Things about me....

Some tidbits about me you might not know, and will undoubtedly want to un-know. Readysetgo!

- I hate Joe Francis. Like, I really hate him. You've no doubt heard about him and some of his more recent litigious exploits, but he's most "famous" (read: infamous) for creating the Girls Gone Wild debacle.

Don't get it twisted, playa. I'm not jealous of him... Not even close. Any idiot with a camera and a couple of wine coolers can get a naïve, unsuspecting 18 year old to take her top off. Not difficult. No sir. There are literally a plethora of reasons for one to hate this individual, but I have a very specific reason. You see, when I used to work the grave yard shift a good portion of my night was spent watching tv. More specifically, I spent an exorbitant amount of time watching cartoons.

Did you know that at 4 am, comedy central stops playing regular programming and begins airing infomercials? Did you also know that, coincidentally, Girls Gone Wild infomercials play at around the same time. Actually, they play at the exact same time. Now, I'm rational enough to realize that it's not Joe Francis' fault that stations stop airing programming that late/early. It's clearly not a smart financial move to air shows that no one's going to watch. Instead, they'll accept money to air infomercials that peddle smut and crap.

No, it's not his fault that they air GGW infomercials at 4am... but it is his fault for being born and subsequently creating that monstrosity.  Burn in Hell, Joe Francis.  Burn in Hell.  Moving on. 

- I've never broken a bone... that I know of. I typically accidentally hurt myself. A lot. I also don't like to go to the hospital. It's quite possible that I may have some small fractures that have gone untreated. I'm fairly confident that one of my knuckles is horribly damaged, but again... once it stops hurting, it's healed in my mind.  Don't judge me. I'm a penis equipped human, and thus have the "tough it out, walk it off" instinct ingrained into my dna. Rubbing dirt on it helps.

- I wrestled in high school. Yep. Varsity, 145 lbs. Yes, I actually weighed 145 lbs at one point. I also had a 6 pack you could wash your unmentionables on... but that was then. I wasn't half bad either. I pinned some weiner kid in 37 seconds once, which was my best pin by far. Also, I was completely miserable. It was a pretty sure bet that at any given tournament I was going to have to lose a few pounds, as I hovered pretty consistently between 148 and 150 lbs.


How'd I drop this weight, you ask? Why, the good old fashioned way... sweating it out. I'd don the old sweatsuit and just run for extended periods of time. I'd always make the weight, but it was completely grueling. I remember one tourney in particular where I dropped four pounds in 2 to 3 hours. Looking back, I have no idea what I was thinking. Not to mention that I had to be very vigilant about what I ate. Pizza and burgers were like a wet dream for me at this point in my life, and soda was quickly becoming a fading memory for me. And for what? Nothing. Nobody thought I was cool or tough. I was just ripped and hungry. Plus, I felt kind of gay sometimes...


This is also where I sustained the ligament damage in my right arm, and began developing the knee problems that I still deal with today. I never had balls in my face though, and I wouldn't tell you if I had. Stupid Wrasslin'. Be smart kids... just do drugs instead.

 I guess what I'm trying to say is... I should have gone to college.