Thought for the Day:
Elections are won by men and women chiefly because most people vote against somebody rather than for somebody.
Franklin P. Adams
(Today, I am taking a break from my fast paced life style.)
Under Doctors Orders:
My chronicling the day to day life and lifestyle of yours truly I know has been somewhat hit and miss. So, allow me to include you the reader on some of the highlights of these past few weeks. You see its been hard to type with a cast on my left arm (which I might add has cut my sex life by 93%) and a sling on my right…and there in begins my story.
My Loving Flower woke one Saturday morning not long ago and said to me: “Oh, Loving Husband, Light of my Life, arise, I have an idea I wish to submit for your thoughtful and kind consideration.” I awoke, pulling my self from a strangely erotic dream involving Pygmies with very sharp teeth, Mini Driver and my 2nd grade teacher Sister Mary Smells Like Pee. I blame the dream on some smoked fish and capers I had enjoyed over a bottle of Sangria with some Persian automobile salesmen during Vespers the night before.
“Loving man, who by far rises above all others. After your rugby match may we go on a hike at the near by mountain, instead of you being painfully over served inebriating substances at the after party?” Now, dear reader, I have gotten older and now I find myself playing frontline, well second row, rather than wing, which truth be known is close enough. Granted, never a stellar player, I do from time to time enjoy mortal combat as long as there is alcohol served. I am if nothing else a simple man.
I thought to myself, I can turn this into a win. Spending time with a group of like minded individuals actively engaged in bleeding and/or making others bleed, drinking distilled grains and fermented hops, and going for a walk with My Flower. I placed a call to my good friend Indian Joe (I call him Indian Joe because he is in fact named Joe). I like Indian Joe, he is a thinker and a damn good dentist.
He said “Fuck Dude, I have a Mother-Fucking Killer idea, let me call Wild Steve the Samoan, I will call you right back.” I dear reader sat back knowing a very interesting day was afoot. I told my Flower that, her ideas were taken under advisement and would be incorporated into the days festivities. I told my sweet Baby-doll, I bet your going to have a blast” her reply was "Oh, that is a bet I will take”. What that foretold, I did not know, if I had perhaps a day at the botanical gardens would have been more in order, followed perhaps by a pedicure.
An hour later Indian Joe called and said “dude it’s all set, this is going to be so fucking cool”. In retrospect, I could say that that is where my day was to take an unusual turn. My Love went with me to the warm-up Keg and Egg breakfast after which I played my usual lack luster game, after the match I pissed blood, which in rugby circles is considered a good omen. This was followed by myself and the lads drinking congratulatory shots followed by ice cold Rolling Rock (whose bottles Kenny the Frat Boy likes to break over his head).
We also enjoyed the after game show put on by our supporters the Naked Tittie Crew, which our wives and girlfriends lovingly call the scabby whore crew. It was at that point that Wild Steve the Samoan approached my Loving Bride and I saying “grunt…come on bra…you two are riding with me, fart”.
We along with several younger members of the team and a few of Wild Steve the Samoan’s extended family climbed into his ride, a 1984 GMC Ambulance which last saw active service at the turn of the century with the local VA. “ got dis’ government surplus bra, fucken-A cheap only 138,000 miles”. I could tell this is not what my Flower had in mind, for a relaxing hike in the mountains, but she is a trooper and even took a turn on the beer bong the college kids were passing around. Like I said she is a sport. Our 14 vehicle caravan started out for distant peaks.
Enter, co-ed naked rappelling.
Well, I was the only one to naked rappel but get into that and the bet I lost. Both teams, our families and friends, descended on some cliffs and begin to illegally rappel in a national park. The plan being we would hold out until reinforced park rangers and a helicopter pushed us from our mountain lair. Friends Iwo Jima, did not have as elaborate a battle plan.
We tied off, tossed our ropes over, had a few drinks and then stood around looking at each other. So, who was going to be the first one over the side…comments were made about the perceived shortness of the ropes, however no one volunteered to go back down the cliff and check, group consensuses being that, if anything it was only about 5 feet short. Tommy Hilfiger dude suggested that we do rock-paper-scissors to see who the lucky man to carry our honor over the side would be.
It was at this point that my Flower, who had until then been uncharacteristically silent, pushed her ex-Marine Corp self to the front of the group and looking each one in the eye said: “Jesus Christ, you fucking bunch of Pussies, why don’t you fuck’en grow a pair. My JQP is going to go over the side and he is going to Australian rappel and he is going to do it naked ‘cause my honey is a man.” Before the blood could rush back into my face, My Flower smiled and said "...take it off baby, Airborne!" Next thing I know Indian Joe has me tied into a homemade Swiss seat, buck naked and I am on the edge, friends in more ways than one.
Now for those of you who don’t know Aussie rappelling is face out, ie: not facing the cliff, so when you step off, you really step out. You basically run face first down the side of a cliff. Gay-Ray-Ray, who was in the 10th Mountain and who’s gear we were using said Man, I have never seen shit like this (laugh) your fucking naked (laugh) this is going to be a story to tell, (then with a serious look) you remember your parachute landing fall (or PLF for you legs) right? Because JQP old buddy you might just end up using it.
It got quiet, very quiet, I felt the desert breeze blowing up my ass crack. Looking strait out I said a quick one to JC and the Sunshine Band and over the top I went. To audable gasps of those collected. At the moment of no return I heard my Flower, Shout, "Semper Fi, fu-c-ke-rrr…" and down I went.
I had planned a slow descent, but I have always found that impossible when doing the Aussie. Now the last time I had done this it was out of a chopper, which friends you know is much easier. Down, down I went. 50, 100, 200 feet, at about two’ is when I knew I might have a problem. Some quick math told me I was right. There was a strange sound and next thing I new I was upside-down, bleeding and looking at some big stone close-up. The first thing I heard when I came to was ‘fuck man, look at all that blood, he’s fucking dead man. '
It seems everyone ran for their cars and rushed to the bottom after I went over to see the results. Indian Joe, being a trained medical professional pushed his way to the front of the crowd shouting don’t move him, he might go into shock, to which one of the college kids shouted “shut the fuck-up your only a fucking dentist”. I understand that after the excitement Joe set him straight on "only being a dentist" and ended up providing him a grand worth of dental work to repair what he broke, during his education sesson, but I digress.
It appears we were "only" about 28 feet short of rope and our field expedient Swiss seat, modified with duct tape and clothesline really wasn’t engineered as thoroughly as the event demanded. Luckily, I landed on my head. I found myself floating in and out of a timid grip on reality. It was at this point I hear the voice of my Loving Flower, shouting "Let me through you bunch of Fucks", yes dear reader, my love, coming to aid me.
“John Q. Public, get the fuck up, it was only a 30 foot drop head first onto boulders, you are not this much of a pussy, shake it off, Goddamnit, and get yourself in Wild Steve the Samoan’s ambulance before you bleed all over this fucking mountain". So, I shyly got up.
“Well, that's just fucking great dumb ass, tried to break your fall with your arms?” There I stood naked covered in rope and my own blood, realizing first that, mother fucker I had the world record for crotch chaffing, then her her words slowly sunk in. I took stock.
My left arm while functioning was bent back flat half way up the forearm and my right shoulder was somewhere in the middle of my back, not to mention the head injury and 3 broken ribs. All in all, pretty good. My Flower handed me my clothes and helped me dress while Indian Joe feed me a beer. She whispered, "...don’t show pain in front of these fucks, honey, you’re a hero, now lets just walk to the truck". Show pain? I couldn’t feel anything yet, my how I wished that would have lasted.
Wild Steve the Samoan fired up his ride and we were off on a trip down the mountain that even in my condition was scarier than my nude rappelling adventure. With everyone in tow, leaving Gay-Ray-Ray to bitch about blood on his ropes and how the Swiss seat wasn’t his fault, we were on our way to the closest hospital.
We went to my favorite ER and actually got the same nurse I had went I attempted to stitch up my head that one night after I fell into the wall. “Don’t tell me, rugby party right?" Since I looked so bad and had 40 people with me they got me into a room quick. Needless to say after a few “that is the stuipiedest thing I have ever heard of a grown man doing, and a couple of the your very lucky to be alives followed 24 hours of observation I was discharged. Best of all I didn’t miss a day of work, I am a bad ass after all and my Flower has been a wonderful caretaker. And friends, next time she suggests something I think I will listen a bit closer.
Todays Bill:
"Frailty, thy name is woman!"
Hamlet (I, ii, 146)
Quote of the Day:
If you make people think they're thinking, they'll love you; But if you really make them think, they'll hate you.
Don Marquis
I remain, much like the unused sex toy in your underwear drawer:
JQP esq.
