Sunday, April 3, 2011

Boxing Gloves



Being the kind of kid who's been described as "a seven-foot tall, albino Bob Marley" by his friends and relatives, I've never really had any sort of desire to fight, or tackle, or body-slam, or full-nelson, or half-nelson, or arm bar, or punch, or kick...


Well, there's a lot of things.


And maybe that sounds a little girly, and I'm sure that if Hemingway was still around he'd punch me in the gut and call me a sissy, but it's just something that I've never really liked doing, though, at times, I do agree that some people do need to be kicked in the face. Hard.


So, when my friends got out the boxing gloves on Friday night, naturally, I wanted in, and I got punched in the chest so hard I felt it for a whole day.


I'm still sore two days later.


But it was fun to get the shit kicked out of me, even though I was getting the shit kicked out of me.


Does that make sense?


And I'd really like to do it again some time.


Maybe next time I'll actually hit someone.





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3 comments:

  1. You hit me in the gut, why're you all lying and saying you didn't hit anyone?

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