|Posted by Stephen on April 27, 2012 at 7:45 AM|
by Stephen Gillikin
I'm just going to tell you right now, being a bad ass is not easy. It takes more than an attitude, more than killer cars, and more than hordes of bitches. And I do have all these things whenever I'm on little sleep, or am watching "Christine," or am volunteering at the animal shelter.
However, the most important part of being a bad ass is the scars. To be a real BA you need to have stories of manly, bodily injury.
And I have those.
3rd grade. I'm playing in the backyard and wearing short khaki shorts and white socks pulled up all the way, because that's how Bad A's do it.
And my make-believe play-time was so fricken' hard, that I broke my arm. I broke my arm by jumping but not completely clearing a wooden sheep lawn ornament. Boom!
OGs like me, that's how we do it! By getting our mid-air foot stuck on a 3-feet tall, 2-dimensional, fake sheep.
Once, I bled on the hard streets of Portsmouth, VA. Literally!
1988. I'm fine and ballin' at some kickball on the cul de sac. Not knowing entirely where to stand, I may or may not have blocked home plate inadvertently by being between it and third.
That's how rebels and B. Asses do it, by not playing by society's "rules."
My head was driven into the black asphalt, lodging two rock fragments into the top of my forehead and streaming blood all over my face. They did remove the pebbles, although my skull, to this day, still has a noticeable indention in it.
The kid who pushed me? Found dead at 18 from either suicide or a deal gone bad. Yea, karma's Bad Ass too, fool!
2011. I need to get some blood work done for my migraines, a physical infliction that only happens to the coolest and most bad ass guys. Per the testing, I need to not eat 12 hours prior, but with my schedule and sleep ability at the time, it worked out to being closer to 16 hours of fasting.
They drew the blood, and just as I'm signing myself out, I wake up on the floor.
Next to the gurney.
Bad Asses don't need gurneys when they faint. The linoleum next to one is suitable enough.
But my true BadAssitude is displayed by my ability to time travel. I went from one moment to 5 minutes later in a second! In that emotionless, robot voice, I can hear Stephen Hawking saying, "What a bad ass."
How can you be a bad ass, you wonder?
Well first, find the right music. That sounds that just gets you going. For me, and most, I'd suggest ABBA. Fernando is a good start, but be careful of Dancing Queen. It's only for intermediate BAs and higher.
Free time activities?
Try maybe some early 20th century sci-fi literature. Olaf Stapledon will turn your ass from good to bad in a nano-second. Or, on a cosmological time-scale, it'll happen in only a million years!
And what to wear?
Something that's comfortable but suitable enough if you have to unexpectedly meet somebody at Outback Steakhouse. This look can be called and referred to as "hobo-chic."
And that's it! You too can have wicked awesome stories like mine if you follow the preceding. And then maybe even you can have a website where you blog.
Totally bad ass!
Stephen is a huge fan of meat flavored potato chips. He is currently cryogenically frozen near Colorado Springs. He has two cats, Jacob and Bella. They are also frozen.