You’re Not Going To Like This One

OK. Question: On the volume of domestic violence, where do I stand? Answer: Right in front of the bitch, unless I’m trying to hit her in the back of the head or something. I’ll admit that wasn’t funny, but only if you’ll admit that it was fucking hilarious. I made it up myself, by the way. You see folks, as an educated individual and family man to boot, I’ve come to appreciate the sway that a good skull grabbing or solid, yet restrained hammer punch can hold over household diplomacy. Now let me make this clear: I’ve seen the guys on COPS who give women black eyes, bloody lips, and whatnot, and I am in no way condoning this type of asinine behavior. After all, they’re women, for Christ’s sake, and they deserve the same soft-handed discipline that you would reserve for a child or household pet. I know what you’re thinking... Now why would he say such a thing? Because he’s pissed, ladies and gentlemen, and somebody has to suffer. Better it be someone I love than some random, innocent stranger out in public. Perhaps none of this should be written, but let’s go ahead and examine things a bit further.

We’ll start with the skull grab. Nothing says, “I need your total, undivided attention” better than a firm skull grabbing. When administering the skull grab, always remember to think through the skin and meat, and act as though you’re grabbing the actual skull itself. Once the skull is firmly in your grasp, make solid, unblinking eye contact while screaming whatever nonsensical gibberish you feel is worth completely losing your composure over. The skull grab is best accentuated with a parting toss. Upon disengaging, simply pretend that the skull is an unattached, inanimate object, such as a tetherball or an old tire, and toss it towards a far corner of the room. When applied successfully, you can rest assured that skull grabbing calls for hesitant, if any repetition of the offending action.

Now, on to the hammer punch. By avoiding both the destructive power that you would put behind a traditional punch thrown at a man, and the degradation that is included with an open hand face slap, a hammer punch to the side or top of the head is an excellent way to put things back into perspective. Simply make a fist and, leading with the pinky side of your hand, rap on the offender’s noggin as though you were knocking on a door or pounding on a counter. Although an effective technique, the hammer punch should be used sparingly, and only to thwart a physical attack that has been initiated against you. All right, enough kidding around. Allow me to offer you a glimpse into my life. A couple of weeks ago, the common law wife and the mistress, both of whom have been mentioned in a previous article and neither of whom are appreciative of their respective titles, finally got the chance to meet each other in person. The meeting didn’t go as smoothly as one might imagine, mostly due to a lack of planning on my part. Demonstrating the bad judgment and absence of morality that has come to define my character, I allowed myself to be caught in the precarious position of having the girlfriend over at the house when my co-occupant came home for her lunch break. Now when I say having the girlfriend over at the house, I mean having the girlfriend, over at the house.

As you can imagine, this led to a classic scuffle followed by a hasty departure, then closed with what had to have been the worst nervous breakdown I’ve ever seen in my life. At the height of the conflict, I found myself being threatened by a steak knife in one hand, and a claw hammer in the other. Figuring I had done enough damage for the day, I chose to use calm words in lieu of the hammer punch to resolve this conflict.

Being assaulted domestically with a claw hammer, by the way, isn’t a new experience for me. Several years back, I was attacked with a triple beam scale and a claw hammer in a dispute over money. I opted for the hip toss, a very effective means of dispersing a weaker, yet armed opponent, to diffuse that situation. Things went awry on the landing unfortunately, and someone’s ankle has never quite been the same. I have since retired the hip toss from my arsenal, and suggest my readers do the same.)

Anyway, the latest fracas subsided eventually, and my co-combatant moved on to a series of psychological attacks. Her first order of business was, like any good parent, to march up to our kids’ elementary school and tell them exactly what had happened. Any doubts of where they stood on the volume were erased with an ensuing call to my cell phone. It was my daughter Jessica, age eight. “Are you there dad? Good, because you’re scum. I fucking hate you, you piece of shit.” Click. I didn’t even get a word in edgewise. It’s important to mention that Jess usually doesn’t use such harsh, adult language; only when thrust into harsh, adult situations. (My son Shay, by the way, seems to have inherited his father’s sense of humor. He did me a favor and let me off with just a couple of rounds of “Chad and (so and so) sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g....”)

After involving our kids, homegirl takes the next logical step and promptly alerts my parents and my sister about the situation. Then come the threats of making official statements, launching investigations, turning states evidence, sending everyone I’ve ever known in my life to jail, etc. During all this time, I’ve got our editor, Isaac Friese calling me on the cell phone, Chad man, we really need your article, the deadline was Saturday, ok?? We have these rules for a reason. You’re single handedly ruining this magazine. Hey Isaac, welcome to my world grandma.

Anyway, a couple of days later, wifey tells me that all is forgiven, and she’s going down to Padre for the weekend with her boyfriend to “have some time to relax.” I guess we pretty much made up at that point...I pushed her head through the wall, then came on her
titties.

Now, the boyfriend is a tricky situation. Were he just some random fucker who I didn’t know, or vice versa, I would be happy to take the “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander” stance on the whole volume. This, however, is not the case. This guy knows exactly who I am and knows my domestic situation. Thus, I have to see his involvement as a direct challenge to my authority. Of course, this will not stand. I have no misconceptions about fighting, and never just assume I’m going to kick someone’s ass... just that I’m going to try to. I also try to be as gentlemanly as possible when these situations arise.

Several months ago, I run into this guy while he is at work. (If I told you this guy works for South By Southwest, you’d either think I was completely full of shit, or you would finally realize that I am, indeed, living a storybook life.) I went up to him and told him look, I’m not going to start any shit with you while you’re working, and I’m not going to come looking for you, but I do owe you an ass
kicking.

I feel like those are completely fair terms that any man could abide by. In light of this, coming over to my house to drop off homegirl after a weekend out of town should obviously be an invitation for trouble. (I should use the phrase “coming over to my house” lightly. Sneaking around the side of my house like a scared little kid would be more appropriate.) Sir Lancelot went on to further prove his valor by locking himself in a fucking minivan and tearing ass off with me in hot pursuit, beating on his windows. Hey buddy, if you can’t fight for the pussy, then stay the fuck off it. We got us a family over here.

In what was by far the funniest part of this incident, as my quarry drove away, I saw a rock embedded in the dirt on the side of the road. I grabbed for, and proceeded to unearth it. By the time I got it unstuck, it turns out to be a small boulder, way to big to throw the required distance. Fueled by rage, I gave it a heave anyway and, to my surprise, it rang true. The fucker bounced off the rubber part of the dude’s back tire..... God, that pissed me off.

Ok football fans, did you go to the last two home games? I must admit, I didn’t expect The Longhorns to kick that much shit out of Tulane. I know they’re Conference USA, but The Green Wave seemed to have a better team this year, especially on offense. Thanks again for the ticket Larry. As far as the Kansas State game goes, it was very exciting and I’m glad UT won, but I wasn’t very impressed with either team’s performance. UT’s defense looked good, but there is still an obvious problem on offense and the special teams were flat out atrocious, especially on punt return. Nathan Vasher looked like he thought the football was a fucking sickle cell. I realize that he has been outstanding in the past on returns and is always good on defense (had a pick in the end zone even), but what the fuck was the problem Saturday? On top of that, with Selvin Young being hurt, UT’s kickoff return team is now whiter than a catfish’s belly. This shit won’t fly next weekend in Dallas at Texas/OU. I don’t have the time or emotional energy right now to dwell on the Red River Shootout.

I also went and saw Leander beat Westwood last week, in what probably will be the defining game in that particular district. Kearn (sp?), the Leander running back, was held to under 100 yards, but caused at least two turnovers while pulling double duty on defense. I thought Westwood would win, after finally getting over the hump and defeating a struggling Westlake Chaps squad after a couple of close games in the past. Look for me next week out in Burnet, where I hope to see Jordan Shipley break the all-time State records for receiving yardage and receiving touchdowns. In closing, I’d like to mention that, although I may have ribbed him earlier, Isaac Friese is a very hard, passionate worker (lover) and