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Sunday, June 19, 2005

Today at Krav Maga 

I was sitting on the bench outside the classroom waiting for my punch bag class to start when I overheard the two guys next to me. There was no need to eavesdrop because the one guy doing most of the talking was broadcasting his voice in a way that means he is holding forth and that what he is sasaying is meant for everyone in the room.

Guy 1: You’re looking awfully coordinated with your black and red shirt and your black and red shoes. Is that on purpose?

Guy 2: Yeah! (the homosexual implications of this statement escaping him) Black and red are pretty much my favorite colors. My car out there – see it? The Porsche? It’s black and red also. Everything I own is black and red. Even my boat. Did I tell you I got a boat? Remember on Miami Vice? It’s just like the one on that show, the one that what’s-his-face used to have.

Guy 1: Really? What do you call it?

Guy 2: It’s The Genocide.

Guy 1: The Genocide?

Guy 2: Yeah. My ex-girlfriend’s name is Jenna, so I named it The Jennacide after that bitch. Heh-heh. But in these P.C. times you have to be careful so I made the name real small. (like my penis)

Jenna, how could you have let this one go? What a keeper. He then got up and I saw that he was 5’2. I felt a little stab of pity at his sad efforts at overcompensation but then as he swaggered out past me I thought, “Thank you for giving me the visual of your face to put on the punch bag as I pummel it for the next hour. It should definitely increase my level of intensity, you twerp.”

I thought Krav Maga would be a healthy way to release some stress and aggression, but at times I worry that instead it might tap into some bottomless reservoir of rage that will come spewing forth in this uncontrollable gush like at Spindletop. In any case, it will give me a fighting chance if some homicidal patron sneaks up behind me in the stacks and puts his hands around my throat.

Comments:
What a putz! He reminds me of my boss.
 
Ooh, darn. I only know what to do with psychos coming at me from the front!
 
What is the female equivalent of overcompensation for sexual insufficency?
 
Dating a tool like her ex-boyfriend.
 
And by her I mean Jenna.
 
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