Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Get well soon, Ken-Yon!

The Calgary Stampeders are losing their receiver temporarily due to injury. In Friday's game against the B.C Lions, Ken-Yon Rambo suffered a leg injury. Rambo had to leave the game late in the first quarter after a bold offensive move by Lions linebacker Javier Glatt. Rambo has a surgery planned that will clean out his knee joint and reattach his anterior cruciate ligament.

In an attempt to bring more interest to my football reporting, I've decided to include the banter between the players recorded on the overhead microphones in this story. The following was recorded in the moments immediately after Rambo's injury.

Lookout! He's packin' heat!
That's a tackling dummy.
Dummies don't shoot.
He must be here!
We've gotta kill that guy!
Go get him!
You have to find him first, Barnes!
Hayes, Smythe, get over here! Green, cover me, now!
Oh my leg! Hayes, make a tourniquet!
We've gotta get him to a doctor! - And fast!
Anyone see a first aid kit?
It's still in my locker.
Where did that maniac get the gun?
From Olson.
Doesn't matter. He's out of bullets.
What do you mean?
That mascot wasn't killed by a bullet.
Ken-Yon, open your eyes. You can't fall asleep.
Open the tourniquet. Okay. Do it up again.
We've got this guy. He's got no bullets.
He never should have killed our cheerleading squad.
Get that guy. Now!
OK. Everybody take a knee and listen up.He's ours.
We'll walk over there slowly. Don't let him stop you.
Don't let the fear get you.
Let's go get our prey.
Our prey? We're the prey!

Rambo gained 179 yards this season but has yet to score a touchdown.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

With friends like these.

A "friend" of mine has been illegally smuggling black-footed Ibérico hogs from Spain via medium-sized aircraft. I took this picture with my phone. These Iberian wild boar descendants feed mostly on acorns in their designated oak forests. I agreed to help this "friend" unload 50 hogs from his airplane last month in hopes that he'd reduce the $2000 price tag. That may seem like a lot to pay for a pig. But for an athlete like myself, consuming one of the only breeds of pig that contains Omega-3 (ω−3) fatty acids is of utmost importance. That carbon-carbon double bond three down from the methyl end of the fatty acid is what my muscles want, and it's what they get. Plus, my doctor says I simply must stop snorting powdered baby formula. That sucks, because I think it was finally starting to work. I've tried eating fish but I fear that it may hinder my entrance into certain bodybuilding competitions due to exceeding the maximum permissible acumen. So I drove several hours to his huge property that actually has a long, but run down airstrip on it, among barns and a pretty run down house, all being swarmed by grass and weeds. He was 20 minutes late when I saw an airplane approach in the distance. I was a little nervous being parked at the end of the airstrip when he came in for the landing. That nervous feeling was replaced by a fear that felt like an egg in the back of my throat. He eventually opened the door and I angrily asked him what the heck he thought he was doing.

He replied stupidly. "What?" He's such a redneck. I hate him.

"You're illegally smuggling pigs and you paint your plane like that?"

"That's to get them off the scent. The cops would never suspect pig smuggling in a airplane painted like this! Anyway, it came that way, and it was cheaper because of it."

"I'm not helping you again. You're begging for people to ask questions."

So I helped him unload the cargo and I gave him $1500 for a pig. I brought it home and have been eating it here and there for a few weeks now. I don't know if he hit some turbulence up there or something, but the meat tastes pretty bruised or something. It's kind of like really gamey bacon. And I've felt pretty nauseous for a few days now too, so I haven't been able to work these fatty acids into my muscles either. Can someone get physically sick from buyers remorse?


Tuesday, August 18, 2009

The Worlds Most Perfectly Developed Man

Remember this?
On my travels, I met Herc, Charles Atlas' son. I went to see why Charles hadn't been answering my letters. Turns out he died in 1972. Herc was not impressed. Long Beach NY was nice. Didn't go to New York city at this time. It seems like it would be boring. I just stayed on the beach and played volleyball and lifted weights, in spite of Atlas' regimen. Nobody kicked sand in my face.

Tour of Duty

While touring the great nation of America, I noticed a few things.

1. Americans are better than Canadians and they deserve to win at hockey games. On one of my visits to sports bars, myself and another gentleman discussed this topic at length, and he convinced me of this fact. However, I was quite inebriated, and now I can't remember the conversation at all.
2. Americans "take it to the next level." Give an American group something moderately interesting, like football, and they'll make it a mouth-frothing object of zealotry. Just compare 1890s football to that of today, and tell me they don't know how to extreme-ify something. I attended 116 football games in the 3 months I was away. It was totally worth selling my platform tennis court and plasma.
3. Carrying a gun around isn't just okay, it's cool. This isn't an an American thing, it's just something I realized while I was on the road. Maybe I'll buy one.
4. I am naturally gifted at Pickleball. But I'm not surprised.

In a short time, I'll be heading to the Hickory Nut Gorge Olympiad 2009 at Lake Lure, North Carolina. Here's a description from the website:
"This family-friendly event is schedule for August 27-30 and includes a 5-Mile Dam Run, a regionally-ranked triathlon sprint, and a race to the top of Chimney Rock Park, dragon boat racing, volleyball tournament, ski show, shag dance, fireworks, and so much more! "

What's a shag dance?

Monday, August 17, 2009

the Race Card

I've been driving my IROC-Z around the greater US since June 27th, 2009. I just got back today. You see, I went to my Mecca: the International Race of Champions. At least I thought it was going to be a religious experience. I thought it would be a magical journey through a mystical land of 1985 IROC-Z Camaros with upgraded suspensions, lowered springs, huge sway bars, wicked shocks and maybe a little tuned port injection. Nope. It was a Mario Andretti brag fest, and I don't mean Bicycle Ride Across Georgia. http://www.brag.org/ Sure, Mario won IROC IV, but should he distract from the beauty of the car named after the event? "I won on road, dirt and paved ovals" I don't care, Mario. Talk to me about souping up cars, tuning up cars, hopping up cars, pimping out cars, etc. That's where the real skill is.

It was kind of a strange event, though. I don't recall such an experience in my life. And believe me, I've had an awesome, extreme life. I've done lots to brag about, including that Georgia bike thing (Dream Team Corner 2009, people!). But what happened here, is not something I'd brag about. I had just finished doing some sweet drifts in the parking lot, and was really flying off adrenaline, because I like to do the drifts where you come really, really close to bystanders. And I came to the main event, where they were honoring the man of the hour, Andretti, except I thought it was supposed to be a roast, because some of the things his nephew was saying seemed so overly sweet and sycophantic that I started to laugh. And I have a pretty loud laugh. This was a huge mistake. John, his nephew, stopped mid sentence and was squinting out at the crowd for who had laughed. I got the meanest looks from the Race 4 Riley kids I was in front of. It was pretty humiliating. I think they thought I was laughing at them. I felt like a total DNQ.