I just got home from working a 13.5 hour shift, hoping for a nice, quiet evening. After my shower, maybe read a little bit, play with the cat some, or hell, just stare at the walls for an hour or two before I pass out. Instead, what do I get? A group of drunken idiots challenging each other to the game of Hit Me So I Can Prove My Manhood... and Idiocy..

Now, I can be a masochist at times, though mostly the mental kind. In my teens I did some stupid stuff to my body but after a while I realized, yes, pain hurts. So I stopped doing those stupid things. But never did I intentionally challenge my friends that they couldn't hit me hard enough in the chest and cause me to lose my balance. Seriously, I'm not making this up.

Here, let me set the scene for you. Five guys, mid-20s, I'd say, dressed as if they won a shopping spree from Abercrombie & Fitch or Gap. You know, white t-shirt, crisp short sleeve button down shirt (some with a random print, others just a single color or with stripes), khaki pants, just screaming "Hey! Look at me! I'm a douche bag and I can prove it!" And all but one of them is obviously drunk. The one that appears to be sober is either the designated driver or has drank himself into silence. But I'm pretty sure he's sober because he has the same head-shaking reaction as I do. Problem is, he's their friend. Poor guy.

One of them, we'll call him Ring Leader ('cause there's always one in a group) says to all of his friends, "I bet nunna you can hit me in the chest and make me lose my footing." Outside of the Head Shaker, all of them then form a line. Which, by the way, doesn't say much when all your friends line up to punch you in the sternum. Either you need better friends or your clothes aren't the only thing solidifying your douche bagginess.

So Ring Leader gets ready, a stance as if he's about to spar with Ali but his arms slack at his sides. The first guy takes a swing, lands in his chest, and Ring Leader laughs it off, his body only absorbing the hit but his feet not moving. The second guy, the same thing. The third guy, though, we'll call him Slugger, stands as if he's about to box as well. He takes a few deep breaths and very quickly his fist flies to Ring Leader's chest. It's at this point that I grabbed the phone, ready to call for an ambulance. Slugger was no chump. Why Ring Leader challenged Slugger to this is beyond me but I'm pretty sure if Ring Leader were sober, this whole stupid situation would not have occurred. Seriously, Slugger was a big dude.

But Ring Leader, he's a tough guy, even though I could have sworn I saw Slugger's fist try to break through the skin on Ring Leader's back like a damn cartoon. Obviously Ring Leader lost his balance, then he fell to the ground gasping for air. Everyone but Slugger and the Quiet Guy was surprised and went to help Ring Leader up. This, though, was a mistake, as if Slugger and Quiet Guy knew something. Ring Leader was so pissed, after he finally caught his breath and stood up, he said, "Alright a$$hole, this time I'm ready," and serious as if he was hoping Slugger would do it again. There were a few laughs and the Party of Idiots quickly dispersed.

Now, I don't know what goes through someone's head when they challenge people (especially someone the size of Slugger) to hit them as hard as they can in the chest but apparently nothing went through Ring Leader's head because his skull is too thick. Freakin' neanderthals.

All I'm saying is if Ring Leader wanted a challenge, it was obvious all he had to do was to try to not be an idiot. And I say that as kind as possible. Really, I do. Ok, maybe I don't.

Comments

FullFlavorPike Oct. 4, 2009 @ 1:41 a.m.

I've actually played the game of "the game of Hit Me So I Can Prove My Manhood" once or twice. And I was actually kind of good at it, too. We would go for shoulder punches though, taking turns until someone cried "uncle."

What can I say--I was once 20.

I'm also wicked glad, sometimes, that I don't live over a bar like you do, dude. I mean, I live in this lightless torture dungeon of an apartment. It is truly one of the most depressing places I have ever been forced--by poverty and/or laziness--to spend long stretches of my time. But, except for the neighbor's annoying stereo, it's pretty quiet. Definitely get the Cop Copter going over at least once a night (read, "right now"), but still pretty quiet. You do us all a service by living over that bar, Adam. Keep at it!

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nan shartel Oct. 4, 2009 @ 5:34 a.m.

YIKES!!!!!

couldn't they just measure their .....???????

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CuddleFish Oct. 4, 2009 @ 6:02 a.m.

LOL Nan!!!!! That's what they were doing, the hard way!!!

Great read, Adam, thanks! Pike, my dad lived over a bar, and his business was next door. I always knew where to find him, day or night! But it was really quiet. There's a place around here, the infamous Malena's, that the neighbors tried to get shut down for years, never happened. About two years ago, it caught fire, and the place is just sagging black walls now. Frankly, I miss the action. Always something going on at night when Malena's was open.

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FullFlavorPike Oct. 5, 2009 @ 12:14 a.m.

Let's reopen it--Blog Bar, we'll serve literary cocktails.

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Adam92102 Oct. 5, 2009 @ 9:34 a.m.

And don't ask for ID at the door. Make them take an entrance test. Nothing difficult, just focus on spelling because if u kant speel, u r not kool.

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Robert Johnston Oct. 5, 2009 @ 3:44 p.m.

Yo, Adam!

Now you know why I limit my beer intake when I go out to my favorite tavern (Smitty's Dowtown in Vista). Two is my limit--then I switch to Diet Coke for the rest of the session.

Seeing what happens to young folks who mix testosterone, booze, and attitude problems just goes to show anybody who cares to look that:

A) Money doesn't confer brains.

B) The pain you feel when pie-eyed goes tenfold the morning afterwards.

C) Boozing and Bruising never proves your machismo--only your stupidity, especially the next morning.

D) It's more fun to watch bar fights than to participate in them--and safer as well!

E) A roundhouse punch to a opponent's head doesn't solve your problems--it merely exacerbates them!

F) How macho can you truly feel after winning a bar fight--with only a pair of steel linked bracelets on your wrists as the prize?

Well, gotta start dinner!

--RKJ

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SurfPuppy619 Oct. 5, 2009 @ 5:09 p.m.

We used to get drunk and play chicken about getting tattoos!

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CuddleFish Oct. 5, 2009 @ 5:15 p.m.

Let's reopen it--Blog Bar, we'll serve literary cocktails.

By FullFlavorPike 12:14 a.m., Oct 5, 2009

And maybe we can get Reader admin to pick up the tab!

Pike, you gotta make the snacks, though!

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SDaniels Oct. 6, 2009 @ 12:07 a.m.

Pike drooled: "We shall serve only bacon."

Bacon is the pancetta-cea of culinary fools.

Oh yeah? Put up yer dukes! Nyah nyah!

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PistolPete Oct. 6, 2009 @ 12:24 a.m.

Last time I went downtown to drink,I got tossed from the StarBar and pissed my pants while waiting for the bus. All in all,I'd say it was a good night. The StarBar will never get another dime from me and the poor lady who witnessed me standing there darkening my jeans will never be the same but I'll be back downtown....mark my words,I'll be back....

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