RSS Feed

Posts Tagged ‘guns’

  1. I Am A Sore Idiot

    October 25, 2013 by C.

    My hands are wicked now...

    My hands are wicked now…

     

     

     

     

     

    As some of you know, I am one half of an internet sports radio talk show.  The show is called, “In the Game with Coco and the Canuck”. You can find old shows here if you are interested in listening…

    http://www.blogtalkradio.com/inthegame

     

    I had an idea of trying something new and recording audio for our radio show. I talked the Canuck into doing some training in Krav Maga.

    For those of you that are unsure what that is, let me share a little of the history with you. Krav Maga is a self-defense training started back in the 1930’s by Imi Lichtenfeld. It focuses on real world situations in which you use brutal counter attacks to get out of bad situations. Krav Maga is used mainly by Israeli Defense Forces. They are big on teaching you to avoid confrontation at all costs because basically your hands are lethal weapons and you could kill someone if you wanted to. How freaking cool is that???

    We met with our instructor and got right into learning some great moves to get out of all sorts of situations. Held up at gunpoint? Not a problem. Someone coming at you swinging a bat? Piece of cake. Then we moved to the zombie chase.

    Now, I am all about zombies, so of course I was pretty excited. Then the rules were explained. You stayed in a square area of the workout mat. If you stepped out you were dead. Three people coming at you constantly and you had to physically move them out of your way, while continuously moving around the mat in circles. If you went through the middle, you were zombie dinner. One person also had on a punching bag and when they were in front of you, you punched the bag to get them away from you. I know it doesn’t sound like much but this was the most exercise I have had since I was 7 and playing soccer at the Y.

    This was pretty much non-stop. When you weren’t being chased, you were the chaser. My heart was sending my brain messages like, “Hey, what is going on out there??? If you want to see your next birthday you will stop this nonsense right now!”

    I left class a hobbled and sweaty mess. I was still gulping to get some air into my lungs. I went home and collapsed.

    When I woke up the next day the first thing I noticed was I could not move either one of my thumbs without severe pain. Who has ever heard of thumbs being un-conditioned??? Apparently, I need to do more texting on a regular basis and whip them into shape. I couldn’t lift my arms to my head to shampoo my nasty hair. My knees were hurting from all the kicks I whipped out at my attackers. Basically, I should be in one of those electric motorized wheelchairs that I can control with my teeth because my mouth is only part of my body not in pain.

    The Canuck was awesome at all of this and wants to start paying to take the lessons two nights a week. I cannot even imagine doing this once a year. I have offered to try to get our office to take part in a daily zombie chase so we get in some cardio, but he seems to want more than that for some reason. All of this even after I accidentally whacked him in his privates ( Maybe it was an accident and maybe he should stop talking so much crap about my favorite Steeler player, Troy Polamalu, on our radio show).  Regardless, I think he will have to find a Krav Maga partner in much better shape to join him.

    Almost a week has passed and I am still really sore. I was sitting in my recliner last night wondering to myself, whose bright idea was this? Oh yea, it was mine. I am such an idiot sometimes.


  2. Trading TVs For Guns

    July 25, 2012 by C.

    What a thing of beauty!

     

     

    This is my TV. As you can see it is the size of a Toyota Prius. It took four men to get it into my house when I moved back to Missouri. I bought her (yes, my TV is a she and her name is Tara P. Telly) in 2004 from Best Buy and paid a fortune for it.

    My living room is quite small and I felt it might be time to act like an adult and buy something called a couch. It is hard to seat six people on my two theater chairs. It was time to sell Tara.

    So I put an ad on Facebook. No one responded (because most of my friends have seen this monster up close and have no desire to move it). I then listed it on Craigslist. I had a couple of guys respond and make appointments to see her, but they never showed up. But the other night was my best offer yet.

     

    ** CRAIGSLIST ADVISORY — AVOID SCAMS BY DEALING LOCALLY
    ** Avoid: wiring money, cross-border deals, work-at-home
    ** Beware: cashier checks, money orders, escrow, shipping
    ** More Info: http://www.craigslist.org/about/scams

    Would you be interested in trading a gun for the TV

    http://joplin.craigslist.org/ele/

     

    Would I be interested in trading a gun for my TV???? How did he know I am obsessed with weaponry right now? It is like he was reading my mind. I seriously had to consider this offer for a moment. If this man had said to trade her for a crossbow it would have been a done deal, people. Guns still make me a little nervous. So I replied.

    “No thanks! Guns kill people. Got a crossbow???????????”

    For some reason I never heard from him again.

    My co-worker, Kori, has sold my TV for me (the reward for her hard work… she is now a huge internet star thanks to me mentioning her name…you’re welcome). The new owner will come pick her up next week. I must admit I am very sad about this. Tara and I have been through a bunch of things together…three Pittsburgh Steelers Super Bowl trips, Adam Lambert performing on American Idol, True Blood marathons and epic video game parties…just to name a few. She will be missed.

    This will hopefully be her replacement:

    What’s my name, bitches???

     

    That is an 80 inch TV that will hang on the wall so I can still have a giant TV and a couch. Yep, I am damn smart.

     

    So he/she needs a name. Let’s have a contest. You submit your name suggestions and I pick a winner. A prize you ask???

    You are picking the name of my 2nd child. Isn’t that enough??

     

     

    Enhanced by Zemanta

  3. Why I Am Still Scared of My Mother

    June 8, 2012 by C.

     

     

     I was raised in our family restaurant. One of these days, when I can sit down and focus on those years, I would bet I have enough stories to fill at least three books.  There was always something going on.

     This is one of my favorite stories. It is involves my mom and grandfather during one of their more insane moments.

     You would be surprised to know how often customers walk out without paying their bill. Occasionally, it would be someone who sincerely just forgot and those are easy to remedy fairly quickly.

    Unfortunately the majority of people are trying to get a free meal. We pretty much considered these people scum of the earth. I am not talking about a homeless person that is starving…we would always take care of those folks and not expect a dime. It is the people who come in and bring a group with them, order the biggest steaks on the menu and drink more than Lindsay Lohan could in a week.

    They were sly. One would go to the bathroom, then the second person. Finally the last person would get up and sneak out at our busiest moments. It was these people that we would chase after. Chasing after “walkers” was one of my favorite things about working in our restaurant.

    A waitress would run back to the kitchen and scream, “Walkers! We have walkers going out the back!”

    Everyone and I mean everyone would ensue pursuit out the back door. But the day this particular incident happened, my mom and grandfather were the first two to discover this guy had walked and he was running. My mom takes off after him with my grandfather in hot pursuit. The man hits the back door and is in a full on sprint. They know they will never ever catch him and that just won’t do. So my grandfather screams, “Shoot him! Just shoot his ass!”

    To which my mother replies, “I’ve got the gun!”

    We didn’t even keep a gun on the property. The man dropped to his knees, putting his hands behind his head and started whimpering, “Oh my GOD! Oh my GOD! Please don’t shoot me, lady!”

    By this time the entire staff has surrounded him on the parking lot and he sees they don’t have a gun. To say the man was a little angry is a huge understatement.

    During his barrage of profanities, my mother lost her temper and slapped the man in the face. Hard.

    “Oh lady, you are gonna pay for that. I am going to have the police arrest you when they get here.”

    “Really? How many witnesses do you think we have here that will back up your story? Hmmm…I don’t see any. I seriously doubt they will believe such a thing from a man who just stole from a restaurant.”

    The police arrived and the man tried to have them haul my mom off too, but of course they didn’t listen to him. As my mom and grandpa were walking back into the restaurant, my grandpa looked at my mom and said, “You know, this is supposed to be fun. I think you might be taking this a little too seriously. Try to relax and have more fun with the next one.”