The original cage fighter

I was in the checkout line at the grocery store last week, leafing through the Archie Digest when I heard the squeak of a lesser man's voice.  I turned to find the grocery clerk gesturing at my bags, asking "Sir, do you need any help taking these out to your car?" 

I put the Archie Digest back without paying for it like any man with the testosterone of one thousand rampaging bulls would do.  Then I looked at him, flexed my massive arms, and snarled, "Do I *look* like I need any help?"  The clerk immediately soiled himself and dropped into the fetal position.  You might ask me why I was so callous to take an action that obviously mentally broke this man forever, never to recover.  And I would simply answer this is what a cage fighter does.

That is the point of this series - and as an aside, my wife asked me what indicated something like *this* would be a series, and my answer is simple - this post title ends with the word "Introduction".  Obvious to the trained reader!  Anyway, the point of this series is to give you some exposure into what it's like to be a man like me, who pretty much fights in kumates every single night.  Sometimes they are physical kumates, sometimes they are software development kumates, and sometimes they are kumates on the dance floor, but nevertheless my record is currently one billion to zero. 

People think being a cage fighter/kumate master is not all fun and games, but trust me when I say it is.  Just look at the fun Steven Seagal has in any of his multitude of movies from the 90s.  Little known secret: if you have ever seen any Steven Seagal movie, you have seen something loosely based on my everyday exploits.  That is, except for the one where he is in a coma for 10 years straight, then comes out of it one day and *immediately* starts beating the crap out of people with hospital utilities - that is actually a complete rip off of my life from the ages of 7 to 17. 

Each week or so, we will be exploring the following topics:

• I will regale you with an amazing story of my ferocious physicality
• You will marvel at this feat and make a mental note never to tell your wives, girlfriends or pets about this blog lest you destroy your relationship forever
• On certain installments, you might be lucky enough to get a fitness tip that will lead you - should you choose, no, dare to implement it - to become a raging 1% body fat, 575 thousand pound engine of destruction

A disclaimer:

This is not some series for nancy boys who like charting waist-to-hip ratios, so if you're busy counting calories on FitDay, telling your developer friends how that cheesecake went straight to your thighs, gorging on McDonalds each weekend and then crying your eyes out under a pile of pizza boxes, I recommend you unsubscribe from this blog immediately.  Instead, if you are looking to become the He-Man or She-Ra of your friends and peers so that like them, you will be ripped and toned enough to wear bondage gear in public without the slightest hint of embarassment, this is the place to be!!