After the Vibram purchase I received my copy of the Spartan Warrior Workout. This program is a 30-day cycle of warrior training that results in me looking like one of the actors from 300. I just hope it's not the guy with the hump in his back. Plus, I know I can't grow a beard...unless you count my back. Either way, tomorrow I move from Spartacus to the Spartan challenge. Hopefully I will graduate to Ghurka fighter, then Jean-Claude Van Damme, then Sub-Zero from Mortal Kombat. Apparently after the Sub-Zero workout when someone says, "Finish Him!" your next punch shatters their body. Sweet!
Needless to say, this is a lot of working out. I'm not saying this to make the ladies drool because I know they already are; I'm merely laying out my journey in Becoming Superfly. Speaking of being Superfly, I know many of you have seen the pics on Facebook of my new motorcycle. I just started reading the book No Angel. It's about an ATF agent that goes undercover in the Hell's Angel's. It's a gripping story, and its true! Not that I plan on joining the Hell's Angels, quite the contrary. I'm starting my own MC (Motorcycle Club for all you less macho folks). My MC will be the most dangerous that ever roared down your streets. I'm naming us "Pop-Tarts and Kitten Farts." Why? Because we get better when the heat is on and even when we smell bad we're just so damn cute. Lock up your families.
Big shout out to my best friend, Chris Rosner. For your birthday I just moved you up in Google searches. Chris and I have been friends since way back when we were trying to make it out alive in south central Grand Island. He had the fastest bike in the neighborhood but never let me ride it. So one day we were playing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles by a sewer when Chris says, "watch me." This is still one of my favorite lines because you absolutely always have to watch what comes next. So I turn and he yells, "Cowabunga" and tries to jump in the sewer. It was awesome! The agility and the prowess was unmatched. As was the crunch of his elbow on the concrete. His arm split to the bone and he started to bleed. It's one of those few times in life when we didn't know whether or not to laugh. He told me to get help and I ran to our bikes. There they were, parked next to each other in perfect form. Except the clouds had parted and a shining beam of light from God himself shone down upon Chris' bike. The boy needed help, and fast. I took his bike and rode home to get my parents. I only lived 6 houses down but there were several curbs I had to drive off of first followed by an attempted wheelie. Eventually I got home and my dad got Chris and he had to go to the hospital. I "watched" his bike the whole time. Happy birthday, pal!
From a Cave,