Now accepting gas money. And money for the bus to get there.
Oh jeez, it hasn't even been a month yet! You guys realize I'm about to catch up with current events? And I'll have NOTHING to write about after that, with the exception of the occasional zany things? You should be thanking me for prolonging this so.
Get your friends to spar with your dad. That should be lulz-worthy!
MBG you've betrayed the LAWL!
Originally Posted by MrBadGuy
If you were to take to writing Bulldinke fiction, you would be lauded here. Lack of actual material is therefore no reason to deny us moar!!
Forever Fat II Part Two Act One: Forces of Victory
I start off frequenting just the BJJ classes, to test the waters. A few days after having joined, I meet Evil Twin. Now, evil twin is not evil by any standard, other than by virtue of being extremely similar to myself. We're the exact same rank, same size and weight, build, penis size, and we even have similar jobs. He and I have many epic battles, and good times are generally had.
After becoming a little more confident, I gathered all the courage and gutsiness I could muster and adventured into the kickboxing class. Since my previous blunders at the Houston Throwdown, I knew I needed something like this. My striking was subpar at best, and this would surely remedy that situation.
The composition of the class is completely different, and taught by a different person than the BJJ classes. I get to start over on being weirdo-awkward-guy-no-one-wants-to-work-or-spar-with-but-they-begrudgingly-have-to-when-their-friends-pair-up-with-someone-else, but I've been the WAGNOWTWOSWBTBHTWTFPUWSE so many times I know how to play my role.
We start off doing combinations while our partner holds the pads. It becomes apparent that laying on the ground and scuttling about isn't that great of a cardio work out, and I'm gasping like a fish being strangled out of water. We continue doing combinations for a good period of the class, and then we move on to sparring.
I shove in my mouth piece, that tastes a little weird after having been fermenting with my boxing gloves and wraps for a few months. I know that if I've already tasted it its too late to wash it off, but I do so anyway.
My first partner forgot his mouth piece, so it was pulled punching. He was very nice, and helpful, and gave me tips that I put into use that very same night. I made a mental note to barnacle on to this man next class.
My second partner is a tiny fireplug of a man. He's shorter than I am, which is saying something. The instructor tells me to try and work him on the end of my punches, and tells him it is a necessity to try and close the distance. I work my advice while he works his; his tiny wittle arms miss my face and I just try to regain the feeling of a good jab. He punches again, I step back, ready to pepper him, and THWACK. Right straight to the forehead. It doesn't hurt, but it was surprising. I know I haven't landed anything that hard on him, and it certainly makes me realize how much work I need.
We switch again, and this time I'm paired up with one of the more advanced students in the class. Thus far, I have thrown 0 kicks in sparring. I, in my stubborn, naive thought pattern, thought that I could get by with boxing principles in a kickboxing class. This guy was apparently put on this earth not only to beat my ass, but to show me that kicks are amazing. He said he came from a Shotokan background, so I didn't know what to expect other than elusiveness.
He kicked me unmercifully. I landed 0 punches, and was his kicking bag for 5 minutes. The one time I managed to put him in a corner, he leaned against the wall and front kicked me in the gut, and it took all of my manliness and pride not to weep like that time Uncle Gropey got a little too friendly.
He got me with roundhouses, front kicks, spinning back kicks, jumping spinning back kicks, side kicks, any sort of kick you can think of, he landed, and hard. There was no point sparring in his kicks, and if he wasn't holding back, god knows how I would've faired. I abandon my boxing only approach to life; I have been forcibly shown that its called "kicking ass" for a reason.
The class finishes with a series of stations, with medicine balls, kettle bells, pads, bags, and a whole mess of other things. I've lost all feeling in my body. After the finishing ab work out, I stumble into my car. The next morning my midsection looks like a panda orgy. But thats alright.
Next time, Forever Fat II Part Two Act Two: Illumination
That could go very bad. I've been
Originally Posted by Gbemi
cursed blessed with interesting stories to write about. I don't know if I could create interesting things, and it could easily turn all crappy. I thank you for the vote of confidence, though.
I look forward to kicking you soon.
Isn't "panda orgy" a contradiction in terms?
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