Friday, May 30, 2008

Fish Creek Fight Club

In Union Square, NYC, some people have organized a fight club. It's not really organized, but people show up once in a while at a certain time and beat the fear of terrorism out of each other. There's no real accurate way to pair people up so it's fair, people just seem to select a rival and fight for the hell of it. I saw a few videos of people with actual martial arts skills fighting each other in an intense flury of fists, and I saw lanky emo japanese kids fight each other while smoking a cig.

So here's the plan. I want to start a fight club, except it's going to be in fish creek, and it's going to be during park hours. Here's the rules.

1. You can talk about fight club, because we always want new people. It's not illegal unless someone presses charges, but if we're doing it in a public space we can totally get in shit. Joint responsibility is the way to go. So rule number one is: Talk about fight club, but only to people who will participate.
2. Since this could conceivably turn into a gang war, Only bring one friend per night.
3. I want to discourage a ton of spectators, because that would only get in the way. If you're going to spectate, you pay 2$, which will be used to provide bandages and possibly for some cash we can use on liquor. Spectators pay, fighters don't.
4. No drunk fighting. If you can walk in a straight line and do a somersault without losing your balance, you're too sober enough to fight. Drunk people feel no pain, get emotional, and ruin fights. No drunk idiots. Baked is fine. No shrooms either.
5. It's fun, don't make it a grudge match. No revenge fighting, or fighting in anger. This is fun.
6. Both fighters must agree to the fight, no shame in refusal. Since we cant match people by skill, this will do.

So anyways, being a huge pacifist has made me a pussy, so I think this could actually be a good time. Anyone up for beating the shit out of each other in Fish Creek Park, comment on the post. If no one does it I'll just go down to the park every day and shadow-box until someone fights me.


Calgary Fight Club

In Union Square, NYC, some people have organized a fight club. It's not really organized, but people show up once in a while at a certain time and beat the fear of terrorism out of each other. There's no real accurate way to pair people up so it's fair, people just seem to select a rival and fight for the hell of it. I saw a few videos of people with actual martial arts skills fighting each other in an intense flury of fists, and I saw lanky emo japanese kids fight each other while smoking a cig.

So here's the plan. I want to start a fight club, except it's going to be in fish creek, and it's going to be during park hours. Here's the rules.

  1. You can talk about fight club, because we always want new people. It's not illegal unless someone presses charges, but if we're doing it in a public space we can totally get in shit. Joint responsibility is the way to go. So rule number one is: Talk about fight club, but only to people who will participate.
  2. Since this could conceivably turn into a gang war, Only bring one friend per night.
  3. I want to discourage a ton of spectators, because that would only get in the way. If you're going to spectate, you pay 2$, which will be used to provide bandages and possibly for some cash we can use on liquor. Spectators pay, fighters don't.
  4. No drunk fighting. If you can walk in a straight line and do a somersault without losing your balance, you're too sober enough to fight. Drunk people feel no pain, get emotional, and ruin fights. No drunk idiots.
  5. It's fun, don't make it a grudge match. No revenge fighting, or fighting in anger. This is fun.
  6. Both fighters must agree to the fight, no shame in refusal. Since we cant match people by skill, this will do.
So anyways, being a huge pacifist has made me a pussy, so I think this could actually be a good time. Anyone up for beating the shit out of each other in Fish Creek Park, comment on the post. If no one does it I'll just go down to the park every day and shadow-box until someone fights me.

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

Ghost Story: part 2

In the last moments of the first part of this story, we were about to hop out of the car and face our destiny. The forest was dark, the forest was scary, the trees were also scary. Thus, we exited the tiny vehicle and set off towards the normal looking farm house, apprehensively but still curious. The house was a two story victorian style with one of those wrap around decks and some nice gables on what remained of the second story, but there the similarity to a This Old House project ended. Actually, in retrospect, this could very well be featured on This Old House, because the entire back half of the house was destroyed, and sunk into the basement.

Of course, an exploded house that is rumored to be haunted and turns out to actually exist is quite a shock. This wasn't simply a collapsed house, it was charred and shattered, boards were broken and splintered from what looked like the old kitchen in a clear radius of absolute houseplosion. We stepped closer and closer to the mess, avoiding splinters and thistles, until we could finally see directly into the old house's basement. The boiler was clearly visible through a hole about 10 feet by 8 feet, and it was through this hole that we shone the flashlight first.

Directly onto a pair of eyes.

Several minutes later, after a brisk sprint to the car and a change of pants, we rallied our spirits and several extra pen-lights and cautiously tip-toed back to the scene. The aforementioned eyes were no longer there on second glance, but this only added to the mystery. Was the creature watching us from farther in? Was it waiting behind us? Was it about to steal Melissa's car? We had to find out. Slowly but surely we climbed into the gap, down into the icy basement, full of lichen and windblown pine needles. The basement was quite a bit bigger than it appeared, and in its day the house itself must have been a fine place. Now it was a forest of fallen beams and pipes, with danger around every corner.

Shoulder to shoulder we crept further into the crypt, until we came up against the wall the boiler was resting against. With one final triumphant sweep of the flashlight, our exploration complete, we were greeted by the same dull glow of eyes. Except instead of the pair that surprised us the first time, our beams were met by 10; no, 20 eyes, all focused dully at our frightened teenage bundle of scaredy cat-ness. With trembling hands we shone the lights further on and were greeted with the biggest shock of our lives:

Cows. Over a dozen. They must have wandered into the basement. Case closed.