I just got my first black eye. How magnificent! In the dull, healthy eye world, conversations begin with some boring observation about the weather. You escape all this with a shiner on your face! Sure, many people will try to be polite and ignore it, but before long their eyes will naturally lock on. That's when I recount my heroic tale to them, starting with that most elegant of introductions: "so one night I was really drunk..." I then go into detail as I describe my plight.
It started out like most great stories, with a girl. When I overheard Kristen telling a friend that she wanted to learn how to punch, I jumped into the discussion. Since she is an upper-middle class white girl from the suburbs, I naturally assumed that it was vital for her to learn to hit. Now, my wrestling and judo experience have virtually nothing to do with punching, but I did watch Dragon Ball Z as a child, so I'm somewhat of an expert. I quickly taught Kristen how to make a fist and throw her arm, and showed her the most disabling contact points: nose, cheek bones, gut, instep and groin. Yet, what good is learning about something if you can't do it? So I had her practice throwing some punches. I blocked them with my left hand while holding a beer with my right hand. After a couple of minutes it was clear she had gotten the hang of it, so I left to request a song from the DJ. ♪Danger! Danger! High voltage! When we touch… ♪ WHAM!! To make a long story short, I got punched by a girl. At least she went for the cheek bone and not the groin.
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