I Should Have Had a V-8 (Gym Disaster #2)

Last week, I spun you a tale of penile deformity caused by the pursuit of bodily perfection.

Girls sympathized.

Guys grabbed their junk.

Transvestites were confused on how to feel.

(don't ask me how I know this)

This week, you get to hear what happened to me.

Story #2: The Drunken Head Divot

Drinking + Weights = festering head wound

Trust me.

Here we go...

Back when I was in college, I had decided one night to go to a party with my friend Chris.

When I say I "decided," I mean the decision went like this:

Chris: "Rod, want to go to a par.."

Me: "YES!"

(he looks up to finish his sentence, and finds me sitting in my warmed up car yelling, "HURRY THE F*CK UP!")

Man..I was a drunk.

...which explains my "Insert Penis Here" tattoo (complete with downward pointing arrow) on my lower back.

When you're passed out, your friends can be real assholes.


Anyway...

The kid having the party was a pretty competitive weightlifter.

His party happened to be held in the basement of his house, where all of his weight equipment was.

Now…guys, when they get drunk, tend to get competitive.

As such, a bunch of guys in the basement (including myself) decided to wander their obliterated asses over to the curl bar.


A group of girls followed to watch this display of testosterone and bravado...

(most likely to see which stupid prick would do the dumbest thing first)

I watched as guys lined up and grabbed this curl bar (that had a decent amount of weight on it), and start doing reps.

Cool.

My Drunken Brain: "I could probably do a bunch with that weight...impress the ladies."

Then another guy did a few.

Drunken Brain: "I could do more than that."

...another guy...

Drunken Brain: "I could go for some Doritos."

(I was starting to get the munchies here)

I kept watching…

...my turn was coming up.

Drunken Brain: "I like Knight Rider. I have to pee."


Then...it was MY turn.

Drunken Brain: "LOOK OUT, LADIES!!"

I stepped up.

I grabbed the curl bar...

...and (still thinking of Knight Rider and Doritos) started curling the weight.

This is cake.

Drunken Brain: "Mmm...cake."

CONCENTRATE!

No problem.

...at first.


Then...

...something wasn't right.

Drunken Brain: "...wha..huh…?"

My Spidey-Sense tingling, I looked down…

...trying to figure out why the left side of the bar felt heavier than the other.

Oh.

One side wasn’t heavier than the other…

..it was that there was no collar…

...no crimp….

…not a goddamn f*cking thing on the left side actually responsible for keeping the weights on the bar.


...as such...without the collar...

...the plates had started to migrate their way OFF of the left side bar…

I stood there…holding the bar in front of me...

...watching helplessly as the plates on the left side of the bar began their migration towards the end...

As the weights neared the end of the bar, a seesaw effect began to take place…


…the left side of the bar began to go lower as the weights reached the end…

...and...

...one by one...

...slide right the f*ck off.

*plop*

Uh-oh.

..off went a plate onto the floor…

...then another one...

*plop*

Now..a heavier plate made it’s way to the end…

The left side of the bar dipped lower…

...the right side, still fully populated with plates, went higher…


I began compensating to try to keep the bar even...

...pulling with all of my midget-might with my left arm to try to keep the bar level...

It wasn't working.

*plop*

Frozen in place, still drunk and confused, I watched the last plate reach the end of the bar…

...and drop...

...slow motion...

...to the ground...

*plop*

(the following five lines happened in the span of 1/10th of a second):

At this point, ALL of the weight was now on the right side of the bar…

About forty pounds on the right of me…

Not a single plate on the left.

The left end of the bar – now devoid of weight PLUS the force of my left arm still trying to lift it – swung violently upwards…

…towards my confused, drunken face...

...which had been watching this whole episode unfold…



…the bar struck me dead center -

*THUNK*

- in the middle of my forehead.

I dropped the bar...stumbled back...

...and dropped to the floor.

LOOK, MOMMY!! I SEE PIXIES!!!



Still hammered, I think I managed a "F*CK!!"

Ouch.

So...sauve…

…SO COOL.

Rodney, you're a stupid f*cksh*t.

The guys stood there and laughed.

CHRIST...I would have laughed. What a f*cking idiot.


Here's the cool part...

The girls watching were, like, “OH MY GOD…ARE YOU OKAY?!”

That's right...

...score one for the midgetman.

Because the ladies dig the weightlifters.

Even the dumb, drunk ones.

Like me.

But if you’re keeping score at home...

I was the one who did the first dumb thing.

Sometimes that happens.

More often than not.http://midgetmanofsteel.blogspot.com