The Video Podcast Regarding My Fighting Trilogy

BEHOLD!

And look at how weird I look in the thumbnail.

"Never Give Up" Is Not Always a Wise Adage (Or, My Fights, Round 2)

Actually, there
isshame in losing

If you remember, or even care, I'd mentioned that I'd been in a few major fights (note: "few" = "three"), one of which I'd already blogged about.

That scrum took place in sixth grade, and it contained only one punch, resulting in (my) bloody nose and the fight being halted by the freaked-out guy who landed it.

My next big brawl took place three years later. The changes between sixth grade and ninth grade include a few inches and a number of pounds, but that didn't help me because the guy I was fighting was not a sixth-grader himself, but a larger-than-average tenth grader.

Add to this the fact that I really had no motivation to fight this guy, and what we end up with is one of those Worst Day Of My Life days.

All right, then! Let's get to it!

I'd Definitely Say I Wasn't a LOVER... (Or, My Fights, Round 1)

Me and Ali: two fightin'
peas in a pod.

...so that means I must have been a fighter. If you were to scan my entire school career, from kindergarten to 12th grade, you'd be able to count all my girlfriends on the fingers of one hand even if the hand ignored the explicit warning on most fireworks — LIGHT FUSE. GET AWAY. — and allowed that cherry bomb to expel every digit but the thumb.

LET'S CLARIFY THINGS A BIT
By "girlfriend" I mean someone whom I asked out, and who agreed to go out with me without immediately adding, "April fool!" (I have been asked out before, believe it or not, but those tales are worth recalling in a future post.) There were other girls with whom I'd had a tangible amount of romantic involvement ranging from minimal to I Love You Almost Like A Third Cousin Once Removed, but for this exercise I'm talking about situations where I was able to say, "X is my girlfriend" without appearing delusional or in need of a restraining order.

THERE'S NO PITY PARTY TODAY
And this isn't one of those "poor me what a loveless loser I was in high school" posts. (Not today, anyway.) My point, and I don't have one, is that if you were to tally the number of fistfights I've had during my time in school, well, let's just say my lips touched more boys' fists than girls' lips.

And I write "fistfights" instead of plain ol' "fights" because I don't mean the occasional rough-housing that gets, er, rough. I mean either...