Some Much For that Idea
There are times in our lives when we have to step back and take a good hard look at ourselves in the mirror and accept that this just wasn't meant to be. It is indeed a sobering experience for those of us who believe we are invincible, that there is no mountain to steep, no jump to far, no obstacle that cannot be overcome, and no amount of booze that can make us chuck.
Today I, Preston Douglas Hatfield come before you in humble fashion, hat in hand, to say that i am not invincible, nor can i fly or speak with the fish, nor am i fit to have a lucrative career as a lumberjack.
I was stacking wood today and the last of the stuff I had to stack was sectioned tree branches which were thick hunks of lumber. For the first time on record I was going to try my hand and splitting wood, no problem, i thought. My dad does it like a pro, in fact, if you gave him a good piece of wood and an ax, he could carve you an entire chess set. It would stand to reason that i got his wood-splitting genes. Well...about that.
It turns out that chopping wood is a lot like slicing bread, and the only thing one requires to do that is command of the most basic of geometric principles: cut in a straight line. Unfortuntely for me, geometry is my Achilles Heel as i failed it in high school (both semesters) and had to do it again in summer school. Also unfortuately for me, it was goemetric theory, and not geometric practice, so when it comes to applying the laws of geometry, i am about as capable as a retard in a game of water polo. Anyone who has ever seen me try to cut bread straight-up-and-down knows that it is a spectical about as sad as watching a three legged dog try and chase the mail man. You look at the loaf after I've had at it, rather than a rectangle it looks like a parrallelogram, with the cut going dramatically inward as you follow it down, or else it zigzags in the center like i had a seizure in the middle of cutting.
Bear with me, I'm going to finish the story about the wood in a second but i have to add at this point that I am also terrible with depth perception and parking cars- another thing my dad absolutely kicks ass at. My dad takes our Suburban and backs it into our driveway at about 25 mph and lines up perfectly about two inches away from a retaining wall. I on the other hand, when i come home from work and park on the street (with no other cars around mind you) end up parking about 4 feet from the curb because i can't tell how far away from it I am. And yes, smart ass, i do use the mirrors and i just can't tell, and i figure its better to park on the street than on the curb.
Now, the wood. I set into this project and my dad gives me the basic rundown of how it's to be done- over the shoulder swing, bend the knees, follow through and get both cheeks behind it. I take about three swings and I'm doing ok, although my dad would have split the log down its geometric center in one shot while it took me three to shave off the very edge of the bark. Grr.
It would go down hill from the time i completed the first log. Lets start with the fact that even though ive got a little bulge in my biceps, I'm not strong at all cause when i do workout stuff, im almost all cardio and abs. To effectively split wood you need to hit it hard enough that the impact cracks the log all the way down, well i couldn't quite do that with every swing. In fact i think i averaged around...5 or 6 swings per log? So next, back to the bread cutting; if i could have actually HIT the log with every swing i might not have tired myself out so quickly, but as it was i think i hit the center of these logs maybe 3 times (and there were about 5 logs which were split two or three times each). So when i actually did manage to split the logs i was shaving these splinters. Oh well, who doesn't like kinling?
Then there was the fact that about seven or eight times i swung and hit the log- with the ax handle. It was a brand new handle when i took it up today and by the time i was done it looked like a german shepard had been chewing on it for about an hour. A side note about this- one time i split a log was when i hit the wood with the handle. yeah, i felt like a badass for that.
Then there was the big boy, the ginormous log that was about the size of a rim on an SUV. Embarrassing as it is i took a swing at this and COMPLETELY FUCKING MISSED. My dad laughed, i shook my head in disgrace. I got my revenge on him though and i swear this was out of a loony toons cartoon. I take a swing at this log (after splitting it a few times) and clip it from the side- the log goes flying off the chop block and smacks my dad (who was standing a good 6 feet away) in the leg. I don't know how that happened, but we both laughed about that.
I got the job done- eventually- and what i learned from the whole ordeal was this: I'm not a lumberjack, but i am ok. As i showered all the sweat off me afterwards i was feeling immasculated. Lumberjacking is a stereotypically manly thing to do and the fact that i suck at it basically means that i have a small cock, no way around it.
So, just call me baby dick. I'm feeling very small right now....but i had to share this experience with all of you, cause it was very silly. I made many manly grunts as i was chopping though. So i was sorta manly, and when my dad asked if i was tired i vehemently said i was not! Real men don't get tired. Lord knows Chuck Norris doesn't.
Today I, Preston Douglas Hatfield come before you in humble fashion, hat in hand, to say that i am not invincible, nor can i fly or speak with the fish, nor am i fit to have a lucrative career as a lumberjack.
I was stacking wood today and the last of the stuff I had to stack was sectioned tree branches which were thick hunks of lumber. For the first time on record I was going to try my hand and splitting wood, no problem, i thought. My dad does it like a pro, in fact, if you gave him a good piece of wood and an ax, he could carve you an entire chess set. It would stand to reason that i got his wood-splitting genes. Well...about that.
It turns out that chopping wood is a lot like slicing bread, and the only thing one requires to do that is command of the most basic of geometric principles: cut in a straight line. Unfortuntely for me, geometry is my Achilles Heel as i failed it in high school (both semesters) and had to do it again in summer school. Also unfortuately for me, it was goemetric theory, and not geometric practice, so when it comes to applying the laws of geometry, i am about as capable as a retard in a game of water polo. Anyone who has ever seen me try to cut bread straight-up-and-down knows that it is a spectical about as sad as watching a three legged dog try and chase the mail man. You look at the loaf after I've had at it, rather than a rectangle it looks like a parrallelogram, with the cut going dramatically inward as you follow it down, or else it zigzags in the center like i had a seizure in the middle of cutting.
Bear with me, I'm going to finish the story about the wood in a second but i have to add at this point that I am also terrible with depth perception and parking cars- another thing my dad absolutely kicks ass at. My dad takes our Suburban and backs it into our driveway at about 25 mph and lines up perfectly about two inches away from a retaining wall. I on the other hand, when i come home from work and park on the street (with no other cars around mind you) end up parking about 4 feet from the curb because i can't tell how far away from it I am. And yes, smart ass, i do use the mirrors and i just can't tell, and i figure its better to park on the street than on the curb.
Now, the wood. I set into this project and my dad gives me the basic rundown of how it's to be done- over the shoulder swing, bend the knees, follow through and get both cheeks behind it. I take about three swings and I'm doing ok, although my dad would have split the log down its geometric center in one shot while it took me three to shave off the very edge of the bark. Grr.
It would go down hill from the time i completed the first log. Lets start with the fact that even though ive got a little bulge in my biceps, I'm not strong at all cause when i do workout stuff, im almost all cardio and abs. To effectively split wood you need to hit it hard enough that the impact cracks the log all the way down, well i couldn't quite do that with every swing. In fact i think i averaged around...5 or 6 swings per log? So next, back to the bread cutting; if i could have actually HIT the log with every swing i might not have tired myself out so quickly, but as it was i think i hit the center of these logs maybe 3 times (and there were about 5 logs which were split two or three times each). So when i actually did manage to split the logs i was shaving these splinters. Oh well, who doesn't like kinling?
Then there was the fact that about seven or eight times i swung and hit the log- with the ax handle. It was a brand new handle when i took it up today and by the time i was done it looked like a german shepard had been chewing on it for about an hour. A side note about this- one time i split a log was when i hit the wood with the handle. yeah, i felt like a badass for that.
Then there was the big boy, the ginormous log that was about the size of a rim on an SUV. Embarrassing as it is i took a swing at this and COMPLETELY FUCKING MISSED. My dad laughed, i shook my head in disgrace. I got my revenge on him though and i swear this was out of a loony toons cartoon. I take a swing at this log (after splitting it a few times) and clip it from the side- the log goes flying off the chop block and smacks my dad (who was standing a good 6 feet away) in the leg. I don't know how that happened, but we both laughed about that.
I got the job done- eventually- and what i learned from the whole ordeal was this: I'm not a lumberjack, but i am ok. As i showered all the sweat off me afterwards i was feeling immasculated. Lumberjacking is a stereotypically manly thing to do and the fact that i suck at it basically means that i have a small cock, no way around it.
So, just call me baby dick. I'm feeling very small right now....but i had to share this experience with all of you, cause it was very silly. I made many manly grunts as i was chopping though. So i was sorta manly, and when my dad asked if i was tired i vehemently said i was not! Real men don't get tired. Lord knows Chuck Norris doesn't.