I’m sitting in the lobby of the LifeChurch.tv OKC campus, preparing for my second stint as the one and only Bigfoot. It’ll be significantly different than my experience last week, mainly because this time I’ve been asked to walk outside among the parking lots, and it’s something like 38 degrees (F) out there.

Yeah. I’m about to freeze my furry bald butt off.

I’m slightly prepared, though… I have on two layers of t-shirts, brought some wool socks and mittens to wear under the gorilla gloves, and I’ll have a knit cap on my head. Lord only knows if it’ll be sufficient enough to keep my leg hairs from curling in the cold, but we’ll find out.

I’m trying to figure out what else I can write about. Perhaps an update on life?

Kim’s still pregnant, preparing for the big day in late April. We’re still not finding out the gender until the kid pops out, but we’re slowly narrowing down our list of names. I’ve had a dream that it was a girl, but I also feel like God whispered a boy’s name to me one day, so I’m all kinds of confused on what we’re having. (With Kyler I dreamt I received a call from God, telling me Kim was pregnant. And this was a month before we even found out she WAS pregnant!) So, needless to say, I take a lot of stock in my dreams…

Whoops. If you’ll please excuse me, they’ve installed a new foosball table here in the lobby, and I see two grade-schoolers I’d like to stomp on it.

(15 Minutes Later…)

Spanking accomplished. I’ve discovered I’m not that great of a teacher when it comes to foosball. Not that I wouldn’t love to teach what I know, but when I find myself playing someone younger than I, I’m not inclined to “throw the game” and let them win. I play like I always do: all out. To win. To inflict emotional pain and turmoil in the opponent who dared to think they could conquer me and my mad skillz.

Granted, in this situation I pretty much injected myself into a group and beat the snot out of them. Come to think of it, it’s not unlike what a bully does on the school playground. Is that what I’ve become? A foosball bully? Man, I never thought of it that way. Me? A bully?

Sweet.

Nah, just kidding. But it’s an interesting transition, from being the small runt of an adult at 5’6″ to the Big Kahuna at the table.

Since I’m talking about foosball, it’s only proper to give props to the two opponents who have given me a consistently competitive game: Eric and Nate.

When Nate Briley came back from Indonesia back in 2001, he lived with Kim and I (or with Greg) for a few weeks. I only had a cheap, beat-up table at the time that I snagged on eBay, but it was enough to get our adrenaline flowing. After beating him every single game we played, I decided it was time to give him a goal, so I told him I’d pay him $10 if he EVER beat me.

Three games later, he did. 9 to 10. And then he beat me again, and again, and suddenly I was hoping he’d give me the same offer so I could get my money back. And now? Well, even though it’s been years since we’ve played, I’m sure he’d still be able to throw down just as ferociously as he did back then. (You just don’t forget how to slap someone around at foosball, no matter how long it’s been…)

My brother, Eric, is the other worthy contender. Aside from Nate, Eric is the only guy who can beat me and make it look like he’s not even trying. No sweat, no tantrums, no painful screams (at least, not in the first few games…). Just cool, level-headed engineer Eric. He is quite the player, and I can’t help but think having your own quality, full-sized foosball table in your basement might help build up your bag of tricks over the years.

And I think that’s all for now. Wow. I wrote a lot. Here I was just killing time until I donned the suit, but I actually had a lot to say. Or at least a lot to ramble about. Hope you guys enjoyed it!

Kevin