Wednesday, April 04, 2007

The Weekend of Jackass

This weekend started with a Friday evening viewing of Jackass Two. Saturday morning/afternoon, slightly hung over (understatement) from Friday, I pressed play on the DVD player again. After watching the movie for the second time I went through all the bonus features and deleted scenes. When that was over, I popped the original Jackass in, watched it in it’s entirety along with the bonus features. I watched a lot of Bam Margara, Johnny Knoxville, and Steve-O this weekend. And you know what? I think I’m in love.

Now, before you jump to conclusions, let me clarify. I do not love the guys of Jackass like I love boobies and Brazilian porn. (Speaking of Brazilian porn, those chicks know how to work it. They know how to work it and they really seem to enjoy it. Could just be that they’re getting paid to, what do I know.) But, I would love to hang out with them for a week while they are out shooting their next movie (sans getting kicked in the balls as mine are very sensitive, probably attributed to the andro days). Just think of it: they’re always laughing and having a good time, typically doing something wild and crazy, all while sucking down MGDs. This is besides the fact that half the time they’re butt ass naked which also kind of turns me on, I mean, grosses me out. While I can’t skate or do tricks on a bmx, I’m sure I’d fit right in with my equally outgoing and demented personality. I could even help them with some of their stunts.

- Eat a “yellow” snow cone? No.
- Make a “yellow” snow cone for Ryan Dunn to eat? Sure, why not.
- Get shot in the balls with a paintball gun? No.
- Shoot Johnny Knoxville in the ball with a paintball gun? Sure, why not.
- Slide down a ramp into a pool of shit and dead animals? No.
- Shit in the pool of shit and dead animals for Steve-O to dive into? Sure, why not.
- Wax Chris Pontius’ ass? No.
- Pour a gallon of hot wax on Chris Pontius’ ass? Sure, why not.
- Slap Bam Margara’s bare ass while he’s fucking his girlfriend? No.
- Fuck Bam Margara’s girlfriend? Hell yeah!

I think I could bring a lot of quality effort, maybe some stunt ideas, and definitely some smelly farts to the show.


And have you seen Bam Margara’s girlfriend (wife I guess now)? That’s one hot bitch.

In order to get on the show I have started a rigorous training regimen. I’ve been lifting weights twice a day now, at noon and in the evening. I figure most of those guys aren’t that tall/big so if I’m going to be half a foot taller than them I might as well be fifty pounds heavier, too. Since I gained that ten pounds in 45 days I have stayed fairly constant weight wise at 230 lbs. The two-a-day workouts combined with jogging three times a week should get me to where I’d like to be.

I’ve started experimenting with various dairy products to see what gives me the best results. You see, my body doesn’t react well to dairy products. “Doesn’t react well” would be better explained as getting violent convulsions and projectile shits, but I don’t think I want to get that graphic here. Well, ok I will.

Lastly, I have given up on the beer. I don’t mean “given up” like I just left my eight month old daughter on the front steps of the church, but for the meanwhile (read = two days) I haven’t had any. I watched the second half of the championship game at the bar on Monday without a glass in front of me. The bartender looked at me funny, but he always looks funny. Tuesday I stayed home, did some laundry, and finished half of one of the books I’ve been reading, The Survivalist, by Jerry Ahern. The Renter says I’m becoming like a “Trakie” (her words, not mine) because I’m reading this 21 volume story about a guy who survives World War III by living in a cave using cryogenic sleeping chambers to wait out the radiation. I’m on #14 and it’s getting a little weird with pockets of Russians and Germans and strange cult people popping up who survived the ionization of the atmosphere in one way or another. Ok, maybe I might be turning into some kind of, well, nevermind, I just won’t talk about this shit anymore. I don’t want to ruin the awesome image of myself that I have portrayed on this site. I really am pretty fucking cool/sick/perverted/demented/great in bed, trust me.

The whole beer thing had to come to an end some time. You know what they say, too much of a good thing. And to tell you the truth, I feel like a champ in the mornings and throughout the whole day. Hell, yesterday I was up at 6:15, lifted weights twice, went for a jog, and stopped reading around midnight when I finally got tired. Just think of the stamina I’d have in the bedroom if some semi hot girl(s) wanted to come over (and make a little money)! I realize I might have to take baby steps with this and ease into it, but I have planned ahead for this. I’m going to ease into it by not drinking Monday through Thursday and them down six pitchers on both Friday and Saturday. That’s taking baby steps, right?

(I should keep track of how many times the above paragraph or something like it pops up in my blog, only to be tossed out the window when $4.25 pitcher night rolls around, like tonight.)

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