A Question About Superheroes

So what kind of superhero am I? This is an interesting question. Some people like to compare themselves to Superman. I am not sure why, because if I was to push them off a building, I am sure they would not be able to fly.  But people can surprise you. I might compare myself with Spiderman, as with great power, comes great responsibility. Nope that does not fit me either. If it was with great procrastination, comes nothing getting done, which might fit sometimes.

So now comes some hero’s I can relate with the Incredible Hulk. Yup I get pissed and people better run. When I was a bouncer I figured this may be a good fit. Because when I got enraged, there was nothing that could stop me. Though I didn’t quite turn green, and nobody innocent got hurt. Then for a while I could relate to the Punisher. Bad people need to be dealt with. Sometimes the law was unable to help those in need. Though beating up scum and killing people was a quick way to go to jail.

Wow not many superhero’s you can be if you don’t have super powers or deep pockets or a bit touched in the head. So that leaves questionable heroes. I think I fall in this category. When I was a bodyguard and a bouncer, I was nothing more then a hired gun. Literally, the clubs had me around to protect the front door. I was the first line of defense against gun toting bangers who like to raise a ruckus. Nothing more then a junk yard dog that was battered and abused and loyal to his master, I was never appreciated until I was needed. But when I was needed, it felt like I was a super hero, a knight on a white horse, and the gunslinger rolled into one.

One of the more memorable moments from my past consisted of me going to work a little early. It turned out the club owner was throwing a party for some of his friends and some of the employees on the roof of the after hours club we worked at. Of course I was not invited. The club was located in a downtown area mixed in with a bunch of bars. Though we had a large parking lot where all the trouble went down. They get drunk at the bars and we had to clean up the mess.

I was getting dressed and ready for work. This consisted of putting on a bullet proof vest and strapping on my guns. Last thing I put on was my hoodie and I was then ready to set up the club before the night began. I was over an hour early so there was no rush. My manager came running down the stairs screaming my name and the word “gun” over and over again. First thing I thought was “Duh you know I have a gun!” still bitter at not being invited to the stupid party. As I saw her she was pointing out the door, her face was white and she was scared.

I broke through our double doors at a run. There was a large crowd, a few hundred people running towards me scared. As I heard shouts from people saying that guy has a gun. Time to get paid; I drew my pistol from a concealed holster at my waist. The crowd parted as if I was splitting the red sea. Soon I saw the bad guy. When my manager yelled gun, which she saw from the roof of our building she should have yelled hand cannon. That would have described what this banger was waving around. I was about fifteen feet away and had him dead to rights. “Drop the gun!” (Now I have taken away a lot of guns from people this way. But this was the first time a guy did this.) He tossed the very large revolver into a car full of people. He then ran into the crowd of people whom he was point the gun at. As the crowd began to beat him, I was only concerned with the gun. I now pointed my gun at the car and screamed get out of the car, and if I see a gun you will be dead. The passenger in the front seat jumped out of the window and did a belly flop on the floor and then ran away. The passenger in the back seat climbed out the window as well. The driver was left.

Now there have been a lot of stupid people I have dealt with but this idiot was by far top of the list. Instead of getting out of the car, they rolled up the windows. Now this is when my super powers kick in. As the driver bends over, to avoid being shot or reaching for the gun I am not sure. I covered the ten or so feet in what seemed like milliseconds. As my gun and fist hit the window it exploded in a loud noise of shattering glass. Before the driver was able to reach the gun I had him by the shirt and yanked him out of the car. The driver flew backwards out of the broken window like he was filming a scene from a movie. The crowd started to beat him as well. I reached into the car and picked up the 44 Magnum that was on the floorboard.

The crowd began to swirl the tension was rising. It felt like I was in the eye of a hurricane. People were fighting and there I was in the middle with two guns in my hands. Not sure of my next move. As I saw a police officer who was trapped in the crowd as well, I made my way to him. He had his gun out and was ordering people to the ground. I called out and said I was a bouncer and had just taken a gun from one of the guys he had on the ground. I made my way to him where we stood back to back surrounded by people fighting. I notified him that I had guns in my hands. We sat there for what seemed like hours but were only moments. A noise I was familiar with entered my ears. It could not be horses could it? Four mounted police officers entered the crowd! People were screaming and running away. But the mounted police were wasting no time to answer the officer needs of assistance call, that the cop I was with yelled into his radio moments before. I handed the cop the hand cannon I had seized and holstered my weapon as well. The cop thanked me for having his back and explained this was no situation for citizens to get involved in. Then he took me to the side and thanked me again.

The mop up began, as thirty police officers were making the crowd disburse. Two ambulances were lending medical assistance to people that were hurt during the fray. I walked back content that I did a good deed. As I started walking back through the parking lot to the club, people were saying thanks that if I hadn’t been there that guy would have began to shoot everyone. No big deal, just doing my job, is what I said stupidly as I walked back to the club. It wasn’t until I got back to the club that I got a standing ovation from the party on the roof. Even my boss was impressed. All night people talked about how I was a super hero and swooped in and saved everyone.

As with all super hero deeds the next day it was as it never happened. So in a way I feel that I would compare myself to Billy the Kid or Wyatt Earp. Billy the Kid was no hero you say. He was a hero to many. A Robin Hood of sorts, though he did some bad things, he did them for good reasons. Same is said of the Sheriff Wyatt Earp, though some claim he was just a thug hiding behind a badge, he brought law to the Wild West. This reminds me a saying I once heard.

“Congratulations you just met a biker, when we do right, no one remembers. When we do wrong, no one forgets.”

I think that comment can say a lot about my life. I found out there is easier ways to become a super hero. Just throw on some colored long johns and a cape and run around the neighborhood.   

She Found Out My Secret Identy!

So every superhero has a heroine. I am no different. It was 14 years ago when I met my wonderful wife. Though with all relationships ours started off with more stress than most. First we worked together and she was my boss.  Now that might sound sexy, but when you are a bouncer dealing with emotionally charged situations it can be quite stressful afterwards when you get home. Did I mention for the first six years we lived together and worked together 24 hours a day. When I became her boss I thought the stress levels would decrease after all at work I am right regardless. Well at home, not so much!  But let me start at the beginning of this unlikely relationship.

I showed up at a club that some friends owned. My wife was a waitress being trained for a manger position. She hated the fact that I was able to walk into the club and do whatever I wanted like I owned the place.  She hated the fact that none of the managers cared that I hit on the girls, and that I was allowed to help count out at the end of the night to speed everyone along. A job which she was
being taught how to do. In her eyes I was some asshole that needed to go and stay away from her territory.

One day my future wife's car broke and she was forced to walk to work, which did not bother her
as she did not live to far away. Well I got out of work early and headed over to the club. As the end of the night came and I was there flirting with girls and when I struck out, I decided to help count out before going to breakfast.  The owners wife asked if I could run a girl home after count out. It was never a problem so I was more than happy to do it. Who knows maybe this damsel in distress was hot and would  want a knight in shining armor. Hey it could happen I have seen it on TV. So to my surprise it was the angry little pixie who wanted me to die a horrible death for being alive. So my fantasies were quickly dashed. It was even worse that I offered out of the kindness of my heart and this bitch was kicking and screaming and protesting  going with me. In fact she arguing that she would rather walk home in the rain. The owner's wife swore I was a flirt but a good guy none the less, then implied that she had no choice in the matter.  (YEAH FOR ME! A girl was being forced to ride with me. There goes the rest of my self-esteem!)  So this mean spirited pixie sucked it up and
got in my car. She was trying to be polite, so I kept my sharp wit holstered.  So I get her to her house and she offers to buy me breakfast. I declined knowing she wanted nothing to do with me. She insisted that she was honor bound to buy breakfast.  I figured why not what else could go wrong.
So she ran inside and got her boyfriend so all three of us could get a bite to eat at Denny's , the world's worst restaurant.

So as she comes running back in the rain with her boyfriend, I realized, yes it can get worse. Not only do I know her boyfriend but I think he is the biggest waste of flesh on god's green earth. This is going to be a horrible night, but hopefully I can get through it without beating his ass. It is bad form to kick the living hell out of the boyfriend of the girl buying breakfast. Though it would be a favor to humanity and would make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. So thinking about this made me happy.

As we sit down at Denny's we start talking. The boyfriend is playing a pissing contest with me. At one point you I felt that he was going to want to measure each other's manhood to see who the bigger man was. Every comment he made I shut down. Situations he spoke of, I was there and it did not go the way he said. It is hard to be a bad ass boyfriend with a guy at the table who is holding himself back from kicking the shit out of you.  As I told stories he was trying to fit the whole meal he had order in his mouth at one time. (Did this man know how to chew food? Has he ever ate in public? This was gross! I should beat him now, before he gets a second attempt at eating.) Instead I of eating him now I felt sorry for this poor little punk rock pixie. Was she so down on herself that this was the best she thought she could do. No wonder she is such a bitch, look what she has to live with. I noticed she was staring at me intently as I told bouncer stories, and tales of my adventures.  It was almost as she forgot about her boyfriend, who was giving me his best evil stare as the crumbs of food feel from his open maw.  After everything I took them home.

A few weeks later I was let go from my job. Amazingly enough it was for being accused of doing something that I didn't do. But me and the owner of that club were not getting along for a while and it was time to move on. So I went to my friend who hired me that moment. I started the next day.
Sitting down at my position I called the bar and asked for a soda.  As the waitress made her rounds, she finally got to me. To her horror and my surprise it was that little pixie girl, in a very cute outfit I may add.  She nearly spilled my drink on me as she was trying to spit out the words "What the hell are you doing here?" I smiled at her and gave her a tip and continued working ignoring her question. Bouncers generally were too cheap to tip the waitresses but I knew how it worked if you wanted good service you tipped.

New bouncers at a strip club are like fresh meat in a lion's den. The girls are eager to see who gets first bite.  I knew this game as I worked at this club once before. The owner had strict rules no dating! But I knew if I flirted and suggested that I would be interested in doing things outside the club, I got
really good tips.  Well I noticed that cute pixie rubbing her shoulder. I offered to rub out the knot she had. In doing so I found out that she was sensitive to my touch. In fact she became very flustered around me and started spilling drinks and having problems talking. Though she spent a lot of time near my posts. I enjoyed the company and it helped fend off some of the scarier and predatory strippers.

In walks to owners wife and tells me to take that cute little pixie to breakfast. I inquired about the owner's rule. The answer came back with I am the owner's wife and I make the rules. I said sure I will ask her. The pixie didn't even let me finish the statement before saying yes. 

So it turned out that we had a lot in common.  She had been married for a few years. She had gone to many places I had worked for five years before we finally met.  So after a week or so of sleeping with each other she realized something.  She had gone to a nightclub with some friends and they were outside debating if they were going to come in when some asshole bouncer came out and screamed at her. She vowed that if she ever saw that asshole again she would give him a piece of
her mind. To her surprise she had just slept with him.  After she was done hitting me and yelling at
me we had a good laugh.

A few weeks later a second large surprise happened. She found out she was pregnant. This was impossible because the doctors said she could not have a child plus she was on birth control. Not to mention I always used birth control as well.  First doctor had the conception date wrong. So she did the noble thing and gave me flowers while having two bouncers stand guard over her as she broke up with me.  I explained I was on this roller coaster ride, and had no intention of getting off. If it got to scary, I would tell her.  It wasn't till the next appointment that we saw the ultrasound and the doctor confirmed D was my son.

We now had to come out publically in the club that we were an item. There went my good tips. It was nice because I never had a girlfriend before. Or at least one that lasted more than a week or two. (Suggestion: Try a normal girl first - Pregnant girls are a bit tricky to understand!) For the
next nine months my lovely expanding pixie had broken up with me every day.

I guess after nine months of her breaking up with me, she gave up and realized I wasn't going anywhere. After my son was born we became inseparable.The three amigos  against the world.  Shortly after my son was born, we got married but that is a story for another day!

Usually when asked how I got so lucky to have married such a wonderful woman. I simply reply I clubbed her over the head and drug her back to my cave. UG UG SHE IS MINE NOW!

Though quietly in my thoughts as I think of my wife, I can not think of life without my little punk rock pixie. I know that the closet I will ever get to heaven is knowing that I married an Angel!

Nemesis or Sidekick?

Let me introduce to you my son D. My son who is currently 13 years-old he has not decided if he wants to be my sidekick or my nemesis. It has been too many years for me to remember what it was like being 13. But I don’t remember seeing if I can push my dad into an early grave. Have you ever had a situation where you are telling your child they are grounded and they tell you “NO!”  What the hell do you mean NO! This is not a yes or no question; I may also add this is not multiple choices either. There is no negations you did the crime now do the time. This is where the Homer Simpson way of parenting looks appealing. Will I really get in trouble if I reach across the table and strangle him? So the other day I yelled at my son for playing a video game that he was grounded from playing. His reply to me was calm and quiet (A new method for him. It works and drives me crazy!) “Why do you get to yell at me and make the rules?” he goes on to explain that I had no right to ground him from video games and that he will clean his room when he wants too. Yes this is the point where I can feel my heartbeat in my eyeballs. Luckily for my son he must have noticed my super powers kicking in. (The veins popped out of my head and it must have looked like I was going to change into the Incredible Hulk, but instead of green I was going to be red or more of a plum color. I am pretty sure all parents of teenagers have this super power.) His resolve crumbled as I took a deep intake of breath and set my blood red eyes on him and began to speak in a slow and quiet voice. Before I finished my statement about him going to his room, he had began to shake and decided he was tired and was ready for bed anyway.

But not all things are bad with having a 13 year-old. He is my greatest fan. He believes there is noting I can’t do. He is very supportive with me going back to school. He strokes my ego by telling me my ideas at the dinner table are wonderful.

 It takes me back to the days when he was just a lad. He must have been about five; my son and I were off to the computer store, lunch, and then grandma’s house. After that I was going to go to the shooting range with some friends. So at the computer store, I was talking with the manager about how he feels it was ok to try to screw me over. (Some work equipment was stolen by the store, and they clamed it was never there.) So as I started to talk in a not so pleasant voice, with the manager. My son honed in that his daddy was upset and decided to kick the glass cabinet in front of the manager and give him the nastiest look I have ever seen to this day. The manager must have got the idea that my son was going to lay waste to the store unless he complied. So the manager went back and found what I was saying they had. Amazing! This was going pretty good. Just for the outstanding job my son did on shaking down the computer store manager. I decided to take him to Hooters for lunch. We went there often so I could recruit waitress to work for me at the club, and my son really enjoyed the fries. To my surprise, he was picking up on the waitress. Ok not really, but he had several of the waitresses flocking around the table as he put on a show of cuteness. So Hooters turned out to be a lot of fun and now one quick stop at a gas station and off to Grandma’s! As we are going to Grandma’s, I ran a yellow light. (YES OFFICER, IT WAS YELLOW AND YOUR COLORBLIND!) In Rio Rancho, New Mexico the police are very proud of their jobs. I do believe that Jay Walking has been eliminated from the city. Or is it that Jay Walkers are eliminated by the Swat Team. I get those confused some time. Needless to say the police are excited when someone breaks the law.  Today I was that special person. As the cop approached my vehicle with his hand on his gun, I began to think we might be in trouble for shaking down the computer store manager. Boy, would I be in trouble with my wife had I got arrested with my son for that!  I shook off the notion of how my wife would kill me. The officer asked for my driver’s license and explained that do I have a habit of running red lights with cops behind me. Once he was out of earshot, my comments lashed out a reply. The cop came back and said that he was going to give me a warning. This truly was a wonderful day. Then I heard words that would make this joyous occasion come to a quick end. My son thinking that the cop had threatened me, he decided to speak. He asked why I did not just shoot the police officer with one of my guns, so we can get to Grandma’s quicker! As the young cocky police officer heard this, all the color left his face as he reached for his side arm while screaming into his radio officer needs assistance.  As the gun was pointed at my head, the officer’s high pitched voice told me to get out of the truck. He also ordered me not to move. So I just sat there with my hands out the window. Did I mention I got pulled over about a block from the police station? Within a minute my truck was surrounded with ten or more police cars. My son enjoying all the noises and lights, not understanding the situation is laughing and was having a good old time in his car seat. As more police officers level guns off at me. I become defensive of my son being in the car and explain loudly that if officer numb nuts would calm down and quit shaking and decide if he wants me out of the truck or not to move we can move forward as I have done nothing wrong. (Running a yellow light is not a crime!) A tactical officer took control of the situation. I assume he was the tactical officer as he had a very big gun. He allowed me to exit the truck, so I can be slammed up against it and violated. My son did not like seeing this from his car seat as he began to cry. My life flashed before my eyes, as I saw an officer point his gun towards the back seat. I stepped into his line of fire and hoped he understood why. As the cops finished searching me and I explained the situation and said yes I did have guns in the vehicle and explained why. They ran a few of my guns to make sure they were not stolen. Then after about two hours we allowed to continue on to Grandma’s house.

 My son entered Grandma’s house bragging about how he had the best day ever. As he explained about eating at Hooter’s and that he got to see a bunch of police officers with guns, and flashing lights. The color drained from my very religious mother-in-law face and an expression of horror appeared in her face as my son continued with his story. The expression my mother-in-law had put a big smile to my face though.

Flash back to a few weeks ago. My parents take my son to get a haircut before school. The lady cutting his hair must have loved the band The Monkeys, because she gave D a haircut to match the band. My son confided with me that he hated his haircut. He did not want to hurt Grandma and Grandpa’s feelings. He felt like a dork and needed his super hero daddy. As I put on my straight jacket and cape. Ok I just grabbed the car keys and told him to get in the truck we drove to a different hair cut place. As punk rock music blasted out of my car’s speakers, I asked my son what type of hair cut he wanted. He expressed with a smile bigger then the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland, he wanted a Mohawk. So that is what I got him. Grandma and Grandpa hate it, so when we go out to dinner I make sure my son has it up, so his grandparents can see all the attention it gets him. As well as how happy it makes him. I don’t mind fighting with my parents for my son’s happiness. We were very lucky that his mom likes the Mohawk.

I love him dearly and wish he would go easy on my heart. I am scared that the teenage years just started! I wonder if I will have the strength to deal with the future situations of the terrible teenage years!

Every Super Hero Has Their Kryptonite

Every Super Hero has a weakness. Normally they do not share this weakness, but what type of blog would this be if I did not share.

My weakness has eight legs and crawls. That is right when a spider comes near me I transform into a little girl and scream. It is a horrible weakness.

I guess it all started when I was about five years-old. Back when I drank out of water spigots. I felt something go into my mouth, as I opened my mouth a big brown hairy spider walked out of my mouth and over my eye and into my hair. After doing that type of dance you do when you are creeped out trying to get a bug off you, I went home and threw myself into the pool.

Many years and many nightmares about those nasty eight legged freaks have gone by and I felt that I was beginning to overcome my weakness. I could actually see a spider without screaming. By now I was a bodyguard. Macho man as some may say. I had a bulletproof jacket and carried a gun and had a
nasty reputation. I was feared by some and I feared no one. So when I had to go pick up my future wife at her parents house, I did not expect to run into my old nemesis.

I had my shoes off for some reason and had to go out to my car. While walking back to the front door my nemesis decided to spring her trap. There in the middle of the walkway to the house was the biggest wolf spider I had ever seen. Her smile taunting me and bringing back my childhood nightmares. But I was ready I springed over her head and landed on the other side of her closer
to the door. As I ran into the house, I grabbed a shoe and sprung back out the door to do battle. I was not going to show my weakness. As my size 10 Nike struck my opponent the unthinkable happened. Really I did not think this would happen. The spider exploded into may smaller spiders. [ Piece of useful information. A wolf spider carries her babies on her back. Without looking closely you
would never notice. But after hitting them with a shoe, you notice very quickly] So now I was surrounded by lots of spiders. Even though I let out a squeal of terror, I was not ready to give up. I dashed back into the house and prepared for battle. [No I did not grab my gun] I grabbed a can of Lysol and a lighter.  As I returned to the patio with my improvised flame thrower, I was hearing the pops and crackles of the little spiders running at me. As I layed down a two foot perimeter of flames I felt this battle was mine. But then the tide turned as the mother spider rushed my flame. As her body caught fire, along with the trim of the house that belonged to my wife's parents, the spider kept running at me. I sounded a retreat with a high pitched squeal of fear. As this burning spider came rushing me.  Just as I saw my life flash before my eyes, I was saved by a fearless hero. Ok my soon to be sister-in-law who was sixteen at the time, walked out the door and rolled her eyes as she stepped
on the flaming devil spider. She put an end to the evil spider without any struggle, leaving a smell of wet nail polish in the air. She was my hero! I quickly hosed off the evidence of the battle from the front walkway. The only thing that was left of the battle was a charred piece of trim connected to the house. Which I was hoping no one would ever notice.

My son has been a crucial part of helping me with my arachnophobia. When he was four years old he took all of his plastic spiders and put them in my bed.  <deep intake of breath> So there I was getting into my waterbed after a long night of work. As I slipped my tired body under the covers, I knew something was wrong. As my wife was tossed free from the bed by the wave that was created by me springing from the bed like an Olympic gymnast, the neighbors must have been woken by the primal scream emanating from my house. < a glass or two may have broken from the high pitch of said primal scream> Once I figured out everything was ok, the intruders in my bed were actually plastic toys that were quickly removed, I was able to apologize to my wife and allow her to go back to sleep. I crawled into bed fearful of evil spiders lurking around the corner. As the adrenaline ebbed away and
my eyes started to close. I stretched out and got comfortable. I put my hand under the pillow and found a big gel filled spider that felt hairy. My heart stopped as I tried to scream. My mouth was open yet no noise was coming out. Again my wife was thrown to the ground by the tidal wave
left from my quick departure of the waterbed. I turned the lights on and inspected the bed pulling off all the sheets and pillowcases. The pile of plastic spiders was growing. How did my son get so many toy spiders I wondered. Oh yeah my dumbass had bought them for him when he asked for him.
As I threatened the pile of plastic with an impending meeting with a flammable substance and a match. I allowed my wife to yet again go to sleep. I laid in bed having thoughts of creepy crawlies. The next morning while talking to my son about how wrong he was. All I got was laughter and a
mischievous smile of satisfaction.

My son is now thirteen and not a day goes by without him saying something about spiders. I may not have overcome my fear of spiders. But my son has worn me down to where the reaction is less dramatic. The good news is that my son has now created a healthy fear of spiders for himself.  So when the creepy crawlers come. It is my son's high pitched squeal you hear instead of mine.

A Story has to have a begining.

I bet you are wondering why Straight Jacket Super Hero? Well so am I. Actually my wife and a few friends have been suggesting I write a book with some of the things that has happen in my life. I considered it and realized something very important, thats way too much work for me.

So after a some carefully phrased words from my wife. I have decided to write a blog. My son and wife honestly think I am a super hero. Oddly it is not because I walk around in public in my underware. No really I don't do that. HONEST! Jeez if you guys are going to be like that I won't continue. Ok, so there is nothing I can not do according to my family. According to my brother, there is nothing I can do right, but I am the good son, so it doesn't matter what he says.

I have a habit of getting myself in situations that some people find very funny. Sometimes I live a life of adventure. Other times I live life like a thirty-something year old locked away in his lair. No I do not play World of Warcraft......anymore. At one time in my life I was a bouncer and a bodyguard, now I am married with a teenager and my body just bounces. Ok kinda jiggles. Fine I am overweight, but I am working on getting back in shape.

What do people write about on blogs? Well if you want to read that dribble feel free to go read their blogs. Also if you are expecting a well written blog, with no grammar issues, and no spelling errors. You may also want to move on to someone elses blog. Adult blog? Yes it is! I am an adult and I may post pictures that are not for young audiences. Ohhh yeah and my wife says I have a potty mouth and can't be trusted to keep it clean.

I guess this is as good of a begining as one can expect. I look forward to rambling on about life and it's wonderful surprises.