At the moment, Ben is in the kitchen loudly bragging to Bro-Love Kid about how "awesome" he is at the martial art tae kwon do. Ben helps run the tae kwon do club here at school, and is a first-degree (lowest level) black belt. He's also a dumbass.
Last semester, after accidentally letting it slip that I've practiced karate since age 6, Ben pestered me every single day to come to the tae kwon do club practices. Hoping the constant stream of annoying would stop, I finally gave in and attended a practice. Biggest. Waste. Of. Time. Ever.
The so-called "club" was (read: is) hardly worth being called one. Based on the way forms were taught, I'm guessing Ben's "black belt" was from some 6-month-long shopping mall martial arts program; you know, those ones where they come up to you in the mall with an information pamphlet and pretty much hand you a black belt as long as you pay them? Regardless of whether you know what I'm talking about or not, the "club" was pretty pathetic.
So now I'm listening to Ben boast to his butt-buddy about how "huge" he's going to be after today's workout. He's apparently been "working out" for years, and the only huge things I'm aware of him having are his huge ego and beer gut. Granted, he's a large kid (in build), but it all really boils down to the fact that he's a giant waste of space.
Of course there's, as usual, a personal soundtrack blaring in the background as he tells his epic tales of dumb. Ben's selection tonight is the song "Californication" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers on auto-repeat. Occasionally he'll jump in and "sing" a line or two he actually knows (it's obvious he doesn't know all the words...or how to sing in general). Great idea, dude.
Anyway, that's all I've got for now. Kill me, please. Enjoy.
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