the Briscoe Traveling Koolaid and Electric Nosehair Trimmer Show

How I got soaking wet at the Tex Mex joint Friday night, part I:

It was quite a stunning and impressive occurrence when THEBOY knocked his styrofoam cup off of the table with his elbow. It turned upside down and struck his chair so perfectly that when he picked it up, the straw was sticking out of the bottom of the cup, dripping Sprite at a rapid clip.

No waiter was in sight. Neighboring tables were chuckling aloud at yet another installment of the Briscoe Traveling Koolaid and Electric Nosehair Trimmer Show.

Everything was going to get very wet, very quickly. I picked up the cup, tucked it inside my denim jacket and made a beeline for the men's room.

My jacket did a fine job of containing the mess, though of course, it was soaked with Sprite.

***

It was a good weekend though, mostly. Had a fine Krav workout Saturday, with a guest instructor running things.

There's an orange belt test next week, and I hadn't planned on taking it. Yellow belt wasn't that long ago, and my forearms only just stopped aching from the 360 defenses we did that day. I've got nothing to prove, or so I thought.

Then MO, another student, asked me to partner with him for the test. Good guy, good to work with. Definitely one of my own preferred partners. But when I explained that I wasn't testing, he explained that he thinks I'm ready, and that the instructor had said so.

Well, I DID think I knew the test items fairly well... I'd seen them a few days prior.

Suddenly the male pride kicked in, and it's on, brother.

By the way, my yellow belt is now official (scroll down to "Texas--Personal Safety and Fitness Systems"): http://www.kravmaga.com/belts.asp

***

This, of course, after I've had another stretch of mysterious gut malaise. Nothing overwhelming, just persistent pain and occasionaly queasiness. I eat, I function, I work out... and I feel like crap.

***

And that was the only downside of seeing Ken and Anne Saturday night. As I mentioned, they fed us like royalty, again. It's so doggone nice to hang out with adults. We'd bought the UFC68 PPV (gotta remember to pony up my half to Ken, lest we have an old-school Krav showdown in street). We had steak, shrimp, veggies... and the aforementioned (previous post) homemade root beer.

I wasn't quite myself from the persistent stomachache, but we managed to have a good time. And Ken's got a huge new TV... whoa, the colors just pop.

***

THEGIRL sniffs Daddy, part I:

At some point Saturday she leaned over, tugged on the waistband of my pants and asked, "Are you poopy little guy?" I laughed as she looked. "Nope, you're fine."

***

How I got soaking wet at the Tex Mex joint Friday night, part II:

See, if you've had a persistent stomachache for days, you might think that taco soup is a fairly safe choice in a Tex Mex joint. And largely, it is, relatively speaking.

But if you lean over your soup and get a perfect splash of it in your eye, well, you discover just how much a little capsaicin in the eye burns. And burns and burns. Hence, another trip to the men's room, this time to soak my eye in tap water.

The soup was good though.

***

Watching Randy Couture dismantle Tim Sylvia was great, just great. When the first punch sent Sylvia to the mat I was thrilled. Randy, the world class grappler, tried and tried to secure a choke from that position. Sylvia's approach was a combination defense and "Big John (the referee) will stand us up any second now" stall tactic, the kind of thing he's based his whole career on.

Big John didn't stand them up, and most of that round was spent on the mat.

They did get to stand though, and for the next couple rounds they exchanged punches. Whaddya know, Couture's boxing skills were superior to Sylvia's. I've read that his original fighting style was boxing, and man, it showed. I think Couture took a few shots, and those always made my heart jump, but Sylvia took far more.

It went to a decision, but there wasn't much to decide. Unanimous decision in favor of "The Natural." Sylvia's face was "startin' to swell up like an eggplant," to quote Brother Wayne Kramer.

Now I'll just close my eyes and pretend Cro Cop isn't waiting around the corner to dismantle my hero.

***

THEGIRL sniffs Daddy, part II:

Last night when she got out of the shower she looked so nice and clean that I asked if I could smell her hair. She obliged.

Then she asked to smell my hair. I'd been in the same clothes all day, was past due for a shower. She lifted my cap, took a big whiff, furrowed her brow and spoke in some very serious baby talk that seemed to mean, "DUDE, you need some Pert!"

***

Hood stopped by Saturday. It's always good to see my baseball brother. He'd wrapped up a remote gig in Ft. Worth, so he stopped by in the station's radio truck.

I saw some neighbors peering out of their doors and windows at the site of the truck parked in front of my house. My kids liked taking a look inside at the gear, especially when told to push some buttons.

And Hood demonstrated how to raise the big antenna on top, much to my kids' delight.

Thing is, he was parked beneath one of my accursed sweetgum trees, and the antenna kept climbing up up up, even after Hood tried to stop it. Next thing we knew the antenna was genuinely tangled up in some limbs, and bending at new and exciting angles.

He finally got it to stop, but of course, it had to come down too. More bending, more shaking... and boom, a whole big limb snapped off and nearly landed on Hood himself.

It was great!

***

Happy Monday, ya'll.