Play-By-Play On My Fantazmo Half-Marathon

I'm a day late because I nearly died last night. But congratulations to America for finally capturing and killing Osama Bin Laden. I'm not quite sure I believe it, but congratulations anyway. As for something more important, I ran a half-marathon on Sunday and boy did it suck ass! For those of you who know nothing about athletics, a half marathon is 13.1 miles. And I ran it in 2:33:12.09. That comes out to an average of 11:41 per mile. Not bad for a fat idiot who ran no more than 10 times in the last 5 years. And I beat my sister to boot. I won't tell you why, however.

(Pussy)

I'd like to explain what I observed. So my wake-up call was at 5:50 a.m. I haven't woken up that early since I don't remember. That sucked. Then my sister and I drove 52 miles to the race getting stuck in traffic once we got off the exit. We park and the first trip to the port-a-potty was in order. Next we get on the shuttle bus and we sit watching the people who are extreme runners. Girls with watches making funny noises, guys in shorts that barely cover their sack, old men with wrinkly skin smelling like rotten cheese. A great day was in order.

We get off the bus and make our way to the start of the race. People were warming up by running sprints. Who runs sprints right before they have to run 13.1 miles? People who shop at Trader Joe's and other liberal assholes, I assume. I get to the boardwalk and stand in line with the other 8-11,000 people and think to myself, "why did you agree to this?" The nerves hit my stomach. It's not like I was competing to win, but once a runner always a runner. The pack in front of me begins to move. Race time.

My sister and I decided to run along side each other for as long as possible. Due to my not being in shape, I didn't think I was going to last very long, but I was going to give it my all regardless. We get to the first mile marker and high five. I swear I'm straight. It was motivating and the countdown began for me. 12 miles to go. Our pace was about 10 minutes a mile and I knew that was way too quick for this guy. I slowed down. Meanwhile I'm listening to Kanye West as if that's some sort of motivating musician.

3 miles more and the fun began. We broke off. Mile 4 to mile 12, I ran alone. Just me and Kanye. Kanye and I. What do you think about when you're running by yourself for such a long period of time? Everything. Eating, the girl's butt in front of you, not a combination of the first two, dying, crying, quitting. It all boils down to your psyche. Mentally telling yourself not to quit because it's so easy to. I kept going. Surprisingly, one of my motivating factors was the amount of fat people running in front of me. Fat people shouldn't be running faster than me. I had to make sure I surpassed them all, otherwise I'd hate myself.

I got all the way to mile 6 without stopping. 6 miles down, 7 to go. Fuck this shit, is what I kept repeating to myself. I walked. I watched as people less attractive and more heavy passed me by. I started running again. Oh, and real quick. They had these hydration stations with gatorade and water. However, they were diluting the gatorade with...wait for it. Hose water. Hose water. I know you know what hose water tastes like. Now imagine mixing that with lemon-lime gatorade. Garbage. But I needed it so I suffered through. Back to my lack of dominance.

My feet and legs started giving out. I had blisters all over my feet. My ankles started to hurt. My knees were crackling. My butt hurt. I felt like I was falling apart. I kept on going. I get to mile 12 and I'm alternating between running and walking. I hear someone yell, "Mike". I turn around to see my sibling gaining ground. I shake my head no and take off. I'm super competitive. I hate losing, no matter what it is. My will power took over. I started running hard. She got real close. But with my last ounce of strength, I took off. I beat her by 26 seconds. Had she not stopped, I would have been dominated by 5 minutes. But she did. And I beat her. Scummy? Perhaps. But I like winning.

To make an unnecessarily long story a bit shorter, I feel like shit today. I'm suffering from blisters on each one of my toes. My knees feel like I switched bodies with Yogi Berra. My traps hurt. I don't know how that's even impossible. I got some real bad chaffing. Like real bad. I've been walking like someone shoved a huge stick up my ass. I slept for 11 hours. Now I'm writing a blog about it. It just goes to show you how much "I am better than you."

(Winners)

Disney Princesses: Who Would You Penetrate?

I was very fortunate to have an older sister growing up. She got to dress me up like Dorothy, put make-up on me to make me look like a clown, I got to play with her Barbies when she wasn't home, and last but not least, watch all of the Disney princess movies. Those movies were the shit, I don't care what anybody says. From the countless number of times I've seen "The Little Mermaid", "Beauty and the Beast", "The Lion King", "Aladdin" and countless others, nothing can ever compare. So when I went to college and talked to my friends, both male and female, about their favorite princesses, I got overwhelming responses. Now I would like to debate which Disney princess I would most want to have sexes with.

Cinderella - This one is for all the conservative purists out there. I don't wanna hear about how I can't concoct a list without including the greatest Disney princess of them all. Well the truth of the matter is I don't like her frilly blond hair, her adoration of birds, or her dumbass headband. In fact, I don't like Cinderella at all. She is easily the most boring, lame princess of all of them. I only put her on here because I felt like I had to. She brings nothing to the table, so I'm done with her.

Ariel - It really broke my heart to list Ariel at number 4, but sometimes that's the way life goes. By all means I would love to penetrate Ariel, but the problem I see here is, where? Everything below her belly-button is covered by her fin. And yes I saw the movie, and yes I know she becomes a "human" or something. But we're talking about when she was hot. I mean, look at that shell-top bikini. That just screams sex. And that red-hair? Dazzling. I wonder if the curtains match the carpet. Either way, she's pretty awesome.

Jasmine - Another no-brainer. Look at her with those eloquent earrings and sophisticated headband thing. I don't know if it's a tiara, nor do I give a shit really. But yowza! I've seen Aladdin more times than I can count on all of my digits, and it never gets easier to stop lusting over this sweet diddy. It's as if she's wearing those UFO pants that were popular amongst the Hot Topic boys in the late 90s. Except she can pull it off. And her long, beautiful hair is delightful. If you haven't seen Kim Kardashian dressed as Jasmine, I suggest you Google it now.

Belle - A lot of my southern friends liked Belle because they have this "southern belle" complex. At least that's how I diagnosed it. But I can't argue much with them. She's pretty wonderful by every stretch of the imagination. Yellow isn't my favorite color in the world, but she's so pretty that she can wear whatever she wants. That also includes nothing. Bright green eyes, and rose petals in her hair. What are you doing to us Walt? Perfectly shaped red-lips and straight white teeth to go along with it. She exemplifies what I want in a woman. Someone out of my league.

Nala - This one's a no-brainer. Of all the Disney princesses in the history of animated film-making , Nala wins Grand Prize. With a cute as a button nose, and a ferocious tail that could knock me the fuck out, she takes my heart and runs away with it. Another example of Disney melting our hearts with those lush green eyes and perfectly symmetrical eyebrows. All the makings of the Queen of Disney. I think Nala was created when Walt was still alive, but held back until the animation was so technologically advanced, they could present her in all of her true glory. Nala is number 1.

I know you think I'm a sick son-of-a-bitch because I picked an animal as the best Disney princess. And I'm ranking cartoon characters that I would fornicate with. But you're the sick one for actually reading it. And there's nothing wrong with liking animals. I doubt you will disagree with my rankings because they are 100% correct. But if you still find fault with them, give up because "I am better than you."

Nice Guys Finish Last, Even In The Bedroom

I learned a lot of things this weekend. Being nice, when it involves dating and relationships is the wrong route to go. For some reason, females tend to have a problem with guys who treat them well. Why exactly? I don't have an official answer, but one that I conjured up with the enormous brain I carry around all day long. Girls enjoy the challenge of breaking down a guy with "mysterious" qualities. He needs to have an edge, something that separates him from everyone else. If he's a dickhead, surely there is a reason as to why. But what dumbass girls don't understand is, there is NO reason, except to get in your pants.

Women, girls, or cooks/cleaners, whatever it is you refer to them as, like two types of guys. 1) A guy who treats them like shit and is a complete asshole and 2) A guy with a lot of experience, especially in the bedroom. The reason they like assholes is because they see it as a way to try and figure out why he is an asshole and try to change him. The reason they like guys with a shit ton of experience is rather obvious. Because they know what the fuck they're doing. And if you can find a guy that has both qualities, well in the world of female thinking, they just hit the fucking jackpot.

Every so many years I hear people at accredited universities and colleges run tests and do experiments and conduct research and claim that women on the average are smarter than men. I would like to meet every one of these pieces of shit and kick them all in the throat. Not only do girls have zero intelligence, they are all fucking lunatics. Every single one of them is crazy in some aspect. For Christ's sake they don't even know what they want in a man. Yeah I know, someone with money, who is tall, well-educated, handsome, and a piece of shit who treats them like the neighborhood stray. Get your heads out of your asses and open your fucking minds, you supposed smart-asses.

I have a sister. She recently met a guy who is too nice. Yes, too nice. Never in my life have I considered that to be a negative quality. But when I was told by the four other girls in the room that being too nice is a problem, I nearly had a seizure. Being with a guy who is too nice is too predictable. He always does the right thing, and good God-Almighty that is 100% unacceptable. All of them are so wrapped up in finding something that doesn't exist. Like dinosaurs. If someone opens the door for you, and pays for dinner, and walks you home, they clearly have good moral values. But if they don't return your texts, or go Dutch on dinner, and then bang you and never speak to you again, they are suddenly intriguing. Being a cook/cleaner must be the worst thing ever.

So this weekend taught me so many things. Never treat a girl with respect, because they will not find any interest in you. Make sure you bang as many things as you can because the better you are at it, the better they will like you. And never, ever let them finish first. Having sex is like running in a race. The faster you finish, the better off you are. But if you are a nice guy you will always finish last. In terms of relationships, life, and sex, it is better to always finish first. Because assholes finish first and when I do finally have sexual intercourse I will win because not only am I better than her, but "I am better than you."

Celery: Sometimes The Devil Wears Green, Not Prada

As most of my college friends know, I have a problem with celery. This problem stalks, I mean starts with a very unfortunate incident that took place too many years ago. For those of you who don't know the "Celery Story", brace yourselves because it is easily the shittiest and worst of all my terrible stories. Just so you know, I withheld this story from my closest friends until I graduated college. That's four years of amping up a story that has no bearing whatsoever on you at all. Yet, I kept building and building until finally they didn't care about it anymore. And just like that graduation came and the story was told. And no, celery was never stuck up my ass like some had suggested. Here we go.

It was around the year 2000. A new millenium. A time to embrace Y2K. A time to visit my grandmother's house. My grandmother was very close to me, so I never minded going to her house. Plus, she always had Twizzlers. So my mom, sister, and me venture over to her house to hang out on a Saturday afternoon. The typical Saturday involved going out to eat, maybe a little shopping and the eventual storytelling for 15 hours. Those Saturday's were the best. Nothing to worry about. No hangover, no problem.

Since I was always a phenomenal athlete and a registered in-shape guru, I had probably run like 30 miles earlier in the day in about 20 minutes. Which meant that I was really thirsty. Like I had never been before. And my sister was also just as thirsty, oddly. So we ask our grandmother what she had for us. It was either going to be a glass of water (Blah!). People who drink water are clearly the most boring people you will ever meet. Or it was going to be Dr. Brown's Celery Soda. Yes, you read that correctly. Celery Soda. A concoction of celery, carbon, and sugar. And God knows what other shit bottling companies throw in there.

Those who are very close to me know I'm not much of a risk taker. Very conservative thinker with my best intentions in mind. Today was a different day though because I chose to drink the Celery Soda. Writing this down right now is very difficult for me. So I crack open the can and take a sip. Putrid. Vomit-inducing. The taste is the absolute worst thing I have ever put in my mouth. My gut tells me no more, but my brain says finish it. So I chug the remainder of the can, like a dumb ass. The biggest mistake I have ever made in an otherwise perfect life. My sister isn't much of a fan either, but she maintains to keep it together.

I'm miserable for the rest of the day there. No amount of Twizzlers will subdue the shit I just swallowed. In fact, shit may have been a better choice to swallow at that point in time. Regardless, we get home and I brush my teeth and head to sleep. I awake at 2:30 a.m. to produce a healthy amount of vomit into my trash. Puking my guts up like I was beyond blacked out. I go brush my teeth again to reduce the taste of vomit/celery in my mouth, but nothing will do. I go back to sleep. The next morning I wake up and make a pledge to myself to never go near celery again.

Chicken Wings are now ruined if they touch celery. When my mom makes soup, I need to leave because the scent of celery makes me naseous. Celery is officially banned from my life. What also bothers me about celery, is that girls eat it because it's the only food that burns more calories than it contains or some yuppy shit like that. How about just working out, instead of putting that devilish, disgusting product in your mouth? I don't respect people who eat celery or threaten to put it in my mouth, ears, or nostrils when I am sleeping. Let this be a lesson to all of you that I do not tolerate celery or those who eat it. If you are a friend and you want to remain friends, then stop eating it. I won this battle because I always tell celery that, "I am better than you."