Archive for the ‘karate’ Category

>More Shit People Send Me

Posted: May 13, 2011 in friends, karate

>If you’re a long time reader you know that I do karate with a guy named “Brian” who, sadly, was defeated by Jesus during our first-ever tournament but I avenged his death/humiliation by rising to the occasion and kicking Jesus’ ASS.

Because that’s what friends do.

Right before they make fun of their friend’s lackluster effort on a blog. Again.

The more you know.

Brian works in those big yellow scoop-type-truck things (Tonkas) when he’s not having his ass handed to him by lesser people like myself during sparring class.

How bad is your headache after that?

Please note that this was the second video my daughter took which, honestly, is a lot less funny than the first.

So I’m at work and my phone buzzes and I check it and it’s a picture text from Brian with NO SUBJECT and just this:



So I sent him back this:

To which he replies:

Brian doesn’t send me pictures any more.

Probably a good idea.

>Let’s Rewind the Tape!!

Posted: November 1, 2010 in karate, kids, movies, parenting, videos

For my regular readers (YAY, FIBER!) you know that I take karate classes.

You will know this from:

The time I entered a karate tournament with my son.

The time I beat Jesus in one-on-one combat at said karate tournament.

The time I shattered my hand in karate.

The time I broke my hand AGAIN in karate.

Yes. I broke it TWICE.

My regular readers also know that I don’t learn from my mistakes.

Hey…my hand still hurts but the Jesus thing makes it all worthwhile.

That’s what she said.


On Friday nights my son and I go to class, gear up and fight other people.

Violence = male bonding.

But since I have BOTH my kids on Fridays now, my daughter is reluctant to come along.

So I came up with THIS brilliant idea:

Me: “Payton, why don’t you run the VIDEO CAMERA while Cam and I fight.”

Payton: “REALLY?!”

Me: “Yes. It’s important. That way, we can review the video to see maybe where we went wrong.”

She loved the idea. I actually loved the idea. To be able to review your mistakes and missed opportunities (like golfers do) and make corrections for next time.

Until I saw what she taped.


Thanks, honey.

That should really help hone my skills for my rematch against Jesus.

That’s what she said.

Nope. Still doesn’t make any sense.

Moog out.



This is ‘Part Two’ of my karate tournament recap.

For Part One, click here.

When we last left our hero (me – hellooooo? my blog), we were in this situation:

I had just finished my first bout of sparring by defeating a 7’4″, 350 lb. gargantuan with all-gold teeth, nicknamed ‘The Spine Shredder.’

Some of the above may not be completely accurate.

Regardless, I won my first fight.

With my first win under my belt, it was time for someone else to fight.


Brian is another one of the other ‘Super Awesome Karate Dads’ (oooh…great name for a rock band) from my school.

Fully stoked, Brian immediately went up and wasted absolutely no time in getting his ass completely fucking handed to him 3-to-0 by this really tough looking Latino guy.

The Latino guy’s name?


That’s right.

We were fighting Jesus.

Jesus was from a school named ‘Dragon Fury’ (you can’t make this shit up) which is basically the Southern New Hampshire version of Cobra Kai.

They take their shit SERIOUSLY.

So Brian goes up against Jesus and Jesus – in true ‘I AM YOUR ONE TRUE GOD‘ fashion – attacks him with flying spinning kicks and roundhouse shit and it’s just one fucking giant blur of Jesus parts slamming into Brian’s face and random body parts.




Me: “Jesus Christ.”

Jesus: “What?”

So that leaves two winners (me and Jesus) to go head-to-head for first place.

Tale of the tape:

Height: 5′-2″
Weight: 155 lbs.
Specialty: High, fast kicks. High pitched girly screams can shatter glass.

Height: 5′-8″
Weight: 170 lbs.
Specialty: Makes wine out of water, raises the dead, wicked spinning roundhouse kicks.


The master calls us up:

Master (pointing to where I’m supposed to go): “Rodney.”

As I’m walking up, he calls:

Master: “Jesus.”

All I can think of, walking into the ring, is:

“How the fuck am I supposed to beat Jesus?”

Granted, it was pronounced ‘Hey, Zeus’

(Jesus…Zeus…HOLY FUCK…is this guy TWO deities in one?!?)

…but this is how my mind works even in the face of impending death.

Regardless, we somehow managed to get the score tied at 2 points apiece, with one more point deciding the winner for first place.

No pressure.

The Master yells “GO” and I try to fake Jesus out – similar to what, I guess, Judas did but without wearing protective headgear – and he comes at me with a kick and then ANOTHER spinning kick.

If I don’t get hit with these Jesus kicks it’s gonna be a miracle.


There’s a bit of irony for ya.

Regardless, as his Jesus feet are flailing towards me, I back out of the way…

…and as he lands…

I kick him in the stomach.


* cricket



I win.


I beat Jesus!

Fuck. YEAH.

Unfortunately, this did not sit well with Jesus who stood across the building from me for the rest of the day staring me down with his entourage (apostles?) and shaking his head in disgust.

Wife: “I think Jesus is totally going to kick your ass later.”

Wouldn’t be the first time.

What was weird is that, as I write this, I am totally sick with congestion and fevers and chills and shit.

This came on IMMEDIATELY after my fight with Jesus.

I swear to God that’s true.

The Lord works in mysterious ways, apparently.

But screw him.

I got the bigger trophy.



I’ve never – EVER – posted a modern day picture of me.


But I’m so proud of what my son and I were able to do (i.e., ‘clean fucking HOUSE’), that I’ve decided to share that with you.

Please bear in mind that I’m sweaty from sparring and have somehow managed a type of ‘superman’ jeri-curl thingy on my forehead…because I’m usually way hotter than this.

Oh, yeah…I’m the one on the left.

For more pictures of the tournament, and the hotness that is me, check out my Facebook page – which is accessible via the ‘Touch Me’ link above, or click here.

Moog out.

Alternate title for this post:

Suck it, Jesus!

But that might be pushing my luck.

Let me explain.

My son and I both entered a karate tournament over the weekend.

***** Sidebar *****

I’m 41 years old and just competed in a karate tournament.

Really fucking cool…or very, very sad?


Don’t tell me your decision unless it’s ‘really cool and sexy’ (women only).

***** End Sidebar *****

My son entered three categories: forms, self-defense, and sparring.

He did not place in ‘forms’ (note to myself here to berate him about this until he cries), but got second place in ‘self-defense’…

and FIRST FUCKING PLACE in ‘sparring.’ (fighting)

He placed first in his previous tournament in sparring, too.

My 6 year old is a WARRIOR.

A warrior who plays with Legos.



That’s better.

Much more fierce.

Got to do something about not placing in that other event, though.

I didn’t raise him to be a loser.

But he is a master of fighting.

He fought FOUR TIMES and won every match.

I was so proud.


…after winning the fourth match, he turned to the crowd…

…raised his hands up in victory…

…and yelled:


* cricket



And modest, too.

That wasn’t too embarrassing.

Thanks, Cam.

I enrolled in the same three categories, but for the ‘over 35’ age group which is all BYOW.*

* Bring Your Own Walker

I placed first in self-defense and second in forms.

That’s, right.

I’m awesome and then second-to-awesome.

Those average out to ‘pretty fucking awesome.’


I see where Cam gets his modesty.

I’ve digressed.

But then came sparring.

I was going against a guy that I go to class with, and two other guys – both higher belts – from different schools.

With my protective gear on and my mouthpiece in (shout out here to ‘Madame Punishment’), I stepped into the ring..

..and beat the first guy 3-to-2.

That’s right.

Man went DOWN.



I think I’ve gone a little too far with that phrase.

But I won my first fight.

I told you folks and you didn’t believe me:

Five feet of fury, baby.

Five feet of fury.

After I won my first match, it was my friend, Brian’s turn.

And he fought Jesus.

True story.


Stay tuned for Part Two where I have to fight God’s only son.

That he knows of.

Totally going to Hell.



I’m back after the sobfest from the other day.

Thanks to all of you who sent your awesome thoughts.

But now I’m back and ready to roll.

You’re welcome.

Now…onward and with full humorous force!!


Chicks will totally dig me now.

Let me explain.

I finally had my very last orthopedist appointment regarding my mangled, broken, surgically enhanced finger.

Here’s how that went:

Dr.: “ you have any questions?”

Me: “Yeah…um…it still feels really tight and hurts a bit.”

Hot nurse: “I’ll show you something really tight…”

Then I woke up.

I watch a lot of porn.

I’ve digressed.

Dr.: “It will feel that way for a while. You’re at 3 months. After 6 months, though, it is what it is…that’s how it will be for the rest of your life.”

Thanks, doc.

How fucking uplifting you are.

Here…here’s a shiv made from a spork…

Why don’t you stick me with it…right here…side of the neck.

Thanks in advance.

I had one last question:

Me: “Now…I still can’t straighten it.”

On a related note, that exact same sentence got me a prescription of Levitra from my normal physician.

Apparently, this is probably about as straight as it’s going to get.

Here’s my hand, with my fingers straightened out:

Fucking ay.

It’s going to STAY like this?!


…it dawned on me.

With a little ingenuity, and some savvy marketing…

I’m going to be in high demand.

Because I know what this reminds me of now.


That’s right.

I’m now in possession of a lethal weapon of the G-Spot kind.

Broken, crippled hand?!


SEXYTIME FINGER OF FUN is more like it!

Now available for party rentals.

Inquire within.

That’s what she said.