Hey gang,
Just a quick one. Due to illness I will not be fighting for a belt or anything else for that matter. Massive abcess, loads of drugs and concequently no training, so no fight.
I'll be back around new years so if there's a party....
See y'all soon
Friday, December 21, 2007
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Bonfire of the Manatees
Hello boys and girls, are you all sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin...
Briefly, before I bring you all up to date with my news I should like to offer some advise to the owners of the new karaoke bar in Chiang Mai. Your attempts to draw attention to the amount of class your joint has should not be done in neon fucking strip lights, that's a basic. Also, I might venture the opinion that you should use a more subtle nomenclature than 'Hi-class Karaoke'. Firstly, high class joints, as a rule use correct spelling in their signs. Secondly, they usually aren't full of bikini'd girls with fucking numbers on their arses. I'm afraid your attempts to trick out your brothel are as misguided as a hippy who doesn't shave her armpits thinking the best way to make headway on the popularity front is to shout 'aciiiiiid' every time I pass her. The stupid bitch.
While I'm having a go at the hippies, I would also like to point out that the sagely wisdom of 'Live each day as though it were your last', is best suited to middle aged folks who have spent every waking hour in the rat race and have let fun pass them by in an effort to make enough money to enjoy themselves. You don't need to keep saying it to a bunch of rich American twenty-somethings in a nightclub in the hope that one of them will let you jump her bones for being so fucking free spirited. By virtue of the fact that she's going home with at least two boxers she's just met we can safely assume she's already living each day as though it were her last, you prick. Anyway, if she follows your suggestion she may well wake up one day aged fourty-five, no job, no family, no house and no fucking hope. And yes, I am aware of the glaring irony, so you can all skip that e-mail.
Ok. So I have changed my plans slightly, and I am now going to skip the islands and train for a fight instead. So, with all going according to plan, I'll be fighting on christmas eve. Against the same guy I fought in Kawila. You can see it all here http://blip.tv/file/929394/ Which leads me nicely into giving much love to Colin 'world's sexiest painter' Byrne. The whole thing is an hour and fourty minutes long and I haven't watched past the ten minute mark, so I've no idea what it's like, but I imagine Colly has used as much care and attention to detail in this as he does in his interior decorating. So, it'll be really good at the start, all the way through and then a little rushed at the end.
Finally, I'd like to have a bash at the muslims who I think have gotten off rather easy of late. I was giggling away at pictures of Mohammed, when it occurred to me that when there was that whole thing about setting Denmark on fire because a newspaper showed pictures of their prophet, despite the fact that Denmark is not a Muslim country. Well the whole thing struck me as not dis-similar to what the Nazis did to the Jews circa 1930. That's right. Those loveable rogues, the Nazis. They too went through town, showing their disapproval to certain images by setting everything on fire. Yes, I know it's not very current news but I wanted to be sure I nailed it.
Anyway, I'm done. Fuck off. In fact, fuck off, come back and then fuck off again.
Briefly, before I bring you all up to date with my news I should like to offer some advise to the owners of the new karaoke bar in Chiang Mai. Your attempts to draw attention to the amount of class your joint has should not be done in neon fucking strip lights, that's a basic. Also, I might venture the opinion that you should use a more subtle nomenclature than 'Hi-class Karaoke'. Firstly, high class joints, as a rule use correct spelling in their signs. Secondly, they usually aren't full of bikini'd girls with fucking numbers on their arses. I'm afraid your attempts to trick out your brothel are as misguided as a hippy who doesn't shave her armpits thinking the best way to make headway on the popularity front is to shout 'aciiiiiid' every time I pass her. The stupid bitch.
While I'm having a go at the hippies, I would also like to point out that the sagely wisdom of 'Live each day as though it were your last', is best suited to middle aged folks who have spent every waking hour in the rat race and have let fun pass them by in an effort to make enough money to enjoy themselves. You don't need to keep saying it to a bunch of rich American twenty-somethings in a nightclub in the hope that one of them will let you jump her bones for being so fucking free spirited. By virtue of the fact that she's going home with at least two boxers she's just met we can safely assume she's already living each day as though it were her last, you prick. Anyway, if she follows your suggestion she may well wake up one day aged fourty-five, no job, no family, no house and no fucking hope. And yes, I am aware of the glaring irony, so you can all skip that e-mail.
Ok. So I have changed my plans slightly, and I am now going to skip the islands and train for a fight instead. So, with all going according to plan, I'll be fighting on christmas eve. Against the same guy I fought in Kawila. You can see it all here http://blip.tv/file/929394/ Which leads me nicely into giving much love to Colin 'world's sexiest painter' Byrne. The whole thing is an hour and fourty minutes long and I haven't watched past the ten minute mark, so I've no idea what it's like, but I imagine Colly has used as much care and attention to detail in this as he does in his interior decorating. So, it'll be really good at the start, all the way through and then a little rushed at the end.
Finally, I'd like to have a bash at the muslims who I think have gotten off rather easy of late. I was giggling away at pictures of Mohammed, when it occurred to me that when there was that whole thing about setting Denmark on fire because a newspaper showed pictures of their prophet, despite the fact that Denmark is not a Muslim country. Well the whole thing struck me as not dis-similar to what the Nazis did to the Jews circa 1930. That's right. Those loveable rogues, the Nazis. They too went through town, showing their disapproval to certain images by setting everything on fire. Yes, I know it's not very current news but I wanted to be sure I nailed it.
Anyway, I'm done. Fuck off. In fact, fuck off, come back and then fuck off again.
Friday, November 23, 2007
I am not the champions
Shocking but true. This is a review of my fourth fight and my first loss. Now, before I get into it I'd like to point out that I'm not one of those guys who losses and then starts going on about how the other guy cheated but this guy fucking cheated man. Just before the fight we see him and his corner man preparing what look like 2 giant ampules of steroids. They were way to big to be roids but whatever they were, they were definitely illegal because the guy brought them down a blind alley and smashed them to bits so we couldn't read what was on them. Cheating fuck. Having said that, if I'd trained more and been stricter with my diet I may well have won.
The fight itself was not so bad. First round was just the standard fare of feeling the other guy out, looking for openings and chinks. Not much happened really except for a series of kicks by the guy which I checked every single one. He even looked at his corner with a look of 'oh shit, that's not working'.
Round two and we both stepped up a notch. A few hard kicks were traded and I made an early play for the KO, but when I dropped my hand for the body shot I ate an elbow with my face. Quick as a flash, that is, before the doctor could look, my trainer had rubbed this stuff that resembles coarse sand in my cut and completely stemmed the bleeding, so the ref let the fight go on. I knew he could smell blood, so to speak so when he came to bring this lamb to the slaughter, he found a very pissed off wolf. I went at him like a spider monkey, landing some great straights and hooks and at least one perfect knee before the bell went. We later found out that the bell went a bit too early so the promoter could get more rounds out of the fight. Frustrating, as ten more seconds would have done it for him.
So round three and all the guy could throw was the same sort of elbow that cut me in number two but I had the measure of him and blocked every shot. I started landing heavy hooks on him again but as I moved forward, I slipped on the slick of the canvas and he was there to meet me with an elbow. The shot looked worse than it was because I was slipping anyway. But when I looked down at the mat I could see the blood pouring out of me like soup and before I could stand the ref stopped it.
So that was it. My first loss. Made all the more frustrating by the illegal substances and promoters greed contributing to it, but gracious in defeat and all that. I guess there will be a rematch, although not on this trip. My next fight will be for a belt. Although that remains to be seen. More about this in the next blog.
The fight itself was not so bad. First round was just the standard fare of feeling the other guy out, looking for openings and chinks. Not much happened really except for a series of kicks by the guy which I checked every single one. He even looked at his corner with a look of 'oh shit, that's not working'.
Round two and we both stepped up a notch. A few hard kicks were traded and I made an early play for the KO, but when I dropped my hand for the body shot I ate an elbow with my face. Quick as a flash, that is, before the doctor could look, my trainer had rubbed this stuff that resembles coarse sand in my cut and completely stemmed the bleeding, so the ref let the fight go on. I knew he could smell blood, so to speak so when he came to bring this lamb to the slaughter, he found a very pissed off wolf. I went at him like a spider monkey, landing some great straights and hooks and at least one perfect knee before the bell went. We later found out that the bell went a bit too early so the promoter could get more rounds out of the fight. Frustrating, as ten more seconds would have done it for him.
So round three and all the guy could throw was the same sort of elbow that cut me in number two but I had the measure of him and blocked every shot. I started landing heavy hooks on him again but as I moved forward, I slipped on the slick of the canvas and he was there to meet me with an elbow. The shot looked worse than it was because I was slipping anyway. But when I looked down at the mat I could see the blood pouring out of me like soup and before I could stand the ref stopped it.
So that was it. My first loss. Made all the more frustrating by the illegal substances and promoters greed contributing to it, but gracious in defeat and all that. I guess there will be a rematch, although not on this trip. My next fight will be for a belt. Although that remains to be seen. More about this in the next blog.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Happy birthday to me..
Well it finally happened. I reached 30. I think I might owe Don some money now. I know what your thinking, a bit pretentous wishing yourself a happy birthday, but I say pretentious? Moi??
Well, what's changed? I'm still a procrastinator I suppose, but I'll come back to that later... Older? Definitely? Wiser? Sadly, not. Just this week I went up to a zen Buddhist hot dog vendor and asked him to make me one with everything.Did all the usual birthday things, drank, smoked, paid hookers to do freaky shit with my junk. Normal, everyday stuff. There were a couple of my real friends in Thailand at the time and combining that with the successful completion of two fights for the gym and some random date on the calender, we had enough of a reason to paint the town beige. That's what us grown ups do. The same things as you kids only milder, less rebellious somehow and infinitely more tragic.In all honesty though it was pretty cool to look back on 30 years and be able to say that I'm doing what I want; training the way I want, and as much as I want, following a dream, answering to no one, having freaky shit done to my junk...and so on.So what have I learned in 30 years on this planet? Don't trust chicks. More about this later.
Well, what's changed? I'm still a procrastinator I suppose, but I'll come back to that later... Older? Definitely? Wiser? Sadly, not. Just this week I went up to a zen Buddhist hot dog vendor and asked him to make me one with everything.Did all the usual birthday things, drank, smoked, paid hookers to do freaky shit with my junk. Normal, everyday stuff. There were a couple of my real friends in Thailand at the time and combining that with the successful completion of two fights for the gym and some random date on the calender, we had enough of a reason to paint the town beige. That's what us grown ups do. The same things as you kids only milder, less rebellious somehow and infinitely more tragic.In all honesty though it was pretty cool to look back on 30 years and be able to say that I'm doing what I want; training the way I want, and as much as I want, following a dream, answering to no one, having freaky shit done to my junk...and so on.So what have I learned in 30 years on this planet? Don't trust chicks. More about this later.
Tora! Tora! Tora!
This blog is about fight number three.
Training went ok for this one but I came in a bit too hard at the start and kind of tapered off about ten days out and even needed a day and a half off a few days before it. That shot the confidence a bit so I was nervous as unholy fuck on the day. With the added pressure of two of my training compadres from home. And if that wasn't enough one of those friends was making a video he hoped to turn into a documentary or as Charlie Brooker might say a 'shock-u-mentally'.
Anyway, I was just about sorted in the head department when someone told me that he'd knocked out a big guy from Lanna gym and that he was a tough little bastard. Thanks cunt. So got into the ring and did me wee spirit dance and what not, and we were off to the first round. The usual feeling out stuff really, he went for an early clinch which I just couldn't dominate successfully. This wasn't good cause that was kind of the game plan and I wasn't thinking sharp enough to try and switch it up. It's not that he was that good at clinch but he was fantastic at stuffing mine. And he was the dirtiest bastard to ever set foot in a ring. Poking the eyes, fish hooking, nose bars, the fucking lot. With a face that wouldn't melt butter.
Anyway, at the end of round one I felt quite worn out, which wasn't good at all. I decided I better hold a little back in case it went the distance. So I held off for a while and didn't try anything fancy, just kept it going with the basics. Just went for good point scoring shots and tried to finish in the clinch. I was very tired by the fourth and conceded about six points at the very end of the round in the clinch. He was going for fast, ineffective knees. Not going to do me damage anywhere except the score sheet. I was that tired by the middle of the fourth that I actually considered just lying down after the next hard hit, but when it landed I saw red and gave it back harder than I got it, so well done to whichever part of me takes care of that stuff, cause I wanted out.
So, standing up for the fifth I felt as though there were a frenchman living in my head. A frenchman who hadn't worked out how to flush the toilet properly either. I had decided to play the last round safe as I was so tired and didn't want to get so far and get knocked out due to stupidity. Then Jovan shouts up, 3 minutes, that's all you have left. I can still go 180 seconds, I reckoned and when the bell went I came out all guns blazing. I had decided to go for the knock out or at least a couple of knock downs, because I reckoned I was too far behind on points at that stage. I chased that scummy little hobo all around the ring, mostly with punches, and sent him reeling a few times. About two minutes in I hit him with a sweet left hook and his eyes rolled, but as I stepped in to deliver some 'pricks justice' the bastard of a ref stepped in and told him not to hold the ropes. Then told him again just to be sure. That was all he needed though and he was back in the game. Anyway, he came looking for the clinch and he got one. A nice little knee followed by a throw that sent him tumbling like my grades, the same year I started tripping. Make that plummeting, plummeting like a.. a... a fat fucking, eye poking cheater. Big in plummeting circles, trust me. Anyway, it turns out that throw was enough and I won on points. Well one point, apparently but who cares. I was shocked though, I didn't think I had done enough in terms of point scoring technique to beat him but I guess I had. And I really must have if 3 Thai refs thought so.
And just to prove I am as gracious in victory as defeat, I would like to thank my gracious opponent for a good fight. Enjoy your twenty mile drive home in the back of a pick up truck, you fat cheating bastard.
Training went ok for this one but I came in a bit too hard at the start and kind of tapered off about ten days out and even needed a day and a half off a few days before it. That shot the confidence a bit so I was nervous as unholy fuck on the day. With the added pressure of two of my training compadres from home. And if that wasn't enough one of those friends was making a video he hoped to turn into a documentary or as Charlie Brooker might say a 'shock-u-mentally'.
Anyway, I was just about sorted in the head department when someone told me that he'd knocked out a big guy from Lanna gym and that he was a tough little bastard. Thanks cunt. So got into the ring and did me wee spirit dance and what not, and we were off to the first round. The usual feeling out stuff really, he went for an early clinch which I just couldn't dominate successfully. This wasn't good cause that was kind of the game plan and I wasn't thinking sharp enough to try and switch it up. It's not that he was that good at clinch but he was fantastic at stuffing mine. And he was the dirtiest bastard to ever set foot in a ring. Poking the eyes, fish hooking, nose bars, the fucking lot. With a face that wouldn't melt butter.
Anyway, at the end of round one I felt quite worn out, which wasn't good at all. I decided I better hold a little back in case it went the distance. So I held off for a while and didn't try anything fancy, just kept it going with the basics. Just went for good point scoring shots and tried to finish in the clinch. I was very tired by the fourth and conceded about six points at the very end of the round in the clinch. He was going for fast, ineffective knees. Not going to do me damage anywhere except the score sheet. I was that tired by the middle of the fourth that I actually considered just lying down after the next hard hit, but when it landed I saw red and gave it back harder than I got it, so well done to whichever part of me takes care of that stuff, cause I wanted out.
So, standing up for the fifth I felt as though there were a frenchman living in my head. A frenchman who hadn't worked out how to flush the toilet properly either. I had decided to play the last round safe as I was so tired and didn't want to get so far and get knocked out due to stupidity. Then Jovan shouts up, 3 minutes, that's all you have left. I can still go 180 seconds, I reckoned and when the bell went I came out all guns blazing. I had decided to go for the knock out or at least a couple of knock downs, because I reckoned I was too far behind on points at that stage. I chased that scummy little hobo all around the ring, mostly with punches, and sent him reeling a few times. About two minutes in I hit him with a sweet left hook and his eyes rolled, but as I stepped in to deliver some 'pricks justice' the bastard of a ref stepped in and told him not to hold the ropes. Then told him again just to be sure. That was all he needed though and he was back in the game. Anyway, he came looking for the clinch and he got one. A nice little knee followed by a throw that sent him tumbling like my grades, the same year I started tripping. Make that plummeting, plummeting like a.. a... a fat fucking, eye poking cheater. Big in plummeting circles, trust me. Anyway, it turns out that throw was enough and I won on points. Well one point, apparently but who cares. I was shocked though, I didn't think I had done enough in terms of point scoring technique to beat him but I guess I had. And I really must have if 3 Thai refs thought so.
And just to prove I am as gracious in victory as defeat, I would like to thank my gracious opponent for a good fight. Enjoy your twenty mile drive home in the back of a pick up truck, you fat cheating bastard.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
What goes on tour...
Wow, it's been a while eh?
Where to begin? Pedro came up with another idea for a tour which this time was a visit to the hill tribe people. I didn't like the sound of it to be honest but after he made sucha good call on the elephant trek I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
We started of in the orchid farm witht the butterflys, same as last time only no kids with gravelly knees this time. Then we were back on a bus for hours, until we stopped to get fed at some terrible roadside diner. A thin gruel followed by some plain rice, if I recall. Anyway, it was back on the bus and on to somewhere else. To be quite honest, I can't remember the order in which we did things, except that we spent 7 of the 9 1/2 hours on a stupid bus, occasionally being herded off to gawp at the locals, take a few snaps and get back into our now warmed up mini bus. A lot like a certain chosen people of Isreal during the early half the last century, except we were allowed tro take pictures and there was no death camp. Though at times, I wouldn't have minded. Mainly because I am blonde haired and blue eyed, and know all the words to the German anthem.
We visited some hermits cave with a load of buddha statues in, which was pretty cool. We also went to some mountqain temple where we could look into Burma or some other identical South East Asian country. But mostly it was sitting on a bus, waiting for a half an hour of culture and trying to take max's mind of getting sick.
We took quite a few picture and if you saw them you'd think it was the best day out ever, but in fairness, it was entirely down to the quality of the company and nothing to do with the tour itself.
Right, another blog to follow, possibly after dinner
Where to begin? Pedro came up with another idea for a tour which this time was a visit to the hill tribe people. I didn't like the sound of it to be honest but after he made sucha good call on the elephant trek I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
We started of in the orchid farm witht the butterflys, same as last time only no kids with gravelly knees this time. Then we were back on a bus for hours, until we stopped to get fed at some terrible roadside diner. A thin gruel followed by some plain rice, if I recall. Anyway, it was back on the bus and on to somewhere else. To be quite honest, I can't remember the order in which we did things, except that we spent 7 of the 9 1/2 hours on a stupid bus, occasionally being herded off to gawp at the locals, take a few snaps and get back into our now warmed up mini bus. A lot like a certain chosen people of Isreal during the early half the last century, except we were allowed tro take pictures and there was no death camp. Though at times, I wouldn't have minded. Mainly because I am blonde haired and blue eyed, and know all the words to the German anthem.
We visited some hermits cave with a load of buddha statues in, which was pretty cool. We also went to some mountqain temple where we could look into Burma or some other identical South East Asian country. But mostly it was sitting on a bus, waiting for a half an hour of culture and trying to take max's mind of getting sick.
We took quite a few picture and if you saw them you'd think it was the best day out ever, but in fairness, it was entirely down to the quality of the company and nothing to do with the tour itself.
Right, another blog to follow, possibly after dinner
Friday, August 3, 2007
The boys are back in town
Well last week and this week saw the arrival of two of my 'friends' from Dublin, Colin and Max. They both moved into my place and have settled in nicely, which is cool coz since mark left there's been no-one to laugh at my fart jokes and various unfounded racial slurs.
The training is going even better now as neither of the two will let me half a half arsed day. I was in a bit of a funk because I had sort of shot my load, so to speak, training wise about 3 quarters of the way through the lead up. Not unlike the writers for 24 in that respect. But I'm back on track now and training hard for a fight on the 17th, which will lead me nicely into a drink fuelled orgy of destruction, as I desperately try to fulfil the prophecy of death before the age of 30. I'll have 4 days which I think should be plenty based on previous orgies.
Colin is going to make some form of documentary about me and my trip so that should be... well, I won't be watching it, let's leave it at that. He tried to make a video of him wrestling the Bjj champ Pedro but apparently I spoiled it with a series of rape jokes in the background. Spoiled, or fixed? Well spoiled, to be honest.
Right I guess that's it for today, but I'm going on one of those treks tomorrow to see the hill tribes so there may be plenty of mirth in the coming days. And of course plenty of dick jokes. Oh, and I just found out that Pete and Lurtie will be over next month and they'll be bringing Emmet, so anyone whos been missing my particular brand of humor need only wait for Emmet to rob my new jokes and stick them in his act.
Peace out homies.
The training is going even better now as neither of the two will let me half a half arsed day. I was in a bit of a funk because I had sort of shot my load, so to speak, training wise about 3 quarters of the way through the lead up. Not unlike the writers for 24 in that respect. But I'm back on track now and training hard for a fight on the 17th, which will lead me nicely into a drink fuelled orgy of destruction, as I desperately try to fulfil the prophecy of death before the age of 30. I'll have 4 days which I think should be plenty based on previous orgies.
Colin is going to make some form of documentary about me and my trip so that should be... well, I won't be watching it, let's leave it at that. He tried to make a video of him wrestling the Bjj champ Pedro but apparently I spoiled it with a series of rape jokes in the background. Spoiled, or fixed? Well spoiled, to be honest.
Right I guess that's it for today, but I'm going on one of those treks tomorrow to see the hill tribes so there may be plenty of mirth in the coming days. And of course plenty of dick jokes. Oh, and I just found out that Pete and Lurtie will be over next month and they'll be bringing Emmet, so anyone whos been missing my particular brand of humor need only wait for Emmet to rob my new jokes and stick them in his act.
Peace out homies.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)