
Comments: 1
- Category: Journal
- Date: 10.21.09
WA WA WA WA WA WA!!!!!!!
Jesus Christ! Scared of some alarm waking my ass up, I freak out trying to answer our phone, but just hear a dial tone, so naturally I start hitting the alarm clock, and still nothing. BBI wakes up and turns off his phone, then rolls over.
Ok, right, I remember, waking up to leave at the god awful time of 6:30am. But he rolled over, maybe he changed his little mind? Back to sleep it is!
8am comes and I wake up naturally, but where is Big Baby Insulin? His stuff is here, but he’s gone. Not even a dirty tampon left in his place. What the fuck? The car is gone too!
Well, no worries, check out is at noon, he’ll be back, we’ll hit a buffet, and we’ll be gone.
11:55am everybody is pissed. BBI has not answered any texts or phone calls. We check out and live in the lobby for the next three months. Sorry wasn’t three months, just felt like it.
2pm we start calling hospitals checking for him. Nothing. Tried calling the police, cause we could try and say he’s a missing person, but the police station doesn’t answer phones in Rockford. Car rentals are all closed, but it doesn’t matter because Craig’s passport is in the safety of the car’s glove-box.
3pm I had brewed an extreme hatred for diabetics. And people with cysts on their heads were in a close second place.
4pm We’ve had enough, we’re booking a room at a cheaper hotel, going out for dinner, cabbing it to the airport and renting a car from there in the morning.
4:05pm That whining little fuck shows up. We all sprint outside ready to smash his face into an ugly diabetic pudding. He yells out before we get too close “Hurry up guys, you gotta drive me to the hospital”… I was still ready to drop his dumb, but the others lightened up.
So he left the hotel at 6:30am to quickly pick up some insulin… He honestly thought it would take 5 minutes to pick up some prescription drugs, without a prescription, in a foreign country known for horrible healthcare, with no blood work of any kind, and only $120 cash… I cannot honestly say that isn’t the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.
We load up the car and drive him to the hospital. When we get in the car, the music is BLARING, yet he tells us to keep it down cause his head hurts. Then he sits there holding his head the entire way to the hospital. However he was able to drive across the city from clinic to clinic, hospital to hospital. And when I tell him that if we just left like we had planned, we would’ve been home 4 hours ago and we would’ve had his very own insulin, he actually tries to explain himself… There is no explanation I would have taken, I was actually hoping he was dead, because I would’ve been ok with that, this was retarded.
In the hospital waiting, he finally gets in, it’s now 7pm. The 3 of us non-weirdos go out for food at Red Lobster. Endless supply of shrimp. They were serious! After we couldn’t eat anymore, they continued to bring out 2 orders of popcorn shrimp, and 2 orders of a shrimp pasta. What the fuck?! Even when you’re full they bring you more! At the start of the meal, I play a prank on Craig and load up his water with salt – roughly 8 table spoons. He gets back and I’m giggling like an idiot. He drank the entire thing without missing a beat, later his stomach hurt like hell and couldn’t figure it out lol.
Took away our ridiculous leftovers, and left for the hospital again.
Getting there we brought Head Lumps some food, and he lost it when we didn’t have a fork with it. No thank you, just “where’s the fucken fork you idiots“. After dicking around with a wheelchair, we go into the room to see this dirty-anus-licker.
Sitting on the bed with a kitty-litter box on his lap, swishing his mouth with water and spitting into it. No shirt on, tits hanging out, fat and sloppy arms at his sides. Acting like a little baby on his death bed. I was not amused at all, thus I took it upon myself to have some fun. I slapped on some gloves, put on a hospital SARS mask, and filled a third glove with water.
Running through the hospital like a retarded child at a grocery store, we went outside and played hacky sac in the parking lot in front of the waiting room window. Once that got old, I fully pants Craig and exposed his genitals to the entire waiting room. Laughter ensued.
Back to the room. I grew quite fond of the hospital gowns, I like the way they make my ass look. They had bags there, looks like bags you get at conferences filled with free shit. So I took it upon myself to make a take-away bag. I tossed in a couple gowns, and was rifling through the drawers for anything else of value.
The nurse came back in, getting him ready for an overnight stay. This is where BBI tries to pretend he’s so tough.
“I’m not staying here overnight, you have no legal right to keep me. I’m the toughest homosexual you’ll ever meet. I like goat balls in my mouth.”
That’s word for word by the way. I did not add nor subtract anything.
So now that he’s all tough, the lady politely says he could do that, no problem there, just has to sign a form. So really, that could have been done at 6:35 in the morning when he found out there was no chance in getting insulin anytime soon. Finishes his bag of pussy IV, and we’re outie.
From that point on we haul fucken ass to the border! My god what a god damn day!
Finally we’re here… Day Four: Why The Fuck Are We Still Here?!
Comments: 0
- Category: Journal
- Date: 10.20.09
Starting right after Head Lumps’ story about how he didn’t get with the waitress.
I’m in a fog of when we hit the grocery store, but I think Arty and I did that in the morning of this day. We mainly bought good wholesome food (broccoli, carrots, chicken, avocados, sweet potatoes, tomatoes and onion) but obviously, in a state fresh out of starvation we ended up grabbing some extras (krispy cream donuts and chips).
We ate us some mashed yams and chicken breast for breakfast. Good stuff. And Arty got all Martha Stuart on us and made his own hotel guacamole.
10am we went to check out the cage, but it wasn’t quite ready yet. Down to the amazing fitness facility at the hotel (2 treadmills from the 80’s, an elliptical and a bike). Worked up a sweat in there, with the heat cranked up. I busted out my first and only WOD for the weekend.
40-30-20-10
Push Ups
Sit Ups
Started with some sprints, but the fucken treadmills kept shutting off just as I reached a full tilt sprint, almost went flying over the damn thing 4 times.
Back at the rooms we moved some shit around and hit pads. Head Lumps wanted to hold pads at one part, it was actually the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. It was like watching a dog try to lick peanut butter out of it’s own asshole (picture it, how can you not laugh yourself sick?).
Had the boys work through just boxing, kickboxing, then some takedowns and ground and pound. Video taped it for later use in a highlight reel of their warm ups, and such leading up to the fights, and later on the actual fight footage.
The cage was ready then, and it’s much nicer then when I had fought there. It’s now round instead of 8 sided, because ZUFFA actually copyrighted the octagon. How a company can copyright a shape is beyond me, but that’s how this world works these days. And the mat’s now covered in a non-slick fabric, much like those water-resistant khaki’s you can buy from Old Navy. It looks a little bigger as well, maybe 18 feet in diameter.
I recall that we ate some form of food after that, but can’t pinpoint what it was exactly. One thing for sure, no wonder Americans are so damn fat! Their food costs them next to nothing, and it’s usually cheaper to buy more!
Craig was on a non-stop Corndog regiment. Served him well though, so can’t make fun haha. Almost Zone too probably, carbs coming by way of a vegetable more so than wheat, and a lump of protein and fat in the middle, not bad lol.
4 O’clock rolls around and it’s time for the fighters’ medicals. We luckily are the first to show up, and all our boys get in fast. I slapped on some latex gloves and offered to speed things up by doing all the prostate exams myself, but the Doctor figured he could handle it himself. Head Lumps was helpful to the put of annoyance. I thought for sure one angry looking black man was going to make him his bitch, but unfortunately nothing happened.
Everybody checked out, and Big Baby Diabetes even got to get a medical for kicks, I think he was actually hoping for a prostate exam. The kind where the doctors hand both remain on the patients shoulders. Ya know, one of those deep exams, using an extra sensitive instrument just to be safe.
Back to the hotel for a wee nap and some TV. I do believe we watched some of Dane Cook’s stand up comedy. Mowed down some more grub, and fucked around on facebook.
Fight time had snuck up on us, and gave us the old reach around. Arty and Craig felt like taking a cold shower to wake themselves up. But the shower was too small for the 2 of them.
Got to the venue and had the fighters meeting. Mainly it’s UFC rules with no elbows at all, no up/down kicks (when one guy’s standing and the other is down, you can’t kick up, and you can’t kick the downed fighter, not even in the legs), and the rounds are 3 minutes. The highlight was when the Ref said to not touch him in any way or he will have you arrested. So much for his celebratory BJ after our guys won. Tough nuts good sir.
Taped up the guys’ hands. I hadn’t taped a hand in a while, so I was basically winging it at first. By the last hand I was pro though. Coulda used a shitload more cotton, but we didn’t buy too much. I forgot that they didn’t watch you tape hands here. So after a couple rolls of dimes in each hand they were ready to bust heads.
Arty was up first. The crowd was cheering “BEARDHEAD BEARDHEAD BEARDHEAD“, it was their sponsor, a knitted beanie that pulled over your face like a ski-mask but had a built in mustache and beard.
He tossed out coupons and stickers with pride as they chanted. And they loved every second of it.
His guy was apparently a BJJ fella. Couldn’t tell though. Arty came out swinging, dropped a couple bombs and followed up with a leg kick. His opponent looked a bit worried, and tried for a takedown. Arty ended up on top, in side control, and worked for a crucifix pin. Got it and dropped couple hammerfists to this poor bastards head. An opening was there, and Arty quickly took advantage, forcing a girlish tapout from an Americana at 1:30 of round one.
Some time would pass before Craig’s fight. Assuming he’d be made aware a fight or 2 before, we just relaxed. He started rolling a bit to warm up and the tape-job checker came in telling us to get ready cause we’re up next. 2 seconds later she came back and said the fight just ended by 16 second knockout (hahahahaha) so Craig was up!
He entered, and was followed into the cage by a made that looked fresh out of a all-you-can everything contest. I swear he had tits bigger than many hooters girls. The bell rang and this obese rhino charged ahead, loading up a right hand so much a blind parrot could’ve seen it (why a parrot? just cause, shut up). Craig shot in under it and ran in across the cage, lifted the piglet up and slammed his ass down. Just like Arty he landed in side control, immediately securing an arm to set up a triangle choke, but before he could the fat lard of crap was already tapping…
Apparently Craig’s set up was so amazing the man knew he would be rendered dead should Craig finish the submission, and tapped out before hand.
The crowd booed because nobody knew what the fuck had even happened. Later though, the beardhead chants took over, and peace was once again brought to Rockford Illinois.
The fights were done, so we shot back to the hotel to change and eat before the after party. On our way to the after party Big Baby Insulin decided it would make most sense to grab his insulin (both the regular and the backup supply…) and put it in his pocket for when he’s at the crowed bar…
At the bar we hung out with the other fighters, talked with the promoter, and mingled with weird old people. We were slamming back jaggerbombs like a priest on an alter boy, and Craig must’ve had 30 beers.
Not much really happened at the after party, other than some women feeling incredibly uncomfortable as Head Lumps tried to hit on them using “I’m Canadian” as a pick up line over and over again, actually getting into an argument with a chick about the quality of that pick up line.
The bar was clearing out, we were all drunk and tired (with the exception of BBI, he only had one Jaggerbomb – first and only smart thing he’d do on this trip) so we headed back to the hotel.
Everybody was set on leaving at 6:30am Saturday, due to BBI’s undescended testicles. Actually wasn’t directly due to that, but in a round about way it was.
So alarms were set, and we went to sleep. I fell asleep with half eaten chicken in my mouth. It was a fantastical day…
Next up! Day Three: Big Baby Insulin Almost Doesn’t Die!
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