Day 32: Kenpo X.

I would go to a Kenpo X party. Twister, Pictionary, Spin-the-Bottle, Flip-Cup, Midget-Lesbian-KY-Jelly Wrestling: none of this would be as fun as Kenpo. I love watching Kung-Fu films; we all do (or at least should if we consider ourselves good, respectable people). Kenpo X has all the glory, ass-kickery, and martial arts wizardry of a Kung-Fu film, except you are Bruce Lee, you are the nimble, powerful purveyor of beat-downs and flying Karate chops. It's like you're a kid again, in your backyard, with your mom's hot-pink bedazzled belt tied around your head beating the hell out of imaginary henchmen. It can be anyone or anything. Today, we beat up Republican Nazi-Zombies. It was a bloodbath of Rambo-trilogy proportions. They never stood a chance against us. My swift, powerful and devastating upper-cuts and side-kicks coupled with Millard's confidence-obliterating, rabbit-cough-death-scream, creates an unstoppably dynamic duo of destruction. In short, if you are immature and lucky enough to have an equally immature buddy, this exercise is quite simply 'the shit'.

I don't see how I could have more fun at a party. I could be orgasming all over newly-minted 18-year old sorority girls while the ghost of Kurt Cobain injected me with high-grade bolivian black-tar heroine as I bite down into a piping-hot Veal Parmigian sandwich imported from Sicily, all the while listening to Neil Young play 'Old Man' in the corner of the room, and it might not even compare.* (OK, that might stack up, but it'd be a photo-finish).

Highlights: 12 million dead Republican Nazi-Zombies.

State of Mind: A place of calm, relaxed, murderous trascendentalism.

Rating: P90x!

*A lot has been said about "going to your happy place". We've seen it in Bill Madison and we've seen a variety of therapists, hypnotists and hippies suggest it. It often involves a sunny beach and frolicking. This is my ultimate 'happy place'. If I could train myself to visit this place, no horrible event in my life would be insurmountable. You could ram a hydraulic-powered steel umbrella in my rectum and flip it on, and I'd still be ok.