Hmmmm, let’s see…In one corner we have Scylla with his tick-gut, tight shorts, and “chintzy prize.”
In the other corner, we have Airman, with nothing but his youth, ego, and AF uniform.
Did I say “uniform”?
I think you’re the bomb, Scylla. But unless you have a fire helmet somewhere in the back of your closet, don’t even bother getting out of bed. Cause the judge from Ohio has already made up her mind.
What you say? Somebody set us up the bomb?..
Owww, owww owww stop throwing things, I’m leaving now.
While I’d love to take you up on this and smite you like a li’l punk, and verily, you would be smoten, I have plans that involve two mountains, thousands of acres of powder and thousands of feet of vertical.
If you’d like to come out to Squaw Valley and Kirkwood, I’ll gladly take any challenge you care to throw my way: skis or snowboard.
Simetra, we need to talk, man. That G3 is a beautiful weapon. I was |_| this close to picking up an H&K SL8-1 a few weeks ago.
I hate to nitpick you all, but a half marathon is actually 13.1 miles. Trust me, when you’re racing it, that .1 makes a hell of a difference.
:: leers at Scylla ::
Nah, I can’t take the challenge. I’m too busy trying to defeat the clock. In May I’m going to make my 3rd (yes, 3rd) attempt at breaking 2:00 in the half.
Try #1 - 2:00:57
Try #2 - 2:00:27
Dammit!!!
For all your posturing, scylla, it is I, the Geezer, who have the true superiority. I posess the sleek body of a Rush Limbaugh, the fleetness of a sumo wrestler with arthritis, the cunning of a turkey. I am no mere athlete, but the supreme specimen of couch potatohood. In short, I’ll be sitting here being smart while you and your friends are gasping for breath. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! (maniacal laughter) 
Seriously, good luck to all of you who are running. I admire people with the flexibility and stamina to do that. I don’t think I could run to the mailbox without collapsing.
Charybdis (I’m a liar…it’s DesertGeezer)
“Age and guile beats youth and a bad haircut every time.”
- PJ Orourke
Airman:
I’m trying to think of the best way to do this. WIll you be wearing anything distinctive?
If it’s as warm as it is now I’ll be wearing a beige Marine Corps marathon tank top and red and blue Polo shorts. If it’s cooler I’ll be wearing a long-sleeved green marine corps marathon shirt.
Maybe I’ll buy a Winnie the Pooh balloon and carry it around until you find me.
What do you think?
Oh, and if you do manage to beat me I have this Swingline staple and a whole pad of post - it notes as your prize!
Please. A race? Forget about it.
You want to test your manhood, Scylla? Come to the Bakbakan full contact swordsmanship tournament on June 15. I imagine you will be putting your running skills to good use after a few solid cuts from a wooden longsword. 
Sounds interesting. Unfortunately swordswmanship is an impractical art, and then there’s that whole phallic compensatory thing going on.
Doubtless you people may have narrow rubrics at which you excel but for my world domination purposes I only need to be superior along broad general lines.
I need study swordsmanship about as much as plumbing.
No doubt, as both so obviously have that phallic compensatory thing going on. Swords and laying pipe, you heard it here first, folks, Scylla knows nothing about either.
Ah, but what would it serve you to gain the globe itself, if you’re unable to flush your crapper?
Ha! I put a baby in my wife’s body (at least I’m pretty sure it was me.)
Since you didn’t do it yourself, you can’t take full credit.
The way I figure it from my experience is that I had to go through 2 minutes of arduous sex in order to do my share.
My wife had to suffer morning sickness, backache, cramps, give up tennis, carry around a beachball for nine months on her achey breaky feet, get cut open like a watermelon, and let this crying smush-faced baby nurse for a year while attending to its every need 24/7.
I figure it as a 50/50 split. I did half she did half.
So all you get is half credit, same as me, which makes us even.
I said as much to Robin once, Scylla, and I ended up in the doghouse for a while. Although I DO tell her to [Cartman] Get her bitch ass in the kitchen and make me some pah! [/Cartman]. And that goes over really well, too. :rolleyes:
Anyway, yes, I’ll wear something distinctive. I’ll be wearing a black 323d TRS T-Shirt, with a rather large coiled rattlesnake on the back. Either that or I’ll be wearing a gray T-shirt with “Air Force” across the front of it.
Anyway, just look for the big, buff guy with some sort of Air Force clothing on, and that’s me.
Marine Corps? Pshaw. Pikers, I say. 
Scylla, I’m sure you’ll do fine in your race, but please don’t tell us if you’re wearing your wife’s underwear. Every manly post you write has been filtered through that particular admission. Thanks for your discretion.:eek:
::MsRobyn puts her waders on::
My, the testosterone is really getting thick.
Robin, who is NOT looking forward to her own labor marathon in August.
[sub]Sweetie, good luck, and don’t do anything stupid. ;)[/sub]
ASTOUNDING!
I would not stir myself to reach a remote to watch any of you running or otherwise kicking ass.
Yet I sit in this awful plastic chair at length and enjoy your threats enormously. It’s like the WWF as presented by the Literary Guild.
Just a couple more beers and I’ll be ready!
Two minutes? So we’re counting foreplay now too?
Ok, OK, I concede. I bow to your greatness.
So we meet, and then we start running. And right away I feel some chafing on both of my feet. But I ignored it, figuring it would just go away after we got further into the run.
Well, around mile 9, it became excruciating, and I told Scylla to go on ahead of me. By mile 11 I’m almost crawling. So I stop at one of the aid stations, take my shoes off, and find some blood.
I had gotten two blisters, one on each foot, and they were HUGE. They both exploded because I kept pushing it. So I had to fall out.
I’d just like to say for the record that it wasn’t a lack of conditioning that made me drop out, because I could have run all day long the way I was feeling. It was the failure of an essential part of my body that did it. And that pisses me off, because I just know I had it. Broken in shoes, previously worn socks, everything I did to prevent blisters made them worse.
Well, you got off easy this time Scylla. You won’t be so lucky next year.
Wow…
I’m very, very VERY proud of you, Dave.
If you can handle eleven miles of running, you can handle labor. It’s not that different.
I love you.
Robin