I'm bored again. Still have 20-30 mins before I leave work. So as I listen to Astor Piazolla's Libertango on my iPod, I've decided to write another blog...this one offering a sample of stuff I've been heard to say when I'm doing martial arts.
I don the chest protector and have the students practice hitting me with reverse punches. One by one they come up and throw the techniques as I give them tips on how to do it harder. After a while, its my turn to hit someone, so I ask for a volunteer to put on the protector and take some punches. This chinese guy says he'd do it. I tell him "No, anyone would be fine but you -- it's not safe for me." Obviously confused, he asks why. I say, "Everyone knows you're in deep shit when you have a chink in your armor."
"Hey? Did that technique feel like shit? Cuz it certainly looked like it."
I'm drilling a pair of black belts in one of the most basic attacks in Japanese karate: the lunging punch. After years of hard work, these two guys are finally feeling confident enough that they might be able to hit someone if they do the move. I say "Good, now practice attacking the wall." I demonstrate what I want them to do: square off against the wall at a considerable distance, then execute a lunge punch while stopping the fist just before it makes contact. They start. One of the guys does only two or three of them before he slips. He must've been concentrating on catching his fall, forgetting to pull his fist, because his knuckles hit the wall. There's a thud. He stands up and holds his hand, checking to see if it's alright. Then he looks at me to acknowledge all is fine. "Hey man," I say to him, "With moves like that you don't need enemies."
"Wow. I was almost impressed."
There's this Mexican guy -- a black belt. I'm teaching him how to use the six-foot staff. Before I can get him to do some of the more complicated moves, I'm drilling him in swinging the staff harder and harder. He ain't getting it. Instead of making this loud whooshing sound as he swings, his swing is silent. "What's wrong with you, dude?" I ask. "I don't know, I didn't practice, I guess," he replies. "Dude, you been doing this for weeks and you still can't swing right," I say. "It's hard," he says. I answer: "Well, how about if I blindfold your ass and tell u there's a pinata hanging from the ceiling? Think you can swing hard then?"
A couple of Vietnamese American students are sitting next to each other at a dojo dinner. Both of their last names are (surprise!) Nguyen. I tell them, "It must be great when you two fight, huh?" They look at me puzzled. "Excuse me?" After taking another bite to eat, I say "When you two fight it's a Nguyen-Nguyen situation!" Of course there was another Vietnamese guy there, named Ngo. Wouldn't want him fighting either of the Nguyen's.
I'm outta here!
