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Making your bones.

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Have you made your bones?

Yes
6
67%
No
3
33%
 
Total votes : 9

Making your bones.

Postby Wilbur Kookmeyer » Tue Nov 28, 2006 9:30 pm

I learned at a young age how to make my bones.

The youngest of 4 boys, you had to fight for everything. Sometimes just to get some peace.

Also had to learn to be crafty, strategic, but that is another story.

Here to talk about making your bones.

So I learned when I was young..... to fight.

The first fight did not turn out so well. Got my nose bloodied by a one armed kid. True story man. None truer.

But it was not long before my bones were made. Piled a few up in the graveyard of my days.

When I was in the military I was taught how to make my bones for what I was trained to do. The reasoning did not need to be more complex than simply that was what my orders would be. Matter of fact, no other logic was to be thought. Period. So I was prepared to make my bones. Still am. But luckily I have yet to be told.

If you have made your bones, you know what I am speaking of. If not, well then this is just more of Wilbur's gibberish.

I was called on to make my bones the other day.

Been a boss long enough, but was yet pushed to making them. Sure, I have flexed and I have lead, I have taught, and I have punished. But I had yet to truly make my bones.

I took a man down man. Not an easy target. Not a decision I would have wanted. I feel like I failed in leading him, but I guess some are not born to be led.

So I made my bones.

They all look at me differently now.

Maybe it is how I see myself.

Looking back through the bones in my personal yard, I remember the walking tall of bones laid before.

Not proud though.

But they all do look at me differently now.

Add them to the pile I guess.
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Postby thurgood jenkins » Tue Nov 28, 2006 10:55 pm

On second thought, no, this ones too easy... :lol:
So, is there any tread left on the tires? Or at this point would it be like throwing a hot dog down a hallway?

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Postby The Betty » Tue Nov 28, 2006 11:38 pm

I think I get it, is this about fighting? I read it a couple times trying to be sure.

Ive always hated fighting. I like to be a lady (when Im in public). Ive had a couple encounters, and always been good of keeping cool. I have a way of making a girl who is coming at me with violence look like a derilict. Throwing their hands around, shaking their head back and forth and cursing at me about "their", or "their" slutty friend I "accidentally" tripped. Stupid things to fight about.

Id fight for my children, but not in front of them. I would never fight for money, men or pride.

Unless you touch my hair. Then Ill rip your f*cking face off. If my hair is pulled in any way that is not sexual your life will end.

Sorry wilb if I misinterpreted the point of this thread.
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Postby Doc » Tue Nov 28, 2006 11:38 pm

Everything's easy...

You'll understand that one day...maybe.

Mine came in 7th grade...

When it came my turn to be ritualistically stuffed into a garbage can by 9th graders...

I was surrounded...sized up the situation and picked the only dude I knew...albeit remotely.

I popped him (suckered perhaps) in the nose, drawing blood and set up for my defense...again 7th against 9th, I wasn't small but he was much bigger...

He also was the wrestling coaches son and I soon found myself face down in the dirt and was forced to literally say "Uncle"...

He let me up and I immediately made it clear that whoever came next would also get some...

They moved on to easier prey...

Whether or not that was a determining factor, I don't know...but I never got hassled again through High School aside from a few scrapes that were by choice...

As far as adult scraps go...I usually am able to avoid them although I did once choke into unconsciousness a defensive end for U of O in a bar fight...

That was good times.

doc
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Postby The Betty » Tue Nov 28, 2006 11:43 pm

Sorry wilb if I misinterpreted the point of this thread.


you guys and your stupid word defaults! Some of them just dont work.

I like how the word m*n becomes invisible though. That one makes sense in any use.
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Postby Fish » Tue Nov 28, 2006 11:54 pm

I usually hand my bones over to someone else.

6 yrs old, faught the big neighborhood dummy kid. Draw. We became good pals because of it and he went on to be a lawyer.

6 yrs old, called Kelly Whitehead a pimple head. She kicked my arse.

7 th grade Chris Quinn. Slug fest, finally brought him down and got on top of him. stopped before I bloodied his face. we were both tired.

college bar fight with 300 pound coke head and skinny tall coke head. skinny coke head got one in and I lost a pair of glasses.

But as for bones like Wilb's means, I've never been put in that situation or had that kind of influence.

Does torturing the special ed kids when I was in 2nd grade and they were in 8th and much much bigger than me and complete phalluses that needed to be put in their place count?
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Postby gills » Wed Nov 29, 2006 9:04 am

drinking lots of milk as a child helped make my bones.
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Postby Wilbur Kookmeyer » Wed Nov 29, 2006 11:18 am

Not really about fighting. That is one pile of bones.

Had to fire somebody.

It weighs on me a bit.

Many ways and places that bones must be made, just had not yet had to deal with that.

Grew another chest hair likely.
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Postby stinkbug » Wed Nov 29, 2006 12:39 pm

I've been in that boneyard. Sometimes it's ugly. Some guys will just keep goading you, hoping for something to happen, because they won't quit.

The most exciting one: I had a guy goading and challenging me for a while. I didn't step up, and things got worse. Finally it blew up and I fired him. Then I had to go get a coffee and calm down, it was that ugly...

Right after I left, fired dude comes back in the trailer office with a pistol. He told the clerk "I was thinking about doing the whole disgruntled employee thing, where's (stinkbug) at..." The clerk was cool, she told him "he's not worth it" and got the guy settled down. He apparently agreed that I wasn't worth it and left. Never saw him again, but I was looking over my shoulder for a while.

Trying to salvage a lost cause always makes it worse. But I almost always do it. 'Cause I'm a dumb a** that won't learn.
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Postby Gazsurf » Wed Nov 29, 2006 3:40 pm

Wilbur Kookmeyer wrote:Not really about fighting. That is one pile of bones.

Had to fire somebody.

It weighs on me a bit.

Many ways and places that bones must be made, just had not yet had to deal with that.

Grew another chest hair likely.


Will you stop being obtuse, you're killing me man, I thought you punched out somebody in the meat cooler, then walked back to your office while the stunned co-workers stood there and stared!! Reminded me of Stallone in Rocky working over the hanging carcass!

Stop it!
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Postby XBlueSilverX » Wed Nov 29, 2006 5:12 pm

i lost count. after awhile it's just a part of life. we may be sophisticated beings, but it's still survival of the fittest.
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Postby Wilbur Kookmeyer » Wed Nov 29, 2006 6:18 pm

LOL! Sorry about being obtuse there Gaz... :lol:

Though I like the thought of being all bloody knuckled from hammering on a halibut hanging in the cooler....

Yeah BS...survival and all. This guy was a long time guy. Double digit years. As a manager, a leader, I find it difficult to give up on some one.
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Postby Doc » Wed Nov 29, 2006 9:12 pm

I have fired so many people I have lost count...

The majority of them simply cannot follow simple rules...

But I have also fired good friends for being idiots...

Usually, but not always, alcohol was involved...

As a matter of fact I have to fire 2 assistant managers tomorrow...

Good times...

doc
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Postby The Betty » Wed Nov 29, 2006 10:16 pm

Since Im extremely picky and hire on sexism alone, most of the guys who work for me are top notch foxeys. Therefore I cannot be held responsible for firing. Why would I let them go for effing up when I hired them for looks? I learned to give that responsibility to someone with more professional skill a long time ago.
The Betty
 

Postby guppy » Wed Nov 29, 2006 11:52 pm

I'm gonna make my bones with my brother sometime soon...

He's 5 years senior and relentlessly tortured me and beat me, like an older brother does...

I battled fiercely and developed what I like to call "Little Brother Warfare"...

I'd wait for the most oportune time to sucker punch him and then run...

As I got older the stakes started to get higher and I would use rocks, hammers, knives, etc...

Now I'm 32 and he's 37 and I'm just watching and waiting for him to mess up so I can thump him...

Something I don't want to do... but have to!

Gonna make my bones.
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