Tuesday, May 18, 2010

How Not To Be a Fucktard

Sunday morning, as I stood in the living room lifting up the right sleeve (leg? leg-sleeve?) of my shorts to show Teh 'Bride the bruise on my @$$-cheek1 (@$$-cheek inspection is just one of our usual Sunday Morning rituals; what do the rest of you do? Pffttt! Go to church and worship Jebus or something?), I realized just how lucky I was to've emerged with nothing worse than a dislocated shoulder as a result of that fall I took last Thursday.

On my right side, I have bruises on my upper kankle, mid-thigh, hip, and @$$-cheek (Teh 'Bride confirmed for me that the @$$-cheek is the nastiest-looking area; I assume she was talking about the bruise, but it may've been just A General Observation About Teh State of My @$$), and since I fell with sufficient force to dislocate my fucking shoulder, any one of those bruises could just have easily been a bone-break. There were a couple of stupid things I did to cause myself to fall, and I should certainly run smarter in the future; but the stupidest thing I did was to run with neither i.d. nor means of communication (i.e., cell phone) on my person.

I have on more occasions than I can count gone to runners' blogs and had to stifle a few snorts of derision and tamp down a few mental pfftttts as I read the bloggers' apparently serious recommendations that one wear nothing but tech material or this or that lighter equipment in races because it will improve your running time. You read some fucktarded stuff on running blogs, but this is among the most fucktarded2, in my estimation: "I'd've PR'd in that 5k if only I'd worn my tech shirt instead of that cotton one!1! As it is, I missed my PR by a mere 2 and a half minutes." Well, I'm not fucktarded enough to think tech shirts are going to make an appreciable difference for someone of my skill level, nor would I be persuaded to throw out my cotton duds for an all-tech wardrobe even if I were somewhow convinced it would "make me faster" because, frankly, running two seconds faster just doesn't matter to me all that much, and by "all that much" I mean "not at all".

My point here, besides lobbing gratuitous insults are other unnamed straw man bloggers (which is really an end in itself), is to point out that I wasn't running without my cell phone to "run lighter", because I don't care how heavy I am when I run. In fact, since the reason I run is for my health, the heavier the better, really, if you think about it ... since heavier means a tougher workout3. I just wasn't bothering to take it. Which is downright fucktarded. Because what if I had broken my leg at 5:30 in the morning behind the school? I'd've had to lie there, presumably in great pain, for at least a couple of hours, waiting for Lunch Lady Doris to show up that morning with the Industrial-Sized Barrels of Horse Testicles and Pig Anuses for the kids' lunchtime sloppy joes.

I have managed to live for 50 years without breaking my leg or my @$$4, and I'd like to keep that record intact until the day I die, which I hope is a long time from now. But there are no guarantees that I won't fall again. In fact, it's closer to a guarantee that I will. And so for my own sake and the sake of my family, I should always carry my charged up cell phone.

I start physical therapy for my shoulder on Monday.
I neither hate nor love birthdays. I don't expect anything on my birthday. The only thing I wanted to do on my birthday was have a late lunch at a nice little nearby pub along the Delaware, the Inn of the Hawke, where they have Chimay and Fuller's ESB on tap. And we did that.

What I didn't know was that Ian and Teh 'Bride were setting up a special exercise area in the garage for me.

I knew they were up to something in there, but I basically thought my "gift" was going to be a massive de-piling of the garage; which would have been nice in and of itself.

Instead, they showed me this:

There's Morrissey and my green yoga mat and my own iPod speaker station (or whatever you want to call it) and those big rectangular things behind it all are shelves where I store my beer to let it condition; except now, as you can see, the shelving has a button-up cloth covering (you need to keep beer in the dark as it conditions). What you can't see is all the exercise equipment (stretch bands, etc.) they bought me, too.
 And here's Ian acting like a goofball in my new workout area.

I know, it's just a garage. But there's actually way more room for me in there than in the basement because ... PILES!1!
1 Calm down, ladies! The bruise is the most interesting thing about my @$$-cheek, because, as I've said on numerous occasions, I'm an Irishman and so therefore there's really not much going on back there, cheek-wise. With Irishmen, the good stuff is all upfront, where God intended.

Once the bruise is gone, looking at my @$$ will once again be so boringly painful to the afflicted observer that it will re-qualify as a form of cruel and unusual punishment. Although, to give my @$$ its propz, it is uniformly hairy, as are my legs; none of that mangy, patchy look you get with some dudes' leg and @$$-al areas.

Or so I'm told.

2 It is among the most fucktarded, but it is not the most fucktarded ; because nothing will beat this here one - variants of which you read just all the time on running blogs - for sheer unadulterated fucktardedness:

"I was running and I heard something go keee-rack in my foot and now I can't walk much less run on it and rather than go to someone who is trained at diagnosing and fixing injuries - you know ... a doctor? - I  thought I would just blog about it and ask the opinion of a bunch of anonymous Interwebs weirdos, i.e., you people ... has your foot ever gone keee-rack - not crack, mind you; but keee-rack - and then you couldn't walk on it and if so what did it turn out to be because if yours sounded like mine, I just have to have the same thing you had, right? It just stands to reason. Also, which blogger did you go to to diagnose your injury? And did you let that same blogger perform surgery, or did you go to a different blogger for your surgery?"

3 To be totally honest, of course, the obverse of "lighter clothing doesn't really make all that much difference in speed" has to be "4 ounces of cell phone isn't going to be that much of a heavier workout; as in, not at all heavier, really." Because you'd have to be a real fucktard to think it would.

4 In either sense of that phrase. "That phrase" being "break [one's] @$$". Because people will typically say, "I broke my @$$ at work today", and I'll be all: "I didn't. Why did you? Are you incompetent at what you do? Is your job really all that important, or do you just enjoy pretending it is? Does your job involve keeping the launch codes safe yet ever-at-the-ready in case we're attacked? Probably not, but even if it does, do you really need to break your @$$ to do it competently? Personally, I want the launch codes in the hands of someone who can handle them without having to break his @$$ to do so. I mean, yes, we all know those groceries aren't going to bag themselves, but even if you don't do it, Bag Boy, I'm sure one of the other baggers will. (And make sure you put the n*ts in a separate n*ts@ck, amateur!)"

Also, I've never broken my @$$ in the literal sense of breaking an @$$-bone.


  1. Pant leg.

    It would be your pant leg you lifted to show poor TB your flat and now discolored ass.

  2. PS - What an awesome & thoughtful birthday present from TB & Ian!

  3. That is a great gift from Ian and Teh Bride. I do miss having a basement where I could put exercise stuff.

  4. Is there going to be a test on how not to be a fucktard and, if so, will you be grading on a curve (because I'm not taking many notes)?

    I'm imagining how a cotton shirt could mean 2 minutes in a 5K: XXXXXL shirt on a S guy, tripping him repeatedly, getting soaking wet with blood and thus chafing. Then heat exhaustion from trying to run in a wet cocoon.

  5. The blog title still seems too much like the Wayan's awful (even for them) "Don't Be a Menace to South Central While Drinking Your Juice in the Hood."

    "Underblog" is my suggestion.

  6. I sincerely hope you bow down and kiss Teh Bride's saintly, pure as the driven fucking snow feet every goddamn day.

    Do singing bluebirds land on her shoulder when she walks in the park? Just curious

    Seriously dude, you WAY lucked out. That is a amazingly thoughtful gift.

    As for this:
    "Although, to give my @$$ its propz, it is uniformly hairy, as are my legs; none of that mangy, patchy look you get with some dudes' leg and @$$-al areas."

    Gosh, thanks for that cerebral cortex melting image.

    Guarding the nuclear warhead launch codes is not such a tough job. I mean, it is not like they even use the damn things. I have them around here somewhere. I am not sure how one would break their "assbone" doing it (For the record, there is no "assbone". Your bony ass, notwithstanding)

  7. OMG, I have a new pastime: following the comments that shoot between Glaven Q., RBR, and Steve Q.

  8. Occupational hazard. You run so much that your ass virtually disappears, putting you at risk for more serious injury or discomfort due to lack of padding in the assular region.

    See also: sitting in uncomfortable seats for long periods of time; doing it doggy style (effect compounded when one skinny runner type is doing it with another skinny runner type. I'm just sayin').

  9. Re: Your comment on SQ's blog

    *flips you the bird*

    Again, pervo, not an offer.

  10. There's a guy (John Kline) who got elected to office here in Minnesota - a Republican, no less - whose campaign ads mentioned that he carried the nuclear "football" for both Clinton and one of the Bushes.

    My thought? If we need a guy whose qualifications are "can carry a briefcase," then I'll consider voting for him.

    Psyche, you don't even know where the masturbating bear videos are hidden in this back-and-forth!

  11. Piles?! Are you a HOARDER?! Not to be confused with WHOO-ER.

  12. How long will it take before that exercise "machine" is used for drying laundry as it's primary function (like most households)?

    Isn't the color of running clothes the most important attribute?