In my quest to improve on my freakish symmetry, I've been working out. Core work - not pumping iron, but it's serious shit. So, a few weeks after my last session with the trainer, he approaches me in the gym:
"When do you want to do another session?" He wants to admire my freakish symmetry, clearly.
"Umm, what did you have in mind?" I fear him
"POWER LIFTING," He's not joking.
Fuck. I did deadlifts - ONCE. About 15 years ago. Torqued my hamstrings so bad that I never did them again. Nowadays, I'm 30, with creaking body parts all over: neck kinks, shoulder problems, knee problems, back problems, and perpetual various muscle malodies. So I was working with Big Show to try to set the proper lines on odds of injuring various body parts:
Field (Earlobe, toe, finger, O-ring, scrotum, hammer): 8-1
Now I know what you're thinking: "Kid Dynamite, how can anyone injure their hammer while they are working out?" Well, let me tell you. Back in the day, which was about 1996, Me and Big Show were lifting, doing lateral dumbell raises with old school hexagonal dumbells. Go ahead, click on that link right now, enjoy the avatar, and try to anticipate what is coming next...
Yes - on the down motion, I accidentally (talk about fucking REDUNDANT) clapped the tip of my hammer between the two dumbells. Believe me: this is a mistake you only make once in your life.
I distinctly remember trying to maintain my composure as I froze, calmly put the weights back on the rack, and slowly limped to the bathroom to assess the damage: an immediate purple bruise. Thankfully, it still worked and there was no lasting damage.
Someday, Chops and I are going to write a top notch screenplay based on the lives of Kid Dynamite and the Wicked Chops Crew. With adventures like these, who needs fiction.
until next time,