Baby Daddy 27: Winning and Losing

First of all, I need to say a special "hello" to Ukraine. I don't know what happened, but y'all lit my shit UP this weekend! Based on some of the referring URLs, I'm guessing I made it onto a Ukrainian porn site. Not sure how that happens, but I guess I'm flattered?  Either way, it is refreshing to see yet another former Soviet Union country reading my shit.

(Yes, this is how I assume Ukrainians read my blog. Fuck you, I don't know how it gets printed in the news.)

Now, onto business. This past weekend was intense. On Friday, after dating for a decade, Noelle and Brad (Game Night  Friends) got married. In true fashion, it was a courthouse marriage. With one being a professed atheist, and another being a true agnostic, it was very entertaining to hear the volunteer Baptist minister talk about the two entering into a marriage blessed by Jesus Christ, and bound by a fear of G-d. Because, you know, Jesus.

In other news, we had a Baby Shower. We had a bunch of people come over, we got a lot of items that were critical, and I drank my lunch and dinner. That's it. It was a great time, but not one with a particular story. Tod-d was there. He gave our baby an airline bottle of Jack Daniel's. He is truly the Drunk Uncle. Drunk Uncle Tod-d.

Then, most importantly, we had the Super Bowl. That's right, sports! Patriots won. I don't rightly care. What I do care about? The wing cook-off. My wife, Ahmed, and I each entered into gladiatorial combat. My wife fixed two flavors of wing. Ahmed fixed two flavors of wing. I fixed one flavor of wing. Everyone was trying to figure out how to name their respective wings. Do you know what I called mine? WINNER!!!! That's right!! I fucking won!! Do you have any idea how goddamn rare and lucky that is?! It's like Godzilla and King Kong going to war, and Tokyo coming out as the fucking champion! Seriously. Ahmed and my wife are both known for being the best cooks in our group. And I fucking won?

Do you want to know my first thought, after the votes were tallied? Hot damn! Do you know what my second thought was? Oh, shit. Why? Because I literally just beat my wife in an area that she is far superior. Not only that, but I beat my preggers wife. And yes, I used the sentence because it is rare that anyone can say they beat their preggers wife and not sound like the biggest shit in the world. And you know what? I was correct. We got home, my wife hugged and congratulated me, and then she immediately asked what type of bullshit I pulled to win the competition.

Of course, the answer was simple. I made American wings. My wife's wings were very distinctly Chinese. Ahmed's wings were very distinctly Mediterranean. My wings were Southwestern. They were salty, spicy, and buttery. Except for one person, the judges were all Americans. They were looking for something hotter. Mine stood out. I actually think my wife's honey glazed wings were the best. Mine were closer to a traditional hot wing. I imagine that, with my flavor pallet, my wife could perfect the spices in my recipe. Until then, I will simply relish in the fact that a busted watch is on point every so often.

Moral of the Story: My wings won, and I am most assuredly going to lose when my wife reads this story.

Did I Nick Your Eye?

I said it, and I meant it. I am going to share all of the stories. And how am I going to start? By sharing my experiences in Krav Maga. In particular, I want to discuss the fact that I love it. And not only do I love it, but Ahmed loves it. That's right; my Arab friend, Ahmed, likes learning Israeli combat techniques. With the start of November, Krav classes moved to a new night and a new location. Where, you may ask? To a big fucking Baptist church. It should also be noted that this big-ass church is located on one of the most dangerous roads in the area. Imagine an interstate, without the concrete barriers between traffic direction. Then imagine having to turn left, against traffic, to get into a dimly lit driveway, so that you can then find the back of a mall-sized church.

When I first went there, I thought I was going to die. I turned against traffic, and my car had zero power at the time. Do you know how shitty that would have been? Headlines: "Jew Killed Trying to Go to Church". What...the...shit....? Though I will say, I think it is funny that a Jew and an Arab meet at a church to learn Israeli combat from a devout Christian. There is a punchline in there, somewhere. (Hint: There in a pun in the word punchline. It's a pun-chline.).

Now the best part about these Krav sessions is that Ahmed has been joining. What is that better? Because he makes it real. The first time he showed up, we were training with weapon defense. In particular, we were training how to fight someone who has a bat (baseball, not mammal). For those who don't know, you want to either get out of the way or rush in. If you rush in close and block their hands. The idea is that if you stop them at their hands, you don't suffer as much pain as trying to stop the tip of a bat. You can read up on the physics of it at home. Do it. Right now. Did it? Liar. That's okay. After you rush in and stop the bat swinging, you can knee/elbow/punch/gouge/etc to destroy the attacker.

Now when it came time for actual training, we had to partner up. Of course, Ahmed and I chose to partner, and we had a plastic whiffle-ball bat. Most partners trained very slow. One would slowly swing, and then stop at the point that their partner was supposed to rush in and attack/defend. Ahmed and I took a different approach.

We tried to knock the living shit out of each other. I mean, we swung the shit out of the bat. He hit me in the leg once, and it left a sizable welt. I clipped him in the knee, and Ahmed was hobbling. Here's a video that shows how we swung the bat. Keep in mind that the person with the bat was advancing on the defender.

It was real enough that other people stopped training to watch us fight. At one point, someone asked if we were good, or if we had actually pissed each other off.

Fast forward to this past week. This week, we discussed throws. In particular, we looked at how to execute various throws and take-downs. As it turns out, when you go for a tackle, or any other leg-take down, you need to make sure you keep your head tucked. Why? Because Ahmed tackled me. Yes, this was a drill. No, I was not supposed to block it. Unfortunately, my body thought different. As Ahmed tackled me, I lifted my arms. As I lifted my arms, I inadvertently hooked Ahmed's eyelid. I was hoping it was his nose or cheek, since that would have seemed less painful, but he had a very bloodshot eye after that. Another time, I may have accidentally kneed Ahmed in the testicles. He did the same to me, of course, but I was the only one wearing a cup.

Moral of the Story: Training Krav Maga with Ahmed makes it real, and Ahmed really needs to buy a cup.

Baby Daddy 6: Discipline

YES!!!!!! Do you FEEL IT?!?! That's SECOND TRIMESTER, BITCHES!!! My wife is NOT nauseated anymore. She's still batshit crazy, but it is in a far better way. And that leads me to this next installment of the Baby Daddy Series. Today's subject? Discipline. (FOCUS!)

As you may or may not have known, I started learning Krav Maga a couple weeks ago. As someone described it on The Big Bang Theory, it's 1,000 ways to rip a guys testicles off. That's not entirely true, but it is. On a side note, Ahmed mentioned that I should enter a cage fight, now that I am learning how to defend myself. I told him that's a terrible choice. He asked why, and I told that I am literally learning every technique that is outlawed in professional fighting. What most cage-fighter try to avoid, Krav Maga avidly encourages. I'm talking eye-poke, dick-punch, fish hook, nose picker, and throat stomp. But I digress.

Why do I talk about Krav Maga, in a section about being a baby daddy? One, because nobody has a sense of humor. Last night, we learned about elbows. Of the eight elbow strikes we learned, there was one that goes to the back, and down. Think of this as elbowing a person in the gut. I then made the joke about going home to practice with my preggers wife. Evidently the women in the class have not figured out that I have a fucked up sense of humor. Their eyes got big and they immediately started asking if I was serious. I told them that I wasn't. Why? Because I'm not that stupid. If I tried to practice with my wife, she'd knock my ass out with a fucking skillet. How do I know? Because she playfully tried to do it last weekend. I then joked that I did look forward to when my boy interrupts my training, and I accidentally elbow him in the face. Again, the group had no humor. One was talking about all these safety precautions I could take. I told her my safety precaution would be that my son would hopefully block the elbow and whoop my ass. She then asked if I was talking about my unborn child. Like that makes a difference? Fuck that. I expect my boy to kick my ass by the time he's a month old. If he can't throw me across the room by the time he's 6-months old, I have failed him. 

But I digress...again. The reason why I discuss this is because I do plan on teaching my family Krav Maga. I believe that everyone should know how to protect themselves. I told my folks about it, and they couldn't wait to be the Krav Maga Saba and Tzavta (Grandpa and Grandma). I told my wife about this idea and she was thrilled. She immediately started talking about how she can then use the techniques to beat our son, and force him to get straight A's in Harvard Medical School. Yes, that's right. My Chinese wife wants to learn Israeli combat, so that she can force her son the be a doctor. Now before some asshole tries to call protective services, we will not beat our children. We may spar with them, and whoop their asses, but we won't beat them. 

And that part is true. One concern a lot of people have is that our kids will get picked on or get into fights. Being half Chinese, half Jewish, and raised in the South, that's a very realistic possibility. And that is why I am training them to know how to fight. Now there's a condition to that. They can never start a fight, but they had damn well better finish it. My wife was talking about how, if Chinese sons lose a fight, their fathers beat them so that the son loses twice. I told my wife that our boy won't lose. I also told her that, should our kids ever want to start a fight, they will come home and fight me. If they're justified in their aggression, having been victimized or slighted, they will win their fight. If they are just being a hormonal shit-brain teenager, I make sure they lose. Of course, if our kids win the fight, then it also means that I will be talking to parents, a school, and/or a lawyer after. If our kids lose the fight, then I'mma make them get me a beer and then ask their mother about science. That way I can crush them physically, and she can crush them mentally. Because fuck teenagers. Assholes.

Moral of the Story: My family is going to learn Krav Maga and I'm cautious when my wife has a pot, pan, or skillet in her hands.

Megatron and Muhammad-d

SO! Another shout out goes to Russia. I don't understand it. I talk shit about them only contributing vodka and communism, and yet they are hitting up my blog fairly consistently. For the first time, I had more page hits from Russia, than the US. Step your shit up, America! You can't fight the Red Scare without getting a little pink! I have no idea what that even means. But it sounded good, right?

So the weekend was an interesting one. My wife is still battling morning sickness. And by that, I mean 24/7 sickness. She described pregnancy as, "It's like 9 months hungover, that end with pushing a human out. Except it's worse. Hang-over at least means I could have alcohol. Preggers sucks." She said this, of course, as she was running to the porcelain god. On a semi-related note, my wife is still keeping a sense of humor. The other day, she was semi-dancing, letting her arms sway back and forth. She then faked morning sickness, and started laughing. After asking her about it, my wife said she was pretending to be an octopus. She was laughing because octopuses use projectile ink as a weapon, much like she pretended with her morning sickness. Of course, in faking the morning sick, my wife became truly nauseated and had to run to the bathroom. She then ran back out, and continued her octopus dance. I also do not know if she is joking, or not, but my wife has repeatedly stated that she wants to puke on my face. I can't be certain, but I suspect there might be hostility over the fact that she has to deal with carrying the child and I do not. 

On a separate note, we have not named our kid yet. We want to wait for the gender, before we put too much effort into it. Imagine how fucked up it would be to come up with the perfect boy's name, and find out we are having a girl? And knowing us, we would not have a gender neutral name. I just don't see many girls named "Jack" or "David" or "Paul" or "Megatron". Though we have been talking about the fact that we may get the gender wrong. If we are expecting a daughter, and we end up with a son, we've decided to name the child Todd. Why? Because Tod-d fucks things up. He lost his belly, and thus lost the identity of Craig. Tod-d accidentally snorted Jack Daniel's. It is only fair that our child be named after him, should she turn out to be a he.

On a separate note, Ahmed has had his name changed. Through dialogue with our Game Night Friends, my wife and Ahmed were talking. And as you may recall, Ahmed does not have much regard for "boundaries". Why does this matter? Because my wife was talking about the weather. We are in for a hot spell, this summer, and my wife said that it is too hot to do much outside. In fact, she said that the only good this heat was for is throwing a ring in it. Yes, my wife made a Lord of The Rings reference. That's right, she's a bad-ass. Ahmed ruined the reference, however, when he referenced a cock-ring. For the sake of my mind's eye, I am assuming this was a joke. My wife's response, of course, was, "Why? Why do you tell me this? I cannot look at you the same anymore. You are a different person, now."

No, this is not what Ahmed meant. But again, fuck you. I am trying to prevent a terrible mental image. 

Because this was in a chat with all of our Game Night Friends, Tod-d immediately said that Ahmed needed a new name. My wife thought about it, and out of spite, gave Ahmed the name Muhammad. Why is this spiteful? Because Ahmed is a proud atheist and hates Islam. To compound the insult, Muhammad was then renamed to be Muhammad-d (pronounced: Moo-HA-Muh-duh-duh). 

Moral of the Story: Russia is kicking ass. My wife is an octopus that wants to puke in my face. And Muhammad-d is regretting his choice in disclosure. Oh, and I want to name our kid Megatron.