Duba vs. Duda

Wrestling is a great sport. It is a gut checking six minute sprint for your survival as some sweaty dude tries to tear your head off. I know it may be hard to imagine, but while you're wrestling there is no sound, you can not hear your coach or the screaming fans or even your own breath. Nobody would doubt most of wrestling is in your head, you have to suck it up and go or you end up ass in the air in front of your family and friends, wiggling and squirming like a dying fish, and that is not pretty.
Intimidation is also a huge part of wrestling and it all starts at the weigh in. Imagine a bunch of anorexic men stripped naked standing on a scale while everyone on both teams watches...every chubby girl's worst nightmare. One team is in one locker room or at one end of a big locker room and the other team is elsewhere with the scale being in the middle so everyone can see. The usual routine is to start with the 103 lbs weight class and work your way up through the heavyweight. It goes something like this... "Okay 103 for Cinnaminson, Sal Simmonetti" and Sal would drop his drawers and get on the scale, make weight, and proceed to eat the first food he has had probably all day. The official or coach would then say "Okay, 103 for Delran, Jim Favorite" and the opponent would go through the same thing. You always take a good look at your opponent because its not hard to tell who is a scrub and who is going to be a challenge. All the while the entire room stinks like dirty dudes, tobacco spit, and ass, and now that I think about it, is probably the weirdest situation I have ever been in.
We at Cinnaminson hate Delran, our arch rivals. Delran is just like Cinnaminson, think Springfield to Shellbyville, and there are many, many stories of why we disliked each other to such an extent. Our match was at Delran that night, which smells even worse than any bad smell you can imagine, like super ass. Dirty Bears.
Jim Duba was our 135 lbs wrestler. Just as described above, the Delran coach goes "135 for Cinnaminson...Jim Duba" and Duba makes a deliberate move for the scale, only to be beat to it by some pudgy white kid. Duba is like "HUH?", cause you never screw around in weigh ins and he knows our coach would freakin kill him for any unusual activity, even if it wasn't his fault. So now this other kid is standing on the scale and the Delran coach looks at the lineup on the paper he is holding and goes "No, I said Jim Duba, not Jim Duda" and we loose it. This freakin kid, at the same exact weight class, has the same name but for one "D"! Duba's eyes light up, he was waiting for that day all his life.
As it turned out, they both have the same middle name also, making it James Andrew Duba vs. James Andrew Duda. While this was a surprise to the rest of us, who couldn't stop laughing (even our hard ass coach was cracking up), Duba knew of Duda. Duba proceeds to tells us that everytime he goes to the doctor's office, they always pull Duda's file and that even at birth they got their birth certificates mixed up. Yup, they were born only days apart! Duba had never met this kid, but had despised him all his life, and now they had to wrestle.
Another wrestling tradition is to have the teams line up on the edge of the mat and be introduced, run out to center, and shake their opponent's hand. The announcer goes, in an excited amateur announcer voice "AND FOR CINNAMINSON, AT 135, JIM DUBA... AND FOR DELRAN...wait, is this right, they have the same name?" all out loud and the crowd starts laughing. Ahh, it was classic.
So Duba and Duda wrestle, and Duba kicked his ass. I forget the score, you would have to find Larry Rooney for that, but I know he whipped him good, got him back for a life time of saying, "No No No, I'm Jim Duba, not Jim Duda.

Stay tuned

Soon I will be presenting "The Duba Series", a collection of blogs about the antics of our good friend Jim Duba. Probable topics include, but are not limited to...

Duba vs. Duda
New Jersey's record holder for the shortest discus throw
Duba vs. inanimate objects
The Red Barron
Duba vs. Foxie and the great New Years eating contest
Free Lovin'
Fat Batman (also starring Delran's own Dave Bell)

If I was Earnest Hemmingway, these would be the greatest stories your eyes have ever read. However, I am not Earnest Hemmingway, I am Jim Robinson, so we will see how this goes. It is important to remember that every word I say is the absolute truth, no names will be changed to protect anyone, and may God himself have mercy on your souls, bitches.

What's wrong with me?

Seriously, I think something is wrong with me. I guess I shouldn't be writing this for all to see, but here it goes (this should go on the complaint department).
I apparently suck at real life. Send me to school and I'm golden. Tell me to learn four chapters of a book and I'll rock it out. Give me As or Cs, whatever, I don't care, but give me a job, one where I'm my own boss even and make my own rules and I am the worst. I hate it, and the thing about it is I love what I do, but I hate the concept of working. I guess that's the problem, its not like I don't like this job in particular, there is nothing else I'd rather do, its that I don't want to do anything. And when I was not doing anything a few months ago, I got to hate that too! AHHHHHHHHH, will I never be content? I have the worst case of "the grass is always greener" syndrome. I always want to be doing something different, but once I start I'm like, "this sucks" and start looking for something else. I wish I could just stick to one thing, commit, and be satisfied. I wish I liked developing my skills at this job like I love developing my music skills, my intellegence, and my personal relationships, but I don't.
Complaint #2
For some reason I have become too self conscious. Out of no where I have stopped liking to talk to new people and I apparently hate selling things to people. I have done karyoke in front of 100s of people. I have gotten up on stage and sang and played my guitar with absolutely nothing holding me back in front of a lot of people. I would talk in front of my class of 130 with no problem, never minded public speaking, and never, ever cared what anyone thought of me. Now that I have to do it for a living, I suck, I'm all like ummmmm aaahhhh ohhhhhhh. Every word the majority of people I meet speak is so boring I find myself struggling to care. Its not everyone, I have some patients that can carry the string theory/early American literature/David Hume's philosophy conversations, but these are few and far between.
Complaint #3
I am a snob, mostly for the end of the last reason. If someone can't say something interesting, I automatically judge them, thus making me a huge snob. What sucks the most is that I know I do it and can't seem to change.

This is me getting this crap of my chest, I am taking full responsibility of my downfalls and need to change. Lord help me, it is going to be a long struggle.