Drive for show, Putt for dough.

Probably the funniest scene from the Sopranos ever, was when Tony went to a Golf Course to strong arm Dr. John Kennedy because he'd been ducking Uncle Juniors phone calls (lolz Uncle Junior used him because he was a big fan of President Kennedy and even though the guy was a complete dick, Junior Soprano thought he was like Jesus just because of his namesake) and during the course of the intimidation, Furio.....

(Tonys number one enforcer at the time) Took out a golf club from Dr. Kennedy's bag and Dr. Kennedy was like "oh, do you like Golf?" and Furio responded in his thick Italian accent "Estupid efucking game!" I was like "YES! Exactly"

Golf is clearly not my sport. I love any competition. I watch poker on ESPN2. Table Tennis whenever it's on. Jeopardy(especially when Ken Jennings was kicking ass) it hasn't been the same since.

but I still watch it. I'll sometimes watch over-hyped WNBA games. Of course I watch every NFL, CFB and arena league games I can find. College Basketball and NBA(til these effing crybabies make a season happen), I watch weird shit late at night on ESPN Channels like The deuce, classics, spanish etc. I watch a lot of weird shit. As long as there are points. Life is all about competition and points. Now with Golf, it is in deed competition, but the points go backwards. It's already weird for me because the person with the least amount of points win. I hate that shit. I also hate that I suck at golf, one of my best friends Clint Skinner is awesome at it and I respect that, but I still hate this stupid fucking game.I try to act cool and act like I know whats up when people are talking, but most times I'm reading mobile results from the intrawebz just so I sound in the know.

THE NEGATIVES: I'll never rub elbows with rich, oligarchy types that run the world because I refuse to develop a golf game when there is so much other shit going on for me.  I admittedly know I'm in the minority and a lot of you that read this, love it and all of my friends that read this know that I've tried and sucked. Maybe that's why I hate it. My first experience came with Aaron Woods at a 9-hole course in Jennings, LA with him and his late, great Step dad Ricky, which I appreciated because it was a legit lesson and they really tried to teach me how to play, it just wasn't in the cards for a non golfing mother effer like me....and I don't think I hit a straight ball the entire time, so Ricky was like, yeah, stick with football. I go to putt putt golf courses and fucking tee off on the first whole with the putter and the white ball and drive that bitch to the moon. Way better than I can when actually driving on the course. Once I got us kicked out of the putt-putt course in Galveston for rocking that bitch like 300 yds with the putter and then having to go tell the guy I lost my ball(umm 4 times because I just kept doing it on the reg, but I told him I think my ball keeps getting stuck in hole 1, like a mouse must be in there or something) They kicked us out eventually. I guess I forgot to yell "fore", or "Four", I'm still not sure the correct spelling of that. Then this fat fucking guy with 2 kids said I was a real asshole for teeing off like that in putt putt to which I replied, "you're just jealous because I'm the amazing golf ball whacker guy."  And he got froggy, so then I'm over at the batting cages with my shirt off thinking about how am I gonna kick this guys ass that outweighs me by like like 70 lbs and 10 years(and he must have been a dick to want to fight in front of his kids.) I'd never fight in front of Mariah unless Melissa steals the last piece of cornbread. Good times.  I think I really pissed Clint, Jack and Martin Driscoll off that night until I went to the batting cages and started letting the ball hit me in the face like in "Happy Gilmore" and I was like EEE-YESSS, that hurt a little bit, but I'm ok. "364 more days til hockey practice I have to toughen up."

All was forgiven and we shared some lolz which was way better than Golf. But that's pretty much been my experience with Golf. I don't know shit about it and I just disappear when big wigs at work are talking about it. I'll never fit in that way. My only hope at success is for this blog thing to blow up and buy me a foot in the door for some comedic writers that hopefully don't play golf, or I can become smarter and sexier. Both are highly unlikely but crazier things have happened. Like Mother Fucking Hot Air Ballons. Those things are nutts!

OK. so for the rest of this I'm going old school random. No points. No agendas. Just shit that's current events, pop culture, Yahoo front page etc. I'll drop a note and who knows what else and umm yeah. 

1.) Serious issues today/yesterday, Qaddafi got his grape busted. Oh well thought he was dead or captured since like August. One of those things I hear on TV and think, "Thought that shit has been over. Oh well I have more pressing issues!" Oh and when I was a kid and he was still a tyrant, I'd watch the world news at like 7/8 years old which was mid to late 80's then he bombed that plane Pan Am flight 103, I learned then that we could take out these evil dictators but as long as the US still had an agenda with them, they would be protected. The Scotts ran a harsh investigation and let the main terrorist go. I learned at a young age, politics is more than becoming President. It's running these fucked up countries until we don't need their dictators anymore. Oh and I thought his name was Boomar Gaddafi lolz. Boomar was a pretty effing cool name. Too bad it wasn't his. 


2.) If you get pulled over for weaving and a cop asks you to say your ABC's backwards just tell them that Mike Hicks's dad Red would be like, Say your dame ABC's Backurds, bitch. Just because. Red don't like cops either. He's always arguing with them over tickets and once I even watched him punk a state trooper out. It was awesome. Oh and my dad thinks the people occupying Wall Street are a bunch of hippies that all they did was play the God Damn Intenda(Nintendo) their whole life and this is why they can't find jobs. Never mind most of them have master degrees, but dammit, too much Intenda is what fucked em. 

3.) Our neighbor, well not ours exactly he lives about 4 houses up next to my aunt. He's gonna chloroform my cousin Billy one day and bury him in his basement. It scares me, but we know this guy is a legit psycho. At least Billy is aware of the situation and hopefully he'll escape with his life when that day comes. So yeah. 

4.) Yahoo had an article about how to cut 7,000 calories from your diet. I also had an idea. Stop eating 7,000 calories for your diet everyday, you fucking butthole.

If you walk on a treadmill like fat people do at .00001 mph on a 1 inch incline, you can still not only ruin the treadmill for me (When it's the last one in the gym), where I gets legit and try to do intervals that make professional boxers throw up...but I have to wait for Big 4hunned to finish her 2 hour stroll walking at a snails pace that she could do back n fourth in her living room. But you can still be fat and cut 4 calories a week from your routine and every bit helps. Do your thang. Oh, and we used to have these 2 fat women that swam at our pool in our apartment in Cleveland. That one summer me and Melissa wasn't doing anything except for planning our wedding and kind of taking some time off, so we had a tight routine where we'd play like 2 hours of tennis, then run for like 3 miles afterwards, do a tight arm work out at the playground and wind down by going swimming. From like 11am til 12pm it was adult swim, then all these booger eating morons would show up and you'd have to leave. But for that hour we shared the pool with what we called the "Weight Lifter Sisters", 2 broads that weighed like 220+ and carried these water/sponge weights across the pool in a very slow motion.

Then one of their husbands was scuba Steve. Dude was 60 and would straight wear his snorkel and mask and swim laps underwater, back and fourth.

It made it hard for me and Melissa to swim laps and eventually Melissa got tired of going because of the Weight Lifter Sisters and Scuba Steve, so one day I was just down there chillin trying to get a tan and Weight Lifter Sister one befriended me and started talking to me. She was telling me of her fall home in the Myrtles in the Carolinas. She told me she surfed in her off season. I'm not the most skeptical person in the world but watching her bounce back and fourth across about 10 meters of swimming pool barely able to breath from her "water weights" I wanted to call bullshit, bad. Instead all that came out was "Oh yeah, I rob Ahhmud cahs in Charlestown Boston in the off season. Then I put the whole town in my rear view!" Good times. 

5.) Have a good weekend. Thanks for all your inputs, but the best advice is "I'm just gonna be me." I'm gonna write the same random shit I've been doing for years. May start out with a legit premise then take you miles away from that topic. But that's just what I do. 

Keeping it realer than your old ass neighbor that just moved in 4 months ago and needs help everyday and wants you to go into his basement so he can kill you. Just don't go into the basement or attic. And Pray for my cousin Billy til this weirdo leaves him the eff alone. He waved at me one day and I was like "Uh, my arm is hurt, can't wave, but hope your having a stupendous day." That's how you handle serial killers.

I ain't scared of nothing, man.....

Except for ghost. Eyeballs. Cancer. Porcelain dolls. Clowns. Jack Nicholson. Snakes. And lots of other shit.

(I've said this before and anyone that reads my stuff has heard this before, but remember when people would argue about who they were more afraid of, Jason or Freddy? I'd be like "Neither, I'm afraid of Jack Nicholson, bitch.)

Halloween is coming up, so it's a good time to reflect on my fears. Any of my facebook friends, Google Plus friends or Twitter followers and real life friends that are too ignorant to learn how to use a computer but say it's because "I just hate computers, it's for nerds." ...are probably aware of the added pressure I've acquired over the past few weeks. I found out a while back that Kenny Powers is following me on twitter. "Vutever, No big deal!"

and then I recently received a flattering e-mail that appears to be pretty legit, letting me know that people in circles that I want to be in, are reading my shit. It's almost the same feeling of knowing there are college scouts in the stands before a major high school football game and instead of just going out there and doing what you do, you spend the hour before the game telling yourself how unworthy you are, how you're either too short or too slow to matter. Well G-Dammit, this time I'm not gonna buy into the fear. I'm 32 years old. I've switched careers about 74 times. I've gone back to school and already decided 3 times in less than 2 semesters on changing my degree plan. I'm more indecisive than a retarded rottweiler not knowing if I should attack a cat, or sit here and lick my nuts until someone decides I deserve attention and starts rubbing me on my head while I contemplate either killing them, or just going with the massage they are giving me and let them live to pet me another day. 

TRUE STORY: When I was a kid, there was this yard full of straight up killers. They had a Doberman Pincher (and they used to be the most feared killing machines of all dogs, but now you never see them because the Pitt Bulls and Rottweilers have taken all the good security jobs.) 

They had a Rottweiler puppy who was born evil, you could just tell he wanted to bite my throat off every time I looked at him. 

And then they had this big Golden Retriever looking dog (and normally I'm a huge fan of any Labs or Retrievers), but this one wasn't full blooded. He was mixed with something. Probably Satan, but I'd have to do a DNA test to be sure. 

Anyway, if I had to pick a dog in that yard that was gonna kill me, I probably would have went with the Doberman. I'd rank the Rottweiler number 2 and the Golden Retriever a close 3rd. This was the summer before I was going into 7th grade. My cousin Shawn who is about 3 years younger than me was being a dick and taunting the dogs for several minutes by kicking the fence and barking at them etc. I had no idea he was doing this though. Anyway, we were all playing Hide and Go Seek or Manhunt, and we used the entire neighborhood, there were no boundaries. Sometimes I would just go back to my house and watch "Wild and Crazy Kids" on Nickelodeon starring Cuba Gooding Jr's younger, fatter, less talented brother Omar Gooding,

while the person was counting at the tree about 4 houses up from mine. Oh, but since I'm on the topic, the funniest shit ever was when "Baby Boy" came out with Tyrese and Omar Gooding played his gangster best fiend "Sweetpea." How in the eff are you gonna go from hosting a kids show on Nick to being a straight head buster that's gigoloing your girlfriend for her moms house and they are buying you X-boxes and shit. Then you decide to clip Snoop Dogg, who was also pretty hilarious in that movie. For the record, Baby Boy was probably the funniest, unintentional comedy ever written (besides maybe "Piranha" that I did a spoilers blog on a few weeks ago), and I watch it every time it's on BET because it's even more hilarious when it's edited. 

So anyway, I'd go back to my house, fix myself some of the generic Kool Aid that I think was just called "Coolade", watch either "Wild n Crazy Kids" or "Hey Dude", whichever happened to be on at the time, finish it and figure I'd been hidden long enough. Then I'd hit the back alley, jump a few fences and sprint to the tree that we called "Base." Well this particular time, Shawn was fucking with these evil beasts in the yard next to the one I used to jump the fences to make it home free. As I put my arm on one of the fence posts, to leverage myself so I could jump over the gate, I felt my arm being tugged HARD in the opposite direction. I've never been attacked by a shark, but I'd imagine this is what it would feel like. Once I got a handle on the situation and realized what was happening, I started fucking petting the dog and scratching him behind his ears saying "aww, nice puppy, nice puppy," while he is chewing the fuck out of my arm like a caveman eating a caribou. By now the blood is splattering everywhere and I think I'm seeing my bone a little bit in between his biting and regaining leverage so that he can rip my arm off. I then decide being nice to him isn't gonna work so I start banging my arm and the bottom part of his mouth on the fence spikes thinking he'll let go from the pain of having sharp objects stabbing him through his mouth. 

Then I think Shawn might have thrown something at him and he let go for a brief second, just enough time for me to grab my arm back and throw up in my mouth a little bit. This situation was terrible enough, but what made it worse was the fact that my mom was gone for a month to a school for her job, up in Virginia or D.C. or something, I don't really remember because all I can remember about that summer now is thinking I'm gonna look like the Terminator when he cut off the skin of his arm to prove to Miles Dyson that he was in deed a robot sent from the future to protect John Connor and kill the fuck out of everyone else. 

So the next step in this saga is to sprint home. I ran faster than Usain Bolt the full 200 meters or so to my house. I swear to God I wish someone would have timed it because I know for a fact I set some kind of record.

This incident occurred at about 6:25pm. My Grandma was staying with us that month to help with the womanly things around the house like cooking, washing dishes and clothes, nagging, complaining etc. My dad had his own shop at the time and he'd work from like 5am til usually dark, but he happened to just be getting home on this night a little earlier than usual. My Dad's only mission or goal that summer was to not let me die. He wanted my mom to think he could control me and nothing bad would happen because it's no secret I was a little hellion. I used to jump on the back of a train and ride it for miles until my Gran caught me about a week before this dog bite incident and she beat the living piss out of me with a switch all the way home talkin bout "My brother Jimmy lost his leg playing on trains like that back in the 50's. My brother Jimmy lost his leg playing on trains like that back in the 50's. My brother Jimmy lost his leg playing on trains like that back in the 50's." in between spanks of the switch. The only thing I really learned from that experience was that my Grans brother Jimmy lost his leg playing on trains back in the 50's and that I should never get caught doing it again, because it was just way too fun to completely stop doing it.  So as soon as I walk in the house my dad asks me whats wrong and I'm all "Uhh nothing, I just have to use the bathroom." I figured that if I went into the bathroom and put some peroxide on it, it would be fine. 

By then he's banging on the door demanding to know what happened after seeing a trail of blood from the front door leading into the bathroom, so I had to open the door. Once he saw my arm, he almost fainted. There is nothing worse than other peoples reactions to your own injuries. I've learned that through time. I've been hurt pretty seriously about a million times in my life and each time I could take the pain pretty well, until someone looked at me and was like "DAMN, Oh Shit, you're gonna die, we have to get you to the hospital." Then that's when I fall apart and start shaking and going into shock or whatever they call it. So now my dad makes me get in his truck and he's taking me to the hospital. One sentence he's demanding to know what happened, then he's hitting/spanking me on my good arm(Nice Parenting Dick) because he's so worried my mom is gonna kill him when she gets home(like all of this was his fault or something) then he'd be real quiet, then flip out again. I was thinking to myself "Thanks for the comforting words asshole, now I know everything will be ok thanks to your calming demeanor." There is just something special about watching your parents lose their shit when you do something wrong, when they lose their composure, it's the scariest thing in the world. And the more I thought about it, I really didn't even do anything wrong except for getting eaten by a dog. I was thinking "what the fuck is gonna happen when I really mess up in the future and total my car or get caught egging people?" Things that are actually my fault, ya know? So we get to Sparks hospital and at this point I'm not even hurting anymore, I guess I was kind of worried that I was gonna lose a limb, but compared to watching my dad flip his shit, I was perfectly ok with that. The doc was cool, he told me he used to stitch up gangbangers out in Phoenix and LA and that this was nothing. That's all I needed to hear. I ended up getting like 30 stitches on the top part of my arm, and another 20 or so on the bottom. I survived. I should be on one of those fucking shows on Discovery or whatever channel it comes on where women survive being shot in the face by their estranged husbands or whatever.  

So the dog that bit me wasn't the Doberman or the Rottweiler. It was the freaking Golden Retriever mix. If I was laying money on which one of those dogs would kill me first, I would have lost my ass. Oh well, I suck at gambling anyway, but I do still have a left arm and it was good that it was my left arm because I don't use it a lot anyway. I broke my right hand and wrist which required surgery my Senior year of High School and that was a huge bitch. You take for granted all the things you use your dominant hand for, until you can't use it at all. That did allow me to become somewhat ambidextrous, but I still have a lot more fun with my right arm. 

That's all I got for now. If you haven't already subscribed, please do so and leave comments. The more traffic I get, the more of a valuable commodity I'll look like. And that's important. Because I want to do a fun career to put my baby through college and buy my wife a Benzo. I don't want to work for it the hard way like most people do. 

Keeping it realer than your Uncle Steve that buys 200 dollars in scratch offs on the reg and tells people he once hung out with Michael Douglas at a strip club and almost got a part in "Wall Street" because of it.     

Check my ID, Bitch. Please check my ID.

Because I look young as hell, so you better check that shit and not be taking chances on selling Thunderbird to a minor.

FRIEND: "Whats up Mike? Happy birthday brah! You guys have any plans tonight? I know you will be doing big thangs. Ain't no party like a Mike Hicks party."
ME: "Oh yeah. Most def. I think we're gonna rent Horrible Bosses and probably go to taco bell and get one of those Chalupa's like in the commercial where that weirdo retard Brian Wilson acts like he's black ops and tries to rob that nerd for his chalupa. And quite honestly, that chalupa is probably the most beautiful thing I've seen on TV since Lyla Garrity in season one of Friday Night Lights. So Yeahhhh Booyyyyy. Looking fwd to a pretty fun evening!"

 FRIEND: "umm, Oh, sounds awesome man. Sounds like you're gonna have a crazy weekend.

 ME: "Well check that, I think I have heartburn real bad right now, so I'm just gonna exnay the taco bell thing and have pork chops and macaroni and catch up on all the shows I've got on the DVR that I've been too sick to watch the past few weeks. So I guess we won't be partying so hard after all."

FRIEND: "Oh, umm yeah. I feel ya dog. I hear heartburn sucks. My dad gets it." 

Does this dialogue sound fucking depressing? Does it make you think I'm a total loser that shouldn't be turning 32 but probably 61 instead? If you say yes, then I kind of agree with you, but instead of being depressed, I'm having way more fun right now listening to the Leesville/Peabody game on KJAE via the intranets and thinking about how, "Effing A! there is still some of those gangster ass pork chops left over and I'm gonna smash it in a few."

Flashback 7 years ago. I was being shot at on the reg by insurgents from every part of the middle east while riding down route Irish from the Green Zone to Camp Liberty, about 2-3 days a week. For fun in my off time I'd hang out on the roof of a building with my fun as shit co-workers and sometimes some of the most elite warriors on the planet, less than 100 meters from one of the most dangerous streets in the world and drink 16 oz Heinekens, and laugh at the celebratory gunfire after some random Iraqis won their soccer game. One time a British guy we often hung out with and usually got us the best beer in the International Zone got shot by a celebratory AK round in the neck. Until then, we just thought it was either a myth or you had to be extremely unlucky for that to happen, and since he didn't die, we thought it was hilarious and just continued hanging out on the roof counting the bullets we heard hit the cement. I'd sleep about 3 hours a day or night, depending on what shift I was working because I was afraid I might miss something awesome happening if I slept too long, and even with the severe lack of sleep I had more energy on a daily basis than most Olympic athletes. I worked and lived to go on the most extravagant vacations, in some of the most exciting, amazing and romantic places in the world roughly every 4-5 months. I did whatever I felt like doing and really had no one to answer to but myself and I was a pretty easy boss umm on myself, too. I scuba dived in several of the best underwater locations in the world, jumped out of planes, fast roped or rappelled down ropes sometimes 200-400 feet high. I would raft through class 4-5 rapids and hope to fall out just to see if I could beat drowning (which we all did once in crocodile infested waters in Costa Rica). 

I'd go to bars and once I got bored with drinking, I'd hope for a fight. Anything to bring excitement to my life and like any drug, the more you get, the more it takes to receive the same high. To say I was an adrenaline junkie was a severe understatement. I lived by the motto that you had to test yourself everyday, and if I didn't do something on a particular day that would scare the complete shit out of me, then that day was a huge fail and I couldn't even fall asleep for those 2-3 hours that I was accustomed to, due to a mixture of disappointment and the thoughts of "What am I gonna do tomorrow to make up for this failure?" It may have been 6-7 years ago when I lived like this, but now it seems like almost a century ago.

I turned 27 on October 14th, 2006. I can almost pinpoint the exact moment when I changed completely. I met Melissa about a month before I turned 27(September 6th 2006 to be exact) and that was probably the first step in me thinking/realizing there are better things in life than close calls, copious amounts of alcohol and the confirmation pain that makes you feel alive. Although we were only talking at that time and were becoming pretty good friends, I spent the night of my 27th birthday in a club in Australia (while Trent and Half Nut had just about every girl in the southern hemisphere bringing us free drinks and treating us like rock stars), thinking about Melissa. For one quick moment I relished in the attention or somewhat spotlight we were in, but then that veered off when I had an epiphany that looked a lot like Melissa. Just a vision of her, or really a vision of her not being there and realizing how bad I wished she was there. I guess I was falling in love and that was changing everything. That was pretty much the last hoorah for me. By the end of that 3 week adventure, all I could think about was getting back close to my future love and planning an escape plan for the life I was living, and a strategy to start a new, better one. 

NOW: October 14, 2011. I'm 32. I just got out of the hospital with probably my 11th kidney stone. For adrenaline rushes I stalk the fantasy football boards and hope to catch the next great, yet current nobody that will flip out and go for 200+ yards on Sunday and get me like 40 purnts. I stalk my daughter like I'm the CIA and she's Osama's courier, waiting on her to say real words or to discover her doing something I've never seen her do before. I want to be there for her first everything. So far she's learned to say "Football" or "Touchdown" as soon as the TV is turned on a game and that gets me just about as krunk as any action adventure I've ever experienced. Instead of GTL on the reg to go to the clubs and pick up hoes, whoops, I mean girls. I only do cardio workouts in the privacy of my own home and some push-ups so that I don't develop heart problems like my dad, and so I can somewhat impress Melissa and hear her say "You are looking sexy!" it's all the approval I really need.

I'm not sure that if the Me I am now, ran into Mike Hicks back in like 2004 and told him of my new hobbies as well as let him see that I've gained like 40+ lbs and am bald not because of style, but because my hair is thinning on top anyway, so I beat it to the punch.....I'm not sure I'd walk away from that meeting.

I never would have imagined that all the things I chased for so many years looking for happiness, would have been washed by the true happiness I have now, because I'm not sure I could have justified it to myself back then, how truly lucky and blessed I am today. It's just in these short moments of reflection that I think about what I have and smile, thinking back on how ignorant I was to true happiness. There isn't a good time I had in the past, not even the best time I ever had back then, that I wouldn't gladly trade for what I have now.

So in conclusion, getting old and broken sucks. In so many ways. But waking up every morning at 6am and kissing Melissa on the forehead, and then smelling Mariah's hair while she's still sound asleep is the only reason I'm here. The cycles of life are important. Without certain experiences, certain failures and extreme pain, you can never appreciate the good, no, great things in life. So on this 11,680th day of my life, instead of being resentful for losing some of my youthful exuberance, feeling like a pinata that hasn't busted yet, and no longer having the motivation to live life on the edge like I once did, I gladly take the trade I was granted. I thank God everyday that I have such a beautiful family and so many great friends. The memories are great, but the present is much better. When I say I'm depressed about my physical depreciation, clearly I'm joking. Because I have everything I could possibly want or need at this stage of my life. A gift so awesome, that I never even imagined it in my daydreams of my younger days. A wife so perfect and beautiful that she exceeded anything I could have ever imagined in my own mind, and a daughter so perfect, I still look at her and can't believe how perfect she is, or the fact that YES, she's real.  

This is why October 14, 2011 is the best birthday ever. And as long as I have my 2 M's, every birthday from here on out will be the same, perfect day.  

I no longer look at the old or even middle aged people in the world, that look somewhat beaten down by life and say to myself, "You Poor Bastard!" Because chances are they have everything in their life that I have. Even if we are a little older, slower and uglier.

BUT if they don't have a Melissa and Mariah like I do, then hell yeah, their life really must fucking suck lolz.

Happy Birthday To Me! 

I probably used to be a huge bully before people thought it wasn't cool to be one.

But I wasn't like a big, dumb, mean, unoriginal bully like Officer Farva. I'll just say that. 

Damn, it's been almost 2 weeks since I posted anything and that was just a remix from something I did a long time ago...and almost a month since I did anything original. Life has been hectic though. School is in full swing, I had 4 tests in 3 days last week and all of them were study worthy, there were no gimmies, like there used to be in Mrs. Kinsinger's class my Sophomore year of HS where me and Greg Burns disrupted her class so bad that we got kicked out for the entire year in like October. She was like "Get the Eff Out! Both of you!" and when we asked her where we should go, she said "Anywhere, just get out of my room!" So we would basically spend second hour walking around the school, hiding out in bathrooms whenever we saw Mr. Clay or Coach Williams or we'd go to play Nintendo with the special needs kids in Mrs. Cryer's room until Greg got in a fight over losing to one of them at Sports Jeopardy and wore out our welcome. But we were still allowed to come into her class on Fridays to take her vocabulary tests (although we had to get out immediately after) and those were the "Gimmies" I referred to. So we still passed with like an A or a B after attending only one month of her classes for the entire year, and like 7 or 8 classes when we had a sub and we were then allowed to hang out in the class we were not only supposed to be in, but were required to. 

I look back now and I feel really shitty about how we treated Mrs. Kinsinger. We pretty much (me and Greg) would just talk to each other or blurt shit out about whatever was on our mind, no matter what it was, even while she was teaching. Then she tried to split us up, so he was in one corner on the south side of the room and I was in the other corner on the north side of the room (she set the room up where the desks were facing each other, 15 desks on one side and 15 on the other, like Miss Bliss did on the shitty episodes of the junior high saved by the bell), so then we started our own Mafias. I was Nino Brown from the North Side, 

and Greg was Sal Margurito from the South. We pretty much split up both sides of the class into our respective mafias and had our own gang signs and everything. I realize this sounds really unfunny and juvenile when reading it, but you have to believe it was pretty hilarious just because of the reasons I stated, it was so juvenile and really unfunny. She made it where we couldn't talk so we'd always find a way to communicate. I'd pull out my wallet and pretend it was a cell phone (and this was 95, when the only people that had cellies were Zack Morris, single 40 year old dudes perpetrating in the bars like they were rich like your uncle does now and dickhead Hollywood Agents)

and we'd just scream across the room like black people do on their phones at the movies. Then when she shut that method down, we'd open our books and act like they were computers or fax machines(and this was way before AIM Instant Messenger and shit, we were pretty fucking innovative if I do say so myself) and I'd act like I was typing something (from my rigged up lap top)

and Greg would pull out a paper, imitating how a paper does when it comes out of a fax machine and read it out loud. I can't remember some of the things that led up to the final straw exactly, but I know that she did lose total control of us. (I'm not bragging by saying this, but later I will tell you how I know she lost total control). Anyway, if I remember correctly, she was playing a "book on tape" of some Shakespeare shit or something, I think it was Julius Caesar. It was so boring, that we would spend the hour throwing our pencils into the ceiling trying to make them stick. Then we ran out of pencils and would throw pennies. I know we started this, but at some point the entire class was pretty much doing it. Like 2 days before this she noticed like 7 dollars worth of pennies in her ceiling and she asked the entire class who was doing it. Before she finished her sentence I was like "Not me! You blame me for everything!" then she just busted out screaming "I DIDN'T EVEN BLAME YOU" and her tone literally sounded like a fucking dog barking at me and I think she freaked herself out so bad by her sudden outburst of anger that she just dropped it and moved on to something else. So 2 days later, we're listening to the tape, everyone in the room is just throwing all the shit they own at the ceiling trying to get it to stick. She eventually looks up and sees me trying to throw a ball of paper at one of the pencils already stuck in the ceiling. I was trying to knock down my pencil so I'd have something better to throw than a piece of paper up at the ceiling basically. For what it's worth, if she hadn't looked up, my next attempt was gonna be my English book because it was way heavier and I knew I'd knock that fucker down with that. So she looks up, catches me and just completely loses her shit. She pretty much bum rushed me and grabbed me by my ear like Veronica Vaughn did Billy for making fun of the stuttering kid in "Billy Madison." 

She marched me to the office, made me dial my moms work number and ask for her, then she jacked the phone out of my hands while I was saying "umm Mom she's about to lie to you about everything, it wasn't me lolz."...She then goes on to explain to my mom what an asshole I am and how I'm robbing all the other kids of an education (yeah right, there wasn't one person in that room that gave a shit and they enjoyed watching me and Greg's shenanigans way more than listening to her psychobabble about God knows what..well maybe this one nerd that used to roll her eyes at us, but she didn't matter), and my Mom was like "OK, well I was in a meeting so I can't talk right now, but I'd be glad to talk to you later concerning the matter", this pissed her off thinking my mom didn't give a shit about what she was saying, so she just hung up the phone (that really pissed my mom off and she wasn't even mad at me then, she was mad at the teacher for being rude and hanging up on her, AWESOME!) and marched me back in the room. We got back in the room and she told me not to say another word or she'd tell Coach Smith about my behavior (which I have no idea why she never went to him for assistance in the first place, had she told him in September that I was a fucking butt hole, I would have been a church mouse for the rest of the year). Once everything is settled down and the entire class just looks surprised that I didn't either get sent home or stabbed in the face, she then proceeds to press play on the old ass tape recorder from the fucking Brady Bunch era 

and instead of Julius Caesar resuming where it left off, that Junior Mafia song "Get Money" comes on and it's on the part where lil Kim goes "Grab on your dick as this bitch gets deep, Deeper than the pussy of a bitch six feet." Mrs. Kinsinger just really lost it at that point. She lost it more than when she flipped out on my ear like 20 minutes earlier, or even 2 days before that when she barked at me like a jack russel terrier. This was a different kind of "Lost It." She just got completely quiet and as pale as Michael Jackson when Conrad Murray killed him. Then her hands started to shake like an alcoholic that's in his first 24 hours of sobriety. Then, I just got up and said "I did it!" and of course because I wasn't in the room at the time it happened, it garnered me a cheap, although huge laugh from everyone. I literally kicked her while she was down and my heart broke a little bit (Well not then, but now it does). Then she just gave up. You could see the look in her eyes, it was the same look that Saints fans used to get every October when they were already eliminated from the playoffs. She reaches into her bag for her cigarettes, and HOLY FUCK! those were gone too. One of the other hoodlums in the classroom snatched them while she took me to the office. I'm not gonna say who did it, but his name rhymes with Treg. She left the room quietly and I really don't know where she went. But it was like 20 minutes before the bell rang and she didn't come back. 


The next day she was there and as soon as me and Greg showed up. She made a huge spectacle out of us, and that's when she banished us from her room. At first we thought it was cool and hilarious, until we found out how effing hard it is to dodge the laws in the Leesville High School hallways without a hall pass. After all the ducking and dodging I did that year, I felt like what Bin Laden must have felt like since 9/11. The thing I never understood was after that day, she never told any higher authorities on us, never called our parents back and pretty much never said another word to us. At all. We were just forgotten. Out of sight and out of mind. This had to be like the 2nd week in October and we spent the rest of the year thinking this is an odd situation, but we must not be in trouble. Then me and Greg were both going to the Jay Novacek camp that summer and a thing came out in the paper about it that April. She saw us both in the hallway one day and was like "Oh, Congratulations guys, I guess you both aren't losers after all." whatever that meant? About 5 weeks goes by and we took her final the next to last day of school and skipped the entire last day. I can't remember what we did that day, but it was probably like play a scrabble tournament all day and discuss educational shit or something similar. So I get home that night at like 7 to change and take a shower and wash all that scrabble playing residue off of me and I hear my mom on the phone repeating "No way. No way. I can't believe this. I can't believe he'd do this. This isn't how I raised him etc." I ducked into the hallway thinking "Oh Shit!" In my mind I was wondering is this about the time we egged that guys house a few weeks ago and he happened to come outside and started chasing us so we were just pelting him in the face for like 5 minutes with eggs until he quit chasing us? Was this about the time we stole 40's from shoprite but left a few dollars at the door so it wasn't "Technically stealing?" or was it about one of the many million fights we had been into. There were probably another 70 or so options I'm not gonna mention, but I knew it was bad. About an hour later my mom screams at me and tells me "You are not going to Dallas next week, you aren't doing anything all summer. You have embarrassed me for the last time blah blah blah." Then she pretty much regurgitates everything I'd ever done wrong in Mrs. Kinsingers class that year. She spent almost 2 hours talking on the phone, telling her everything we did in her class (some of it I didn't even remember doing, but apparently it was worse than anything I mentioned on here), and other things she heard we were doing outside of school. I couldn't believe it, but I knew it was too good to be true that nothing initially happened to us when we got kicked out of her room in October. I then called Greg up and the same thing had happened to him. Anyway, it was just temporary. I convinced my mom that the lady hated all jocks and she hurt my feelings the first week of school because she called me a retard in front of everyone and I wanted to cry. I flipped the script again and I also feel bad about that now, like 15 years later. But this is how I know I really got to her. I never thought of myself as a bad person that could ruin the life of someone. I just thought I was a mischievous jokester, that was relatively harmless. 

Also the next year, Woods had her class and the first day of school he said "Did Mike Hicks used to be in here?" and her response was "Get Out!" and she hated Woods all year just because he was one of my best friends. He didn't even do shit. She was such a hater. And apparently it was illegal to ever say my name in that room again, kind of like in Gangs of New York how Bill the Butcher would kill someone for mentioning the Dead Rabbits.

Sorry this is so long, but I had another episode of kidney stones last night. One of the awesome blessings I inherited from my dad. I couldn't get his height or his strong arm or anything good, but I did get his messed up ass kidneys. So I'm pretty much doing nothing today but watching football and bored out of my mind (like way different than most Saturdays lolz). I was actually gonna do a blog about way more intellectual shit, discussing how I now totally agree with Thomas Hobbes and how he thinks humans are inherently evil and prone to do bad things like Latarian Milton. And after I've been seeing all this shit posted on facebook about "Stop the bullies!" I was kind of doing a self assessment of my life hoping that I've never been a bully. So you got my story about how I pissed off Mrs. Kinsinger instead because it was a combination on Thomas Hobbes theories of me and my bullying memories. 

To Mrs. Kinsiger, if you happen to read this. I am very sorry for ruining your life that year. I was very nice to you in the hallways the next 2 years because I felt very guilty that I ruined a whole year of your life and I sincerely hope you forgive me. I can't speak for Greg though because you pissed him off pretty bad by calling his dad. But I'm cool with it because I deserved to umm, uh, well not really get in trouble or anything, but I did get yelled at for 5 minutes by my Mom.  


Your Grandpa still watches Porn and erases the history immediately after and acts like he doesn't know shit about computers.  

Probably The Most Awesome Movie Ever Made. Ever!

OK, I wrote this last summer(2010) and posted it under "notes" on facebook. Not sure it got many views since it was on FB, but because of that and the fact that I read some gossip on a part 2 that's currently in the works (and I'm super krunk about that), I decided to repost this. Also keep in mind that I wrote this before it came out at the theater or even on bootleg(as far as I was aware of), so it's not 1 thousand percent accurate as far as the script goes, it was just my predictions which weren't all that far off. But I mean, you don't have to be Mrs. Cleo to predict the premise of an action movie, even if there is really no trailer other than the names of the guys that were gonna be in it. Here it goes......

(Before reading this, click on the video and play this krunk ass music while you read my krunk ass shit!)

It's no secret to anyone that knows Mike Hicks, that I've been waiting for this movie since I heard it got green lit like 3 summers ago. Here is just my little synopsis/predictions and the reason why everyone else should go see this and love it as much as I do.

Basically they(the writers, namely Sylvester Stallone) want us to believe a bunch of Blackwater type Mercs are about to involve themselves in a mission that isn't really worth the $130K they pay you every 4 months with 30 days paid leave. But I see it like this: It's Stallone, Statham, Jet Li, Randy Couture, Terry "Cheeseburger Eddy" Crews and Mickey Rourke on the same squad vs 80,000 Cocaine induced South Americans led by Eric Roberts, Stone Cold Steve Austin and I'm thinking a defective Dolph Lundgren.....so clearly Eric Roberts and his South Americans are outnumbered.
 
SO NOW FOR A LITTLE BIT ABOUT THE EXPENDABLES
The Leader: Barney "Schizo" Ross(played by Stallone)

lolz, remember that Brisk Commercial?

Anyway, I digress. Barney Ross aka The Schizo, is a veteran Expendable and leader of the team. Barney was trained in hand-to-hand combat and has extensive special weapons training. For Ross every mission is the last mission,... till the next mission. So we know he's a great boxer, I saw him fight a few times and beat up Apollo Creed, Clubber Lang, Ivan Drago, Tommy "The Machine" Gun and took Mason "The Line" Dixon to the limit in arguably one of the greatest boxing matches in the history of umm Boxing. Dude can fight, there is no question. He also got pissed off by a few backwoods Sheriff deputies and took out the whole fucking police force along with the Washington Army National Guard while armed only with a navy dive knife and a rope. And then in order to be freed from that little travesty he wiped out what was left of the Viet Cong in the mid 80's and rescued some POW's that our Government had all but given up on. So yeah, he's got some combat experience I'd say.

The Backup/2nd in Command: Lee Christmas

Not to be confused with Lloyd Christmas(another bad ass in his own right)

So anyway, Lee Christmas played by Jason Statham is former SAS(You know the baddest the British have to offer outside of Austin Powers maybe) and some kind of savant with blades, knives or anything sharp(Basically he's a fucking Ninja). Seems to have a good although very competitive relationship with Barney Schizo, and I'm sure he's one hell of a driver. So he brings a lot to the table...excellent driving skills, he'll kick your ass with a samurai sword. He's probably good at surviving crazy shit like Bear Grylls(I mean he can probably scale a glacier bare footed while using his shoe strings as a safety harness) and you already know he has a cool accent. No matter what British dudes say, it sounds cool as hell when they say it. They could say "I have explosive diarrhea" and it's gonna sound very gentleman like and impressive.


The number 3 guy is Yin Yang (Played by Jet Li)

OK, WOW! what kind of racist shit is that? they could have came with a much better Asian name than that in my opinion, but whatever. What would make it funnier though is if he had a twin and they both screamed random loud shit all the time as they sipped crunk juice from a "Pimp" sippy cup.

So "Yang" is a master at close quarter combat. They really give no other back history other than that, but I'd imagine he's some kind of Chinese spook or former special agent that made friends with these guys for making fun of his size or lack there of. Also note, he's probably the one cast member that didn't juice up prior to shooting.

Now I'm very excited to see Randy Couture in his first major role in a big box office movie. He plays "Toll Road." Uh wait, oh yeah never mind, I got that right. His fucking name is actually "Toll Road." That's not real original and kind of a rip off of GI JOE's "Road Block." But I guess on the flip side if you were in a bar and a guy spilled a drink on you and then told you his name was "Toll Road" I'm not so sure I'd want to try whipping his ass or anything. Just Because! His name is Toll Road.

Me: Umm Bitch I'm gonna kick your ass!
Toll Road: Oh Yeah? Well my name is Toll Road!
Me: Oh shit, never mind. My apologies. Can I buy you an apple martini and call it even?

 

Now last but certainly not even close to being least!

Hale Caesar: Played by none other than Terry Crews. Probably better known for his roles as Damien OG Triple OG in Friday 3(and instead of calling it "The Friday After Next", they should have called it "Friday: Not This Shit Again!" Besides Terry Crews, the Holy Moly donut guy was the only redeeming factor in that movie.

DAMIAN OG TRIPLE OG......

But perhaps my favorite role ever...
CHEESEBURGER EDDY

Anyhow, Terry Crews basically plays Stallone's longtime friend "Hale Caesar"(arguably the coolest name ever) who is some kind of expert in long barrel weapons. He seems to be the most loyal to Stallone's character and does whatever is asked of him. Terry Crews easily has the best character name ever "Hale Caesar"....that's just so freaking cool. I really don't even need to elaborate or make up a scenario on how cool that name would be while used in a sentence. You pretty much just don't fuck with a gentleman named "Hale Caesar" especially when he's like a 6'3" 240 lbs of a solid muscle having black guy. 

Also, Mickey Rourke is featured and plays "Tool" and seems to be the black market guy that can get his hands on any kind of weapon and intel as well. He seems to be a real veteran of the group and is more administrative, logistical and relied on for his wisdom and advice. Oh, and apparently he gives tattoo's. 

What a "Tool" lolzzzzz

NOW FOR THE BAD GUYS!

David Zayas, the guy that played Enrique Morales on "Oz" plays General Garza.

A guy that clearly has no idea how fucking bad ass the Expendables are. This would be like Jimmy from South Park picking a fight with Brock Lesnar.  

So a mysterious church in the form of Bruce Willis and Arnold Schwartzaeneasgesazzxpger(sp) offers Barney "The Schizo" Ross and his men a job no one else would take. Well of course not, no one else is as bad ass and has a 74 lb nut sack like Stallone and his band of Expendables. Well Barney and his men embark on what appears to be a routine mission(LOL, yeah right, that would make for a great action movie) to overthrow General Garza(dude from Oz) the murderous, Pablo Escobar like dictator of the small island country of Vilena.
"Relax guy, he's not that bad!"

On a Recon mission to Vilena, Barney meets his contact, a female freedom fighter named Sandra.
SANDRA... 

Well of course she has to be hot, not some local Booger like most female freedom fighters I've seen in my day that can just give out info/intel and move on back to their village.

Turns out Sandra is a local freedom fighter with a dark secret. The Expendables also come to learn who their true enemy is. Wait for it.............

Rogue Ex-CIA Operative Eric Roberts lulz. Who really hasn't kicked much ass in a long fucking time. And his performance in "Best of the Best" was whack at best. I was like 10 when Best of the Best came out and I know I could have Tae Kwon Do'd the shit out of him then, he never impressed me. The Pony Tail was bitch made and it's hard to take a movie seriously where Chris Penn is one of the best martial artists in the United States(and he wears an effing Cowboy Hat). 

BUT, along with Eric Roberts bitch ass he happens to have a pretty bad ass Ace up his sleeve in the form of henchman "Dan Paine" aka STONE COLD STEVE MOTHER FUCKIN AUSTIN!

I once watched him beat down Brock Lesnar so bad that I forgot what I was watching.

I mean there are certain moments in your life when you witness an ass whoopin so great, you forget what you just saw. It's like some kind of ass kicking paradox and it's so startling that your jaw drops, you go deaf and blind for a minute or two, and then you shit your pants. Then 2 minutes later you come back to yourself and you're all like "WTF just happened and why do I have shit in my boxers?" Besides this one isolated incident, I've only seen something similar one other time when Joey Kovar from the Real World Hollywood beat the fuck out of that heavy bag......

 
Anyway, apparently shit goes totally wrong and Stone Cold gives Stallone and his crew the Paradox shits, like I described earlier. 


So Rambo and the Transporter leave the hot contact(Sandra) behind, pretty much leaving her fucked up worse than Whitney Houston and she's probably gonna be killed. Now, in a sudden sense of Good Guy-ism, Barney convinces his squad of Mercs to return to Vilena. Recoil, reload and re-fuck-up General Garza and Eric the Bitch Roberts to finish the job he started and perhaps in his own mind, save his own soul. Oh, but he's definitely not gonna be trying to fuck Sandra or anything after he saves her. This is strictly about morals and he would have done the same thing for these chicks! 

THE POSSIBLE NEGATIVES OF THIS MOVIE.....

It's missing Chuck Norris, Vin Diesel, Jackie Chan, Steven Seagal, The Rock, John Cena, Hulk Hogan, Shaq(from his Shaq-Fu and "Steel" days of course) not his shitty, can't rebound and misses lay-ups Cleveland Cavalier days. Or else it would have had pretty much every action star of the last 45 years. 

SOME AWESOME AND HILARIOUS TRIVIA:

Jean Claude Van Damme was offered a role, but he turned it down claiming that there was no substance in the character. LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL because Van Damme was an Oscar performing actor with the utmost acting integrity. This role was clearly beneath him. Ha Ha, that's awesome! 

I will end by saying this........

Sylvester Stallone's character Barney "The Schizo" Ross has what might be the best quote EVER, in any movie by saying, "We are the shadows, the smoke in your eyes, the ghosts that hide in the night.".....This quote alone makes me want to run like 70 miles, do 9 million push-ups and immediately go and enlist in the Israeli Mossad, then pistol whip your Grandma with a cell phone. Right now I can barely walk because my back is hurting so bad, but hearing that quote makes me want to go dunk a basketball on these little Mexican kids down the street and then tell them "I am the shadow, the smoke in your eyes and the ghost that hides in the night!" and then light up a cigar, toss the match and walk away in slow motion with the theme song from "The Last of the Mohicans" playing in the background of my mind.

NOTE:  I left out pictures and a lot of information on Dolph Lundgren because I've honestly hated his guts since he killed Apollo Creed in Rocky IV. I hope he gets killed real hard in this movie by Sylvester Stallone. Again. And after he kills him I hope he says some really cool one liner shit..... like maybe he'll cut off his head with a butter knife and he'll say "Never lose your head in a combat situation" in his semi punchy, New Jersey voice. That would rule!