Snake, or Cake? [Reposted from my other blog]

If anyone wants to read the original, unedited version, let me know and I will send it right along. Didn't have anything original to say, today, but wanted to put something up for my Faithful Few ;-)

Are you a snake eater, or a cake eater?
Current mood: contemplative.

Are you hardcore? I wont judge anybody, but I want to hear your story. In kindergarten, I liked a Chicano girl named Tina, who was rather chubby. Joe, my classmate, called her fat. I whacked Joe upside the head with a building block. We got to visit with the Principal.

At six, I wrestled with my sister Pam. In the process, I smashed her head into the terrazzo floor, and broke her front teeth. My other sister, Jo, and I disagreed, so I stabbed her right under the eye with a pencil. I argued with my dog, Lucky. He snarled at me as he walked away, looking back at me as he walked. He walked right into the wall. I howled at that son of a bitch.

We had a play in eighth grade about boxing. I got to act across from that retard, Archie. He got carried away and really began to fight as we rehearsed. I popped him upside the head as the principal came along and asked what the Hell we were doing. I replied rehearsing.

We played slaps in ninth grade. I jumped my hand out of the way three times and had to endure free slaps from Mark Harris. After high school, he became a Florida State Trooper. He pulled some woman over on the Sunshine State Parkway, raped her and killed her. He lives in Raiford State Prison [Rapeford].

In indoor soccer, I was in goal and took a knee in the ribs. Broke two ribs. I finished the game. We lost, 14 8. I slept on a water bed. Boy, THAT was a hoot.

In Aviation Officer Candidate School [AOCS think that old Richard Gere movie An Officer and a Gentleman], the dentists pulled out all four of my wisdom teeth. We had to eat everything on out plate or face the consequences with our USMC drill instructor. We had corn tortillas that night. I ate them. Later, I noticed a bone sticking out of my gum. The dentist numbed the area and stuffed it back in. Several times. Finally I got pissed-off at the process, and used a tweezers to pull the bone fragment loose. About the size of a toothpick, and stank to high heaven. Shades of Joe Charbonneau.

The theory was that the stress of sitting on the flight deck, awaiting the steam catapult to shoot you into space, was about equal to the stress of someone trying to beat your head in. So, we all got boxing training. I got to fight Pete Tomczak, Tomcat. He hit me on the nose, which pissed me off, so I rat-a-tatted his head. Dave Busch "Busch Pilot" proclaimed Theres Machine Gun Wally. It stuck. Later, in a drunken midnight Taco Bell fiasco [drive through] he would loudly proclaim "I want a beanreeno". Classic. That was right after drunken nude midnight pool volleyball, where the Shore Patrol got called. We didnt get caught.

Outdoor soccer. We played against the SEALS I got hit so hard once, I rolled over backward and couldnt get off my head for many seconds. The SEAL got a yellow card. Go to McGurks in Coronado.

I tracked down a fly ball in left field once, and hit the chain link fence as I caught the ball. Got a white stripe on my jeans, but no blood. Scar tissue to match, though, and dropped the ball.

Outdoor soccer again, my friend Pedro hit me so hard my Xiphoid Process popped. I got 20 goals that year. Word.

Fell asleep walking once, in the Indian Ocean, where we had been on three hours of sleep for months. I was driving USS FLINT [AE-32], and lost a couple of steps coming in from the bridge wing. Woke me right up!

I bite my fingertips until they bleed for the release I feel afterward. Really. Sometimes they turn green or black. I wear a kilt at certain events. I listen to the Sex Pistols and the Clash. Are you hardcore? Tell me about it. machinegunwally sends