LIFE OF MY STORY

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Someone named Paul Ling left a comment on Omar’s Short, Business Class. The comment read something along the lines of, “Interesting content. I’d like to discuss something. Call me. Paul Ling.” Below this message, Paul left his phone, fax and email, which was a Goldman Sach’s email. Could this be someone who believes Life Of My Story has investment potential? I couldn’t resist calling, but expected an automated message urging me to try new skin cream. I couldn’t have been more incorrect as to what I was expecting and what I actually got. Here is the following conversation I had with the person on the other end:

Me - Hello, my name is Ryan Wetter and I think you left a comment on my website with this number?

Him - Websites? A’int nobody messin’ round on no motha-fuckin’ websites.

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Me - Is Paul Ling there?

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Thank you for whoever posted that comment. I was expecting a recorded advertisement at best. But you actually included a phone number for what sounds like an angry, older gentleman. This deserves a Clay Davis. Websites? A’int nobody messin’ round on no motha fuckin’ websites. Sheeeettttt!

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There’s this guy at the gym. At first glance, he looks like a typical douche. Good-looking, tan & is constantly making conversations. When he’s not running for mayor, you can find him in the boxing section, hitting the speed bag for hours on end. “What’s his story?” I asked a friend of mine. I pictured him tanning after his workout. He flirts with the girl at the salon and takes her out to a rave on Saturday night. On Sundays, he gets together with a large extended family. He and his fellow kin dance to house music while waving glow sticks and drinking Rebull. I couldn’t have been more wrong. “That’s Speed Bag Scissorhands,” my friend said. “Speed Bag who?” I asked. “Yeah, Speed Bag Scissorhands. He has a website.” It was impossible to resist the urge. Speedbagscissorhands.com. This was not a gym-douche. This was something special. This man, who in my eyes was nothing more than your typical gym-tool just last week, is now my biggest hero.

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I’m not a martial artist, but I feel confident in my ability to spot a faker.  There I was at the gym doing a little stretch when this anus started to pay tribute to Ralph Macchio.  With two different shoes and the body-type of a 12 year old girl, this guy wasn’t fooling anyone.  He is the gym ninja… master of his own imagination.