Buck Tries a Cage Fight and Discovers Time Travel

There comes a time in every male's life that he must journey from childhood to manhood. While everyone enters "adulthood" at 18, it usually takes a special event to truly make a man a man. That day came to me when I had decided to take my decade of martial arts experience, and test it out in an amateur cage fight. Just a short time after my 25th birthday, I signed the paper to what would be me almost getting beaten to death. After dropping almost 20 pounds to fight at 140 lbs, and upping my training to help prepare, I felt I was ready to show everyone just how badass I was. Oh, how wrong I was.

Allow me to take you on a journey. You see, when I heard that my opponent was a very good high school wrestler, naturally I assumed that he was going to try to use his wrestling background to his advantage. I practiced my take down defenses for a few weeks, and got decent at them. My ju jutsu was good enough that I didn't have to worry too much about what would happen if/when he did take me down. With that being said, here is a timeline of events as I experienced them:

2:35 : We touch gloves, and circle. I, expertly, position myself with my back close to the cage. You know, so I can't get away from his punches. He throws a test jab, I lob my foot up towards his face, which he sees as an opening.
2:45 : I notice something rocketing towards my face.
3:08 : I wake up. I am confused. I was just standing up. How could I be on my back? I assumed we were still fighting.
3:44 : After holding on for deal life long enough to remember how this whole ju jutsu thing works, I attempt an arm bar, only to realize just how strong this son of a bitch is. So I throw weak-ass punches to the side of his hair.
4:00 : He leans back, I see that familiar rocket coming towards my face again. I decide it's a good time to fall back asleep.
4:12 : I wake up while screaming "Matte!" at the ref. FYI, matte means "wait" in Japanese, or in this instance, "God dammit, get him off of me!" The ref saves my life, and Bobby celebrates as I lay there for a second. I barely remember hearing my sensei ask me if I need help walking. I don't say anything, opting instead to just lean on him as he walks me back up the stairs.

You may have noticed there are a few gaps in my memory. That is because those times are when I stumbled upon time travel. Some may call it "being unconscious," but those people are wrong. Literally the only thing that kept this fight going for longer than 30 seconds is the fact that, after he punched my eyes into the back of my skull, I fell against the cage, thus was "able" to "stand" for a little bit longer. Until I went for a expertly executed throw, which landed me on my back. So scientists, listen up. The secret to time travel is having someone try to put their fist through your head. Surprised it hadn't been thought of before.

So yeah. That is my attempt at a cage fight. After gaining what little composure I had back, I congratulated Bobby on his victory, and then we all went to eat at Hardie's. For some reason, the people working the counter that night looked at me really weird. For the life of me, I can't imagine why.

My Battle with the Tripple Cheese Hot Dog

 Here is a tale of what happens when someone who is lactose-intolerant and doesn't agree much with beef/pork products eats something that has lots of both.

Earlier this year, my buddy Matt and I went to Kansas City to pick up Nancy from the air port. We get her, and offer to go to the mall. Since she's been sitting in an airplane all day, she accepts.

We get there, and mostly just wander around. Before we leave we decide to get something to eat, so we go to the mall cafeteria. I look around, examining my options, and notice that one stand is selling foot long hotdogs with three different cheeses on them. "Well, that just sounds DELICIOUS!" I think to myself. So I get it, and eat it quickly, as I am quite hungry. Matt and Nancy finish, and we head back home.

About 15 minutes later, I realize the error of my decision. I inform the car that stopping by a gas station would be a good idea for everyone involved. So we stop by the nearest Casey's and I casually meander to the bathroom. I set about doing my business, and a couple of minutes later, someone is pounding on the door. He sounds to be in quite a hurry. I tell him it'll be a few minutes, which just leads to him pounding harder, as if I couldn't hear him the first time. So I give in, and let him have the bathroom. "Sure, I'll be able to make it until we get home." Oh, how wrong I was.

After about another 20 minutes on the road, my bowels have reached Red Alert. I politely inform the car that if we don't pull over again soon, a horrible act of unholy vengeance will visit the interior. Luckily, we are pulling into Cameron. More luckilier, there is a hotel near. I ask if they wouldn't mind enjoying the scenery of the outside while I go and give birth to the Antichrist. They accept my offer.

I get inside the hotel, spot their lobby bathroom, and basically just explode. I won't give every single detail, but I will tell the after affects. By the time I was done, I was sweating from head to toe, my stomach was cramping, my mouth was watering for some reason (it did smell pretty tasty in there, I have to admit), my eyes were watering, and the tip of my penis hurt. That last part is what troubled me the most. It makes no sense to me. But I digress. After about 45 minutes of unbridled terror, I am able to walk away, feeling like an entirely new person. I've never had a religious experience, but if it's anything like that, I understood, at that moment, why people enjoy them. I exit the hotel while trying not to make eye contact with the clerk, enter the car, and enjoy the rest of the ride home.

The moral of my story is: If you know you can't handle certain food products, don't eat them before embarking on an hour plus car ride. Although, that triple cheese hot dog was so damn good. I can see myself making that mistake again.