don’t be a jerk

 
I take my muay thai lessons at the Legends MMA gym in Hollywood. One of the instructors, Toby, was fighting in Upland on Saturday, so I made the 50 mile drive to go watch, mainly because I’ve never seen a live Mixed Martial Arts event before.

It was pretty crazy. Lot of ghetto folks there, but there was beer, and a cage, and guys trying to hurt each other so it was cool. I’ll tell ya, seeing these events on TV (such as the UFC) gives you a better view and camera angle, but you can’t get the visceral experience unless you’re there. You can hear and feel every punch and slam that lands.

I’ve always felt that MMA is the ultimate sport competition between two people. I appreciate good team sports and what they represent, but it’s not like the one on one battle of skills and wills in a no-holds-barred fight.

Boxing is cool, I guess, but I never liked the whole, “you’re not allowed to punch the guy when he’s on the ground” thing. That’s bullshit. That’s not a real fight.

And I firmly believe that sports like tennis would be far more entertaining if the players were allowed to injure each other during the matches.

* * *

Here is a picture of Ed O’Neill with his friend, Stuffed Husky:

 

Here is a picture of Ed O’Neill after I accidentally soaked him in the shower:

 

Here is a picture of Ed after I’ve burst into the room at 3am, flipped on the light, and stuck a camera in his face:

 

That, ladies and gentlemen, is the parrot equivalent of, “Seriously, what the fuck is your problem, dude?” Check out how puffy he is.

Some may find my actions to be unnecessary and cruel, but I firmly believe that spending almost 2 grand on an animal that consistently wakes your ass up at 7am gives you license to mess with him on occasion.

* * *

Today, right outside the Motor Ave. branch of the Post Office, I backed my van into the passenger side door of an old red Beemer. The worst part was there was a 6-year-old girl sitting in the passenger seat.

But the reason I backed into it was because the psycho dad that was driving the Beemer had himself sped backwards into the same spot while trying to get to one of the blue mailboxes.

Psycho dad had a very distinct pattern painted on his forehead that I’ve seen before on one of the Indian grad students at work. He got out and went apeshit on me. Luckily there was a guy in another car who (after we approached him) obviously did not want to get involved, but did firmly remark that psycho dad did “back up like a madman.”

Psycho dad continued to go apeshit on me. I calmly asked if his daughter was alright. She was fine. He continued to go apeshit on me. Finally I had had enough and said that I was done talking to him and started to call the police. At that point he calmed down and told me that this was my lucky day because he was in a hurry and that he was willing to walk away. So we got in our cars and went our separate ways.

Funny thing is, despite my initial adrenaline rush, I never really got that angry or annoyed. Maybe because I knew pretty certainly that I wasn’t at fault. I’m glad the girl was okay. I feel bad that she’s being raised by a douche.