Sunday, August 1, 2010

The Part where I am Stabbed by a Masai Spear

It was a good week.  The apparel and textile production "busy" season is officially over, and I was able to take a few deep breaths, leave my apartment, and think about things outside of my profession.  How pleasant.

Actually, it was more than good.  I started training again, this time at the Wild Card Boxing Club of Hollywood.  It is the same gym that Manny Pacquiao trains at when he is in the States, as well as many other world-class amateurs and professionals, and I am learning a lot just from being in close proximity to all of these top-level guys.  I have a good rapport with my new coach, a former world champion in his own right, and a funny dude.  Rumor is, I have "rhythm for a white boy."

Also, I was running on the boardwalk in the evenings, followed by a quick dip in the ocean to catch some waves via body surfing.  I would then watch the sun go down while sitting on the beach and thinking deep and inspiring thoughts, such as "what should I make for dinner," and "that girl is pretty hot."

Never trust too much good stuff at one time.  After being inspired by The Art of Manliness's post on Man Caves, I decided that I must have one.  I immediately set to, rearranging furniture out of and into my spare bedroom, putting up vintage boxing posters, and stocking it with bourbon and other necessities.

Years ago, my Grandma Bev had brought me back a Masai spear from her trip to Kenya.  It was a perfect accent to my man-cave-in-progress, and I had set it on the ground while determining a good place for it.  It was at this point that I tripped, falling forward and kicking the sharp end of the killing device.  With one edge firmly planted against the wall, the business end stabbed through the meaty part of my foot at a 45 degree angle.  I had propelled myself forward with so much force that the end against the wall embedded itself at least a quarter inch deep into the drywall.  I didn't look how deep it had gone into my foot, but it took a long time to pull it all the way out.  Sure enough, the metal blade was completely rusted over.  Tetanus shots, joy!

I found an Urgent Care Center that was still open, and they stuck needles in me, gave me antibiotics, and a candy for being such a good patient.

Now I am limping along with a hole in my foot, a sore arm, and flu-like symptoms as a reaction to all the medication.  However, I got to do some fishing off a dock with my brother today, and while I caught a perch and a stingray, he didn't catch shit but seaweed. 

Overall, a good week.



Kill said...

Obviously, I would be significantly more pumped if you had fallen down and the spear had stabbed you in the neck or lodged the business end firmly in your eye socket if you were writing your blog after that: big tough guy points. Almost enough tough guy points to make up for the fact that you actually have a blog.
Oh well, wishful thinking.

Awesome about Wild card by the way. I have heard nothing but good stuff about that gym for years.

Allison said...

Not to take away from the "ruggedness" of this post, but my favourite part was when you got candy from the doctor.

Did you tell them how you stabbed your foot? Makes me think of the show House - the clinic hours scenes.

Anonymous said...

Yes!! I too enjoy the thought of you hopping around all cripple-like. Warms my insides. However, I will concede that getting candy after stabbing yourself with a Masai spear is pretty sweet. We shall call you Boy Who Can't Man Spear.

Venom said...

So... it seems I may have been the only one who was hung up one the whole mind visual of you boxing and then body surfing?
I gotta say, I lost focus when it came to the stabbing. Icky.
Manly, but icky.

Juliana said...


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