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November 11, 2007

Sunday is my Day to Relax

Yes, it's Sunday here in the wilds of Connecticut, my day to relax. What does a guy like me do to relax? For starters, gymkata. This is the combination of martial arts and gymnastics best known from the 1985 movie, "Gymkata." On Sundays, I like to wake a little before dawn and spend several hours in my basement gymkata studio sparring with various partners I import from the former Eastern Bloc.

Around nine, I strap on twenty pound ankle weights and do a little roadwork. Again, this is my day to relax, so I'm not going full throttle. I might run anywhere from eight to ten miles, depending on how I'm feeling. To keep me company, I crank up the iPod (currently listening to Dr. Gerald Cizadlo's "Lecture on Advanced Physiology").

After running, it's breakfast time! Yummy! Steel cut oatmeal, six raw eggs, flaxseed oil and (for a Sunday treat) seven packages of bacon.

By now the kids have been up a while and they want to play. So that's what we do! We head back outside and I have the kids stack rocks into a huge pile, then disassemble the pile and carry the rocks a hundred yards to form an identical pile. I watch them do this three or four times, or until they are pooped! Kids love to be outdoors, and this is a great way to get them out of the house in a structured way.

Lunch can't come soon enough. After watching the kids work, I'm starving. Twenty three hot dogs, a bag of marshmallows, more flaxseed oil, a whole turkey, and a pie (apple or blueberry). The kids split a corndog.

That lunch has made me sleepy, but I don't want to waste the day sleeping, so instead I decide to do a little exercise. Because I'm competing in next year's "Strongest Man" competition, I jolt my system awake by carrying slot machines up a hill for an hour or two. These are retired Atlantic City slot machines, and to make it a challenge, I have my wife fill the machines with nickels. After all, what fun is an empty slot machine? LOL!

Sunday wouldn't be Sunday without some chores around the house, of course. The wife has me chop down a tree and cut it up into about a half cord of wood. I'll let it season and next year, it'll be ready for the fireplace. She also wants me to look at the window treatments in the dining room. To my eye, they're a little frayed, so I take out a bolt of chenille and get to work. In about an hour, I've got a fully lined set of drapes ready for hanging. Then I recycle all the glass and plastic. I'm going to make sneakers for the Africans with the materials.

By now the sun has set, and I'm ready to unwind. I do this with a glass of merlot and three lines of pure Afghan heroine. People bemoan the Afghan opium trade, but I have to say, even though I hate the Taliban, they make some good shit.

Of course the H makes me nod off, so I'm barely able to choke down dinner, which consists of a gallon of fresh apple cider and a pig.

The kids are ready for bed, so we trundle them upstairs, forgoing the usual bath. Instead we just hose them off and zip them into sleeping bags, which we will place outside once they're asleep. The cold air will toughen them up, and they'll be forced to rely on the navigational skills I've been teaching them to find their way home, as when I say we will "place them outside," I definitely do NOT mean we will place them outside anywhere near our house.

Once this task is accomplished, my wife and I cuddle for a while, and then it's lights out. It's been a relaxing day, but Monday is coming and if I want to spend the day playing Boggle on the internet, I've got to get some sleep.


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A whole pig? Fantastic!

I see you are well aware of the benefits of flax seed oil. And Heroin. And fabulously warped parenting.

Funny, funny, funny. 3 suhnaps.


too much flaxseed oil can cause loose stools. but really, how much is "too much"?


Dr. C's lecture is a good one, but I prefer Fergie while jogging. I like to play the name game with "Fergi-licious". Try it, it's addicting!


ps your nude centerfold looks like when Marge painted a naked portrait of Mr. Burns...


Michael Schwartzenegger?


Sundays just aren't the same without hard drugs.


I wish I had had a parent like you when I was growing up...

Show this to Tucker Max. THEN see if he wants to fight you, you hard ass son of a bitch.:]

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