GRIFT

Actually, no -- which is weird! I am definitely sore from it at the bottom of my lats and a bit on my hip, but no bruising which was weird because the other new guy had a nasty bruise showing at the end of practice. I took to the ropes a lot quicker than he did, but standing up straight in a collar and elbow gave me a bit of trouble. It is so trained into me to try and get a wider stance so I can drive my hips from a low point for a throw or to take a leg in that situation that it will take some time for me to mentally retrain that instinct.

@9 to 5 --The New England Academy of Pro-Wrestling which used to be Killer Kowalski's.

I've always really wanted to get into a ring. As you might have guessed from the fact that I've been posting on a wrestling board for over ten years, I love pro-wrestling. When I was a kid, winter in Maine was my favorite time because my brother Dean and I could use the deep snow to powerbomb each other and hit superplexes off our post and beam fences without fear of serious injury. We set up our dad's old VHS tape recorder on a tripod in 4 feet of snow and had some of the worst matches in history. In our heads though, we were on our way to being our generations Steiners or Hardys -- the great brother and brother tag team, brother.

We had big designs on getting into wrestling while we were in college but life threw us some curve balls. Long time posters will know that during our last couple of years of school our kid sister got cancer which lead to Dean joining the army and me dropping out of college to get a job and help pay for her chemo. When she finally pulled through and Dean got out of the army and we started talking about wrestling again, my brother Dean unexpectedly passed away.

That really fucked with me. Most of my hard drinking stories and travelling happened in the years that followed and my body took a bit of beating as a result. I kind of came unmoored and while I was doing well professionally I let myself go quite a bit and closed off emotionally. Then a funny thing happened. April 6th, 2014. Wrestlemania 30. I didn't realize it until the event was over, but it had taken place exactly 4 years to the day that Dean died. I was overwhelmed with a lot of feelings -- mostly one of guilt. While I had done well for myself professionally, and traveled far and wide trying to live a big enough life for the both of us, I had ballooned up in weight and spent most of my time day dreaming about what could have been. All those, feelings of "will I look back and wonder what could have been" came creeping in and I felt like I was letting both Deano and myself down. 

In a lot of ways, that was the moment that set me on the path to today. I set a goal to drop from 240lbs to 180lbs and hit it. Then started working on my wind and building my mass back up to the 200lbs I sit at today. All the while, somewhere in the back of my head, even though I never said it out loud or shared it with anyone, making myself and Dean a promise that if I could get to 200lbs at 15% body fat that I'd at least get in a ring and see if I could make a go of it. For the first time in my life, my body is in the condition to give this a respectable shot and I am free of any obligations that would prevent me from giving this a try. I have two months off before my next job and enough of a bonus from my last campaign win to be able to make the two hour commute to attend every class they offer for the next two months.

Now, I have no illusions. My experience with sports in college and with fitness have taught me the importance of being realistic and setting incremental goals. From night one, I am probably the oldest member of the class. From here, just showing up for every class and keeping up is success. If I never wrestle a match -- so be it. But I am going to soak in the experience over the next two months and make the most of it.

AND THE JESTERS THEY FLOCK AROUND HER
AND THEY FIGHT TO WIN HER FAVORS
AND SEE WHICH ONE WILL TAKE THE QUEEN
OF THE SILVER DOLLAR
HOME.
*Triumphant horns and hollering*

It was tremendously awkward. I ended up posting pictures and documenting the whole mad experience on facebook as it happened. Should have known something was a foot when she asked me to meet her at Olive Garden.

Oh, my sweet summer child, what do you know about fear? Fear is for the winter, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep. Fear is for the long night, when the sun hides for years, and children are born and live and die all in darkness. That is the time for fear, my little lord, when the White Walkers move through the woods... Thousands of years ago, there came a night that lasted a generation. Kings froze to death in their castles, same as the shepherds in their huts, and women smothered their...

while to avoid staph and my grip strength is fucked due to the swelling around the wound which was roughly the dimensions of a quarter.

nd I got the guy in a double underhook and tossed him into a fence, goozled him to the ground, and cracked his head off the sidewalk once to get his attention before taking a full mount and waiting on the cops to show.

I am just glad Nat wasn't walking home by herself. I lost a fair amount of blood from the wound and ended up getting around 5 stitches. I took plenty of pictures for the DA for when it gets to that. The biggest drag is that this will keep me out of the gym for a...

I am good. Last night was a friend's going away party from my company.

Apparentaly, while I was in the bathroom a couple of guys were thrown out for being rude to my girlfriend and her friends.

Much later on the walk home, they spotted us walking home and got in our faces. I tried to defuse the situation but a melee broke out and I got stabbed in the hand and started bleeding pretty bad.

That triggered a "NO ONE MAKES ME BLEED MY OWN BLOOD RAGE" a...

I wound up shooting some pool before stumbling upon Target Field where Paul McCartney was having a concert. It was neat, they served beer just outside the field and you could hear the show perfectly.

Bunk on all of that. I am hitting Philly with a vengeance.

And as much as I like Cali I am an East Coast boy through and through.

If you see a guy with a righteous goatee pissing in your bushes, be a peach and give me a 20 second headstart before you call the cops.

We've been debating whether or not to add it to our trip. I have an ex who tramps it up at the Dixie Roadhouse these days and is beckoning for us to cut that far south.

You are in Florida correct?

*that essentially

I really hope none of you thought I was actually serious.

John Bradshaw Sousa delivers another broom handle chat booting. WHEN WILL IT END?

Once I hit the road in December you can expect pretty regular updates as well as warnings as I cross state lines.

And if the priest says anything about it lasting "3 minutes" get the hell out of there.

I like Neil Young as much as the next guy, but this guy is fucking terrible. It is like a deaf person is covering Neil Young after having the songs described to him by an ASL student who was in the throws of an opium based fever dream.

Guess we'll see based on if Mr. Bojangles really wants that meal I offered him.

We all have our crosses to bear-- mine just happens to be being manlier than the brawny man in a chainsaw juggling contest.