Ever Get Your Ass Kicked by a Six Year Old?




I’ve got nothing too clever planned for this entry, but the important part is I get back to writing at this point so here goes:

Ever get your ass kicked by a six year old? Me neither, but at times like yesterday I was certainly glad that six year olds are physically weaker than adults. I hung my heavy and striking bags last night. The kid was there with me the whole way. After taking some time adjusting things and showing her how to tape her hands, she and I went ten three minute rounds. She hung with me the whole way and then embarrassed me by doing a minute’s worth of jumping jacks between rounds while I was bent over panting and sweating toxins out of my body.

This all evolved after being able to excavate all my ex-wife’s stuff from the basement. And by “stuff” I mean “absolute shitpile.” I now have room for this equipment that I always wanted. See I’m not negative all the time. I’m actually enjoying having a clean house. What’s even better, when I leave the house and it’s clean…when I come back to it…it’s still clean. Really cool stuff and a nice change for me.

I’ll continue to be positive. I need the practice at it. I’ll even thank myspace. Because of myspace, I know what the guy looks like that was bumping uglies with my wife which adds a considerable edge to my basement pummeling sessions. Since I left my heavy bag outside for the duration of my summer regimen, my waterlogged 75 lb bag weighs about 125 right now and it makes this really cool “smwhack” whenever I tag it well. I like to picture blood exploding from a certain nose whenever a cross registers and rattles the floor beam my bag is attached to. Immature? Yeah, but I get some slack due my circumstances don’t I? The bag sessions work better than my xanax anyways.

I’m not much a braggart and I know the old adage about “the bigger they are, the harder they fall” and all that, but I’ve been doing this stuff for years and I can set down on and throw a pretty decent punch if I say so myself. Aside from that, and this runs in the male side of my family…I kinda have what is known as retard strength when I get angry. So sometimes I go to sleep at night imagining what would happen if fuckface and I ever crossed paths. That will never happen. Not much good ever happens to me.

Okay, back to trying to be positive. Oh, regarding the single life. Y’know I’m not the anti-Christ my ex made me believe I was. Apparently there’s room for an educated nice guy that doesn’t look quite as ugly as a bag of hammers in the single world. I’ve even met a couple of women who actually treat me like I may be an enjoyable sort to hang around with. Seems, my ex was the only one treated me like an asshole. So it’s nice to be out from under that and begin building my self-esteem back up.

Anyways, back to the six year old. Check out these pics. I know in that one pic she missed with that straight right, but check out the intensity in her gaze and notice she’s not hitting with the palm side of the fist. She’s got those knuckles squared and ready to remove some offender’s teeth. That punch is a fat lip for some kid that pisses her off in the future. Do you want to face off with her? I thought not. My goal is to train her enough so she can kick the living shit out of any boy she dates. Hope you are ready for her boys. It will be a few years before I have to worry about that, but by then she’ll be prepared.

I WILL meet all of her dates before they go out. Whoa to the first teenager who picks up my daughter and sits in the car in the driveway and honks the horn. If I get enough advance warning of the date, my plan is to be outside with my shirt off splitting wood with my 16 lb moll. If he has the balls to get past the pre-date interview with me, then I guess I’ll let him have a shot taking my kid out.

I love my kid. She’s been through enough pain these past months due to no fault of her own and no fault of mine so I have to admit I’m feeling a little overprotective lately.

It was just a great time yesterday in the basement. The kid and I both hitting those bags at the same time was pure pleasure. I wonder if she was thinking about that fuckface from myspace, too? I know it takes two to tango and that my ex was equally at fault for the indiscretions, but I’ve never been a big fan of hitting women…even the ones who deserve it; so I’ll have to content myself with sickly macabre thoughts of pulling this guy’s limbs off one at a time and eating his still beating heart while it pumps blood down my chest. Ahhhhh, that thought makes me feel warm inside. Like Christmas morning.

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