Tuesday, March 31, 2009

So....I Kind of Punched Myself in the Face.

After parking my car in a garage the other day, a very concerned woman frantically calls me over. From her actions, I think someone has died. I was right...almost.

Freakazoid: Sir. Sir. SIR! Can you come over here, Sir?!

I start reaching for my phone to call 911...she is at the point of hysteria.

Me: What's wrong?

Freakazoid: Can you save this lizard?

And I look down on the ground...and there is a five-inch long lizard lying lifeless in front of me. I stare at the lizard for about five seconds...look back up at the lady...and back down at the lizard. All I can manage to say is:

Me: Um...sure....but I think he is dead.

Freakazoid: PLEASE...SIR. SOMEONE MIGHT RUN OVER HIM. PLEEEEEEEEEEASE!!!!

And I look around to make sure no one thinks I am trying to rob her.

Me: Ok...ok...

Freakazoid: You see, sir...his tail has already been taken off. It is over there....but they can live without their tails.

This lady obviously knows a lot about lizards...and cares about them just enough to have other people save them for her.

So, I do what any man would do in such a situation. I start kicking the lizard to safety. *Kick....kick....kick*

And MAN...I am so glad I didn't bend down to pick it up...because as I start to kick the lizard (while listening to overly emotional praises for my help intermixed with another barrage of "sirs"), it ATTACKS me.

With each kick...the lizard...FANGS OUT...bites at my foot. *Kick* *Bite* *Kick* *Bite*

Me: Looks like he is still alive.

Freakazoid: Yes. Sir. They can live without their tales.

Yeah. You said that already. I end up kicking the lizard a good ten feet...his fangs flying at me accompanied with loud hissing. *HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS* I presume I saved his life...or prolonged its agony...who knows.

It was at this point I realized why this lady cared so much about this lizard in the first place. It was in the way of her getting into her car. Problem solved, she gave me a Thank you, sir. Thank you. Thank you, sir. And drove away to the sound of hissing in the background.



***

I was walking to La Jolla cove the other day, my swim bag on my shoulder. It was heavy because it had a towel and my wetsuit inside of it. Two men were playing Frisbee and kept throwing it high into the air. Very, very high.

This combination of me watching this high-thrown Frisbee and the weight of my bag was a bad combination. I tried to move the strap on my shoulder and got distracted...

BAM

My hand slid away from my strap, and my fist punched myself directly in my jaw.

I staggered. I heard a ringing. Blood started coming out of my mouth. I seriously landed a hard right...ON MYSELF.

As my teeth throbbed, I stumbled on my way.

Thinking...Man...I can really take a punch!

Who can make lemonade out of lemons?

THIS GUY!

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Tuck You

A day in the life of a guy who is still not as skinny as he should be.

By Mark Manasse


Mid morning:

I went to the dentist today. The dental assistant, Lisa, was having some issues putting the film in my mouth to take X-Rays. I have never met this person before. Alas, she still says, and I quote:

"Go figure, such a big guy with such a little, narrow mouth."

Interesting. Interesting. Way to "get to know me," Lisa. If I may retort.

Clearly, not only do men have to have a complex about how tall they are, how big their feet are, and how big their dong is...now I have to worry if my mouth is big enough? What the heck am I going to stick in there? I can't imagine the girth of anything bigger than the present width of my mouth that needs to be inserted into my "narrow" passage way. Nope. Not one thing. Not one.

On top of that..."Such a big guy." Seriously. "Such a big guy." Lisa, I'm not sure if you have looked in the mirror lately, but you were REALLY filling out your pink scrubs. I may not be a thin man, but your butt was still rubbing up against me as you left the room to protect yourself from the X-rays.

You know what I want, Lisa? I want to see a tiny guy with a really big fucking mouth. Just a midget with Andre the Giant's head. That's what I want to see. Would THAT make you happy?

"Such a big guy."

Jesus.

But...maybe she said this for a reason.

Early Morning:

One thing fat people do when they start to lose weight is they start wearing clothes in ways they shouldn't be wearing them yet. For example, I tucked my shirt in this morning. I have lost over thirty pounds the past few months, so I got all cocky....and thought I was ready for the tuck. I even asked Tauni before I left if I looked like a "fat, obese lard" with my shirt tucked in or only "kind of a fat, obese lard."

Of course, since I know where she sleeps, she is obligated to say "You look fine. Tuck your shirt in. No one will even notice." With this confidence instilled in me...I go off to the dentist.

"Go figure, such a big guy with such a little, narrow mouth" ensues.

But that wasn't the worst of it.


Early Afternoon:

On Tuesdays, I teach an advanced ESOL class. These people can fully communicate in English, but they have some lingering grammar problems, and they don't know all the words to use in all situations.

For example, during the middle of an activity I was walking around and helping people. This group of three students in the middle of the room keeps looking at me, then whispering, then looking at me again. Eventually, I say "Do you guys have a question?"

The two Asian girls get very shy and look away. Not the Latino guy, though. He starts pushing his hand down in front of his shirt mimicking a "tucking" action and asks "What do you call it when you put your shirt inside your pants?"

I say "Tuck?"

He says "Yes. Tuck. You tuck your shirt today."

I say "Wow. Yeah. I did tuck my shirt in today. I can't believe you noticed."

Then one of the Asian girls pipes up "Yeah. It looks very weird."

Thanks, sweetheart. It will look even weirder next semester when I flunk your ass.

And Tauni, you lying sack of poo, when someone asks you to distinguish between "fat and obese" and just "kind of fat and obese" don't go off script. Just pick one of the choices given to you.

Monday, March 09, 2009

More Things I Don't Like

I don't like...

When I go to a restaurant, at night, and my waitress says, "I need to go on my lunch break. So-and-so is going to take over for me." Bitch....lunch was over 10 hours ago.

That my TV pretends I have a choice when it comes to cable. I get to see commercials from many different cable providers...but because of these LOCALIZED MONOPOLIES (aren't they illegal by the way), I really have no options. I wish the commercials would just end with a funny line to at least make me feel better like "Didn't that look like a good plan...too bad you can't have it, Mark." I would at least feel special they mentioned my name on TV.

Mustard.

Turning clocks forward and back. I really think we should just pick a time and go with it. I really believe we only do this shit to mess with people anyway...and to see who doesn't watch the news for a week or speak to any other human being for days on end. I mean, we get one million warnings...and there are still people walking around Sunday AND MONDAY that have no idea they are an hour off. I call these people stanFUrd grads. Really? That was this weekend? Yes, moron. Try not masturbating in your basement with a bucket of chicken for a week so you can keep up with world events (that was just for you, Chris).

Watching a big, blue penis for three hours. Seriously...Watchmen was cool and all...and I liked that it had something called "a plot" (you don't get a lot of those these days), but I walked out of the movie wondering if it was really necessary to see a flaccid penis for the equivalent of 1/8th of my day. Hard is one thing...but nobody likes a limp wienie. Nobody. Not even Mark S. Manasse.

Heroes anymore. That show blows. I especially hate it because I keep watching it because I keep thinking it is going to be good again. But it isn't. And every week I watch it again with the same hope. I wish my hero power were to cancel that damn show already...

The Prince of Nigeria. How many times are you going to ask me to send you a check, buddy? I'm just not going to do it. Your scam isn't working on me. Just give it the hell up. I'm not even sure how you got my email...and I doubt you're royalty. Leave me the fuck alone.

Thursday, March 05, 2009

Some Firsts In Awhiles

I have often been proud of my ability not to puke. Seriously. I just don't do it. Now, I don't mean when I have been drinking or have eaten peanuts...these are instances when I must throw up.

In fact, I think my HUGE allergy to peanuts has actually made my immune system stronger in a way...like God closing a door and opening a window kind of thing....and you know how religious I am!

But my streak ended a few weeks ago. For the first time since I was a kid...I actually threw up when there was no alcohol and no peanuts involved. I actually had such TERRIBLE heartburn that BOOM...my stomach literally exploded. I had never felt such a burning sensation before, and hopefully never again...but the streak...alas...it is over.

***

In an unrelated bit of illness, I called in sick to work today...and am actually sick. I believe this is only my second time calling in sick in all my years of teaching. I feel this tremendous guilt when not showing up to school...unlike when I worked in law firms where I used my sick days as extra vacation days. As I sulked around this morning, Tauni said: "If it makes you feel any better, I loved going to school and seeing the note on the door that my class was cancelled." I used to love that, too...but now I just figure my students' days are ruined when they don't get to see me. Ha.

The past few days I have gone to work and probably shouldn't have been there. It's hard teaching a class when you can't speak loudly...and any kind of laughter makes you go into a coughing fit. I have also enjoyed having my voice crack like I was going through puberty. Finally! I'm a man!

***

We are watching someone else's pet for the first time in awhile. This time...it isn't a dog. It's a cat. And Maggie has been all over her...begging the cat to play.

Unfortunately, this cat HATES Maggie. The innocent little kitty has smacked Maggie in the face about 10 times the past hour...luckily she is declawed, or Maggie wouldn't have eyes anymore.

At least I have something to entertain me while I sit here and practice not talking.