Get 2 Choppin

This is a test. I repeat a test post. I am writing this post to see if any of the legends actually still read the g2c website or are in fact soooooo busy in their choppiness that they fail to find the time for the re-examination of essentially their own lives. As the great philosopher Socrates once said, “The unexamined life is not worth living just as a cold Plate o’ food for thought is not worth savoring”.  

Here it goes:

Wham is a jerk, a big, old jerk who should be named Dirk the jerk. He’s a jerkity jerk, and a jerk-a-lurk. He gets perks because he’s a jerk. He wears jerkenstocks and eats beef jerky. He’s not a Turk, he‘s a jerk. He jerks off to Steve Martin’s film, “The Jerk”. He’ll jerk you around and jerk you to the ground because he is a jerk.

Johnny Blues hasn’t paid his dues. He sleeps in and repeatedly hits the snooze. He doesn’t care if we win or lose. He sits on the pews and takes his cues, dotting his I’s and crossing his T’s while down on his knees. He comes and he goes, but as for when, nobody knows. What we do know is that he likes his ho’s with ten fingers and ten plump toes.

K.C. the Sunshine Man never wants to play “kick the can”. He’d rather cuddle up with his girlfriend and read Amy Tan. If there was a Facebook page for get2choppin I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be a fan. I guess he’s out of the frying pan and into the fire like his buddy Dan.

Sgt. Shanie B. oh where, oh where, is this G? I joke. I jest. He’s one of America’s best, all wrapped up in his Kevlar vest. You may think he passed the test when he was on guard duty out west but he’s found himself in a hornet’s nest. I may seem like a pest but I’ll never rest until he has the same g2c zeal and zest.

The call has been made; the question is will anyone pick up. I hope I’m not forgetting anyone but if I did I suggest you better watch your back to the future again if you know what I mean.

This past Thursday the Schwinn Twins were up to their crazy shenanigans again. This time Nutso Rodriguez and his pal Crazy Pete with the Fast Feet set out on a tandem bike ride from C-town to St. Clair Shores. This trip, close to twenty miles long, took the two through the urban jungle of suburban Detroit.

With Crazy Pete at the helm, the two barrelled down the sidewalk like men possessed (and blessed with amazingly good looks). Crazy Pete shot the gap across rush hour traffic with little to no regard for Nutso Rodriguez’s safety all in the name of being thirsty for some adult beverages. Luckily Nutso Rodriguez was in charge of the horn and was able to warn all the pedestrians and single cycling suckers with a three toots warning and a “two is better than one suckers” shout from the cheap seats on the classic 1973 yellow 5 speed Schwinn Tandem bike.

The dynamic duo arrived safe (minus the one pair of sore buttocks belonging to Crazy Pete) and sound and ready to pound at the house of Old Greg, who was blown away by the dedication and discipline of Crazy Pete and Nutso to make it that far in under two hours for the sake of the drinking at stake.

As the night progressed and the tandem two worked to rehydrate themselves, they decided to help redecorate Old Greg’s palatial estate and of course they paired up on this task and kept it cost effective in the process. The excess patio furniture from the neighboring Patty O’ Brien’s was being offered at a huge discount and of course we snatched it right up.  Two chairs for the the price of none.

This of course was a one way trip. Luckily fellow legend, Sgt. Shanie B. came to the aid of injured cyclist Crazy Pete and picked us up the next morning. I highly recommend the tandem bike, it is a thousand times better than any ropes course or closing your eyes and falling back into someone’s arms for building trust. Hell, after that ride I feel I could trust Crazy Pete sleeping naked next to my wife.

It was a very interesting and exciting weekend in Choppinville. Like a pastry chef, let me fill you in on the going ons of the lovable legends and their charismatic cohorts. It started with an early morning road trip to Columbus, Ohio which maybe the most boring state to drive through by the way; it is flatter than a steam rolled pancake breakfast served on the chest of Kiera Knightly. I, John E. Bravo, made this excursion because it was the Midwest Regional Qualifier for the Crossfit Games. As a staff volunteer, I was an integral part in maintaining the smooth flow of the competition. I could easily be heard yelling, “Medics on the right, Port-a-Potties on the Left, one’s got the EMS and the other’s for Poop and PMS, cause you guys are bitches”.

At this juncture, I must profess my love for the ladies of Crossfit (if you don’t know what Crossfit is you don’t know what living is; if Crossfit was a band it would be Blood, Sweat, and Tears, If Crossfit was a wrestler it would be the Ultimate Warrior, If Crossfit was a mental disorder it would be clinically insane marked by fits of aggression, if Crossfit was a drug it would be PCP laced cigarette because it is highly addictive, makes you strong as f@#k and bitches be smokin’). The two photos (one above and one below) are two examples of some certified badass bitches that ain’t got no glitches in their hardware if you know what I mean. I would pull a Hans Solo and R2D2 all over their rock hard bodies.

After the Crossfit Regional Qualifier it was back to the Great Lakes state for the Sears is Changing Gears Retirement Extravangza. It was an awesome party except for the fucking bonfire smoke that followed John E. Bravo around like a stalker ex-girl whose smell you just can’t get out of your clothes coincidentally just like a bonfire. The only casuality of the night was Sgt. Shanie B who after getting in my face pretending to be an offensive lineman got knocked out when I used the only weapon I had at my disposal, K.C. the Sunshine Man, to diffuse his hostile intentions. The result was an inadvertent headbutt and a slighly unconscious Shanie B. for about five minutes. No Harm, No Foul though.

Sorry there was one other casuality, Chef Sears got bit up like a fat hooker at a vampire convention. As a Chef he should have known better, I mean you don’t want your girlfirend to bite the noodle you want her to slurp the noodle if you really want her to savor the experience. I guess he will have to chew on that one.

The next day got even better. The Big Lupski pulled off the coup of the century and scored us six tickets to the first game of the Western Conference Finals between the Detroit Red Wings and The Chicago BlackenedHawks or the Chi Town Ice Clowns or the Windy City Wannabees whatever you want to call those pansy ass puck fucks.

After weaving our way out of the parking structure and the ensuing traffic congestion and burning some rubber in my pimped out tinted up Saturn Ion, The fellows and I rocked out to You Were Meant For Me, Jewel herself would have been impressed and we followed that up with some Gangsta Rap to get our masculinity back in check as we sped down I-75 waving our red and white pompons out the window as a nod to the Hockey gods. A great all around weekend. Enough said.

It was definitely was one of those weekends that you could really sink your teeth into cause it was thick like a half pound burger.

There is a bit of an uproar in one of the regional precincts of get2choppin.com. My second cousin twice removed, Ned Mulholler, who hails from West Virginia and is an avid follower of the g2c website recently emailed with a bit of a conundrum. A little back ground about Ned before I approach his email. In the family circle, he is known as Naïve Ned “not quite the scholar” Mulholler. This is for a reason. He once drove all the way to Detroit because he heard that for 200 dollars you could get a tranny that could handle anything. Despite all of that he still landed himself a solid job as a custodial engineer at a high school in his hometown of Westville, West Virginia. He is a proud staff member of the West Virginia Westville High Wild Varmints.

This was his concern though as he stated in the following email:

Dear Cousin,

I hope all is well. Sorry to bother you but I have a problem and you are the smartest person I know so I thought you could help me. It was recently prom season down here and as I’m constantly in the hallways working I tend to overhear students’ conversations because well um they kinda ignore me. I’m a bit worried and am not sure if I should bring this to the attention of my supervisor but apparently a lot of the female students lost their V card at prom. The male students that were talking about it kinda were laughing it off, but this is serious business, John E. I don’t know if these girls or guys realize the consequences.

The V card is important; it is their identity. I mean these girls won’t be able to get into any sporting events without it, they won’t be able to eat at lunch with out the scan card portion, and they won’t be able to use it to get their V card discount at local stores (10 percent off at the Dairy Hut is ten percent if you know what I mean). A lot of responsibility comes with carrying the Varmint card but these students are taking it very lightly. Is it my place to say something to the administration about the rampant loss of V-cards at prom or should I just leave things be? I mean I still have my V Card from the days I roamed the clean (well they are now John E.) halls of Westville High. I am Wild Varmint through and through, John E, and it hurts me to see these young whippersnappers throwing away something that means so much. It’s weird too, I cleaned the hell out of that auditorium where they held the prom and I didn’t see one lost V-card lying around. Anyway I hope Mom E. Bravo and Dad E. Bravo are doing well and send them my best wishes. Thanks for your help, cousin.

Sincerely, Ned Mulholler

Now I’m not quite sure how to respond to this. I may be mistaken but I think the V-card those students were talking about may not refer to their student identification badge or does it? The advice I gave Naïve Ned was simple, “Take your hydraulic floor cleaner and steer clear of that situation, cousin, cause that is one mess you can’t clean up.”