My Top Seven Most Physically Painful Experiences, Ever
It's December. The year is coming to a close, and it's so hot in LA that I've been using the air-conditioner in my car all week. I'm perfectly content to sit out the rest of the year drinking beer, playing insane amounts of Halo 2, and not asking any women on dates, but no. Mike G insists that I write one more Feature just because Randy did. Goddammit.
I couldn't think of anything genuinely interesting to write about (like, say, animal battles) so I'm just going to tell you all about the 7 worst physical pains I have ever experienced.
Here they are:
7.) Burning my right forearm on the exhaust pipe of my Jeep
In case you didn't know it, if you're doing your own oil change, it's good to do it after you've run your car for a bit so that the crap in the oil loosens up and your gears and engine get a wash. However, if you don't allow for the proper cool-down time, then you're dealing with a dangerously hot engine and about 4 quarts of searing hot oil.
In this particular case, I didn't allow for the proper cool-down time. I was lying underneath my Jeep, fiddling with the drain plug, and I heard a sizzling sound and started smelling burnt flesh. I had unknowingly pressed my right forearm into the exhaust pipe. I didn't actually feel the pain till about a second or two later, and then it all moved in at once and started paying rent.
In case you've never experienced it, the smell of burnt human flesh is very distinct. The closest thing I can compare it to is a combination of pork and iron.
6.) Slamming my shin in to a brick wall when I was 11
When I was 11 years old, there was a 3 foot high brick wall that I would regularly jump as a shortcut to my house. One day I slipped and, instead of clearing the wall, I ended up slamming my right shin into the edge of it at a full sprint.
I clutched my shin, curled into a ball, and made mewling noises for about 5-10 minutes. It hurt so bad that for those 5-10 minutes I simply wanted to shit my pants and die. I still have a small divot in my shin from that experience.
5.) Having my left testicle nearly annihilated by a lacrosse ball
My high school didn't have a football team. We had a lacrosse team. That fact alone should inform you as to what kind of rich, dumb clusterfucks I had to tolerate for 4 years. This, my friends, is why I drink so much and use the Lord's name in vain.
Anyhow, so yeah, I played lacrosse. One day, I forgot to wear a cup to practice, and during a simple game of catch, I missed a pass and the hard rubber lacrosse ball nailed me square on the left nut. It hurt so much that not only did I want to shit my pants and die - it made me want to puke, shit my pants, die, then come back to life so that I could puke some more.
My right nut was completely untouched. My left nut swelled to the size of a tennis ball. If I ever manage to con some girl into marrying me and having kids, I think that progenic responsibility is gonna fall solely on my right nut. God, I could just talk about my testicles all day long.
4.) Getting one of my molars drilled without novocaine
Once, I lost a filling during a time when I didn't have dental insurance so I asked my mom to hook me up with a cheap Korean dentist in the Los Angeles Area. God...that last sentence makes me sound like such a dipshit...Anyhow, no one in the office spoke any English, and I don't speak any Korean, unless it's being yelled at me by an old Korean man that's around my father's age.
So the dental assistants are snapping at me in Korean for some reason I can't discern, and the dentist himself is all ninja-ed out with his facemask and goggles, and I'm nervous enough about being at the dentist as it is. He gives me one of the most painful and ineffective novocaine shots ever. And at the point where he starts firing up his drills and such, I nervously inform him that my mouth isn't numb yet. The Korean dentist grunts something at me, and starts drilling into my molar and my left hand squeezed the goddam armrest into a diamond.
They drilled away the excess filling, refilled my tooth, and sent me on my way. Why do other Korean people hate me so? Oh yeah, that's right. It's because I can't speak the language, and because I'm just generally kinduva dick. Everytime I go to K-town, I tell people I'm Chinese.
3.) Getting body-slammed by former Ultimate Fighting Champion, Vitor Belfort
When I have the time and money, I study Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. It's kinda like wrestling, only you're allowed to break each others' arms. I like it. It's really the only martial art I've ever taken to naturally. Stand up fighting was never my thing. Don't get me wrong. I punch like a ton of bricks, but it's a real slow, ugly ton of bricks that you can see coming a mile away.
I used to study at the Carlson Gracie academy when they were still in Westwood. During my time there I met and trained with full contact fighting champions such as Mario Sperry, Marco Ruas, and my instructor, Vitor Belfort, who was only 18 at the time.
One day, Vitor decides to be funny and picks me up over his head and swings me down towards the ground as if to body-slam me. He pulls me up at the last moment, but I had already stuck my left leg out to break the fall and it ended up getting jerked pretty severely when it hit the ground. That was about 10 years ago and the resulting groin/hip injury has stayed with me to this day.
Okay, so it wasn't the most painful thing ever, but it did hurt, and it's hurt pretty consistently for years. C'mon, I was body slammed by Vitor Belfort, former Ultimate Fighting Champion, which is infinitely more impressive than, say, being cat-scratched by a very petulant Willie Aames, former star of "Charles In Charge".
2.) The hangover after my 26th birthday
Back in Propergander's baby days, we used to throw shows in Randy's parents' backyard. We even built a very small, rickety, unsafe stage back there. We'd throw very shitty, Little Rascals-type shows for our friends, which eventually became so popular that we were packing in audiences of 70 or more.
We provided free alcohol for the audience and, inevitably, some drunk asshole peed all over the bathroom floor and Randy's parents kicked us out. This wasn't necessarily a bad thing cause it made us get our act together and put on our first show in an actual theater.
Anyhow, sometime around my 26th birthday, we decided to throw a small fundraiser type show where we auctioned off random items and sometimes each other, and performed skits and such.
I bought a 12-pack of Red Stripe beer and came up with the idea of having Drew (of Ill Again fame) and me compete in 12 silly contests, which ranged from a simple staring contest, to eating unripe plums off a tree in Randy's backyard, to the infamous "cookie on face" contest. The loser of each contest had to chug a beer.
I'm coordinated. I'm athletic, and I'm not a complete dumbass. I figured I'd at least win half of the contests. Wrong. I lost ten of the twelve. I think I won "cookie on face" and the unripe plum eating contest. Within 1 hour, I had chugged 10 beers. Afterwards, the folks drove me to Westwood Brew Co. and bought me more drinks for my birthday. Many many more drinks.
You know that saying that goes "Beer before liquor, never been sicker?" Well, there's a follow up adage that says, "Ten beers and three unripe plums before a shitload of mixed drinks, neverrrr beeln-...snooorrrgle...[barf]"
I woke up the next morning on Mike G's floor, 26 years old and in so much pain that I wanted to call 911. I think I was drinking again within a week. Alcohol is like Taco Bell. Every once in awhile, it'll burn ya, but you always go back.
1.) The hangover after my 27th birthday
This was like the hangover after my 26th birthday, only worse.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, bastardos. Especially you, Mike G.