I'm Legal!

Alright, if the traffic of MTX didn’t just quadruple because of that little creeper-magnet, I’m all out of ideas. As indicated, I’m finally above age. Wednesday was my 21st birthday and I’m more excited about being able to go out to watch TUF at a bar with friends than anything else.

I spent the week after ADCC managing to find twelve times more photos of my arm being hyperextended by Sayaka than I did of defeating either Laurence or Megumi, but what can you do? Karma’s a bitch!

I’ve never been into drinking, and I’m not exactly what you’d call a club-hopper, so I expected little out of my birthday. Normally I haven’t gotten many “happy birthday!” wishes nor party participators because I spent the majority of time in school and sports and not socializing. Well, the past year wasn’t normal. I spanned over 25 cities in three countries just training and competing jiu jitsu, and meeting as many wonderful people as I could remember or add to social networking sites. After spending from 8AM-1PM in my classes, I peeked at my Facebook and Orkut (like Brazilian Facebook) to see if anyone had remembered. I was shocked. Four-hundred-something “Happy Birthday!” wishes were waiting for me in varying languages from people all around the world, the vast majority being people I only know through a single brief encounter spanning everywhere I’ve stepped foot. I was happy to discover just how many great people I’ve managed to meet, I swear I would have gotten choked up if I wasn’t a hardass (I have a TapouT shirt to prove it!).

To top things off, a sponsor/dear friend had provided me with a plane ticket to the getaway of my choice for the weekend--giving that my birthday fell conveniently at the start of a four-day weekend, and after some careful choosing I narrowed it down to Miami.

And there it was, I went to my Parasitology lecture and headed straight to the airport where, thanks again American Airlines, I arrived an hour late at 11 PM in Miami. Peter, Marcel, and Calango took me out to eat, where I discovered that a massive cheeseburger, an obligatory birthday tequila shot, and a fried twinkie do not, in fact, sit well together. I waddled back to Marcel and Rafa’s apartment to get some sleep.

I was up promptly at 9 AM to head to training, at which point Marcel grumbled and tossed me his keys, telling me I was on my own. Upon arriving to the gym, a very flustered (and quite busy!) Cyborg figured out that he had, in fact, felt it was his obligation to tap me 21 times for my birthday. Man, I took a beating but it’s insane how a 215 lb guy moves with more agility and technique than most of the 150 lb black belts I’ve rolled with. If anyone ever feels like they may be getting good at this sport, I suggest you take a trip to Cyborg’s or bring him out for a seminar. Geez.

Açaí, the beach, then back for a private lesson and I was a happy camper. Cyborg went over the [many] mistakes I did at ADCC, especially butterfly guard passing, and I caught an hour or so sleep before nighttime training. At this point, I was worn out.

Thursday night I went out with friends, managing to snap the only photo evidence of my 21st (yeah, how awesome). It was fun to first explain where to find my birthdate on an Arkansan Driver’s license and then fun to get “Oh! Happy Birthday!” from random doormen.

I got back home at a decent enough hour to sleep for two-a-days on Friday. Still struggling with passing but Marcel let me pretend like I was doing well, allowing me to pass his guard once and almost sweep him. Cyborg’s school also has an awesome midget squad of 4-5 small blue and purple belts, so I just have a blast rolling with those guys. Marcel, Gugú, Calango, and I all helped the owner of the gym move in the afternoon, and based on the packages I’ll count that as my strength workout for the day.

Friday in Miami after your 21st? Must have been insane! Well, not exactly. I’m not sure if anyone here has ever met a metro-sexual cowboy, but his name is Gugú and he’s a purple belt under Roberto. After waiting two hours for him to don a tight V neck graphic tee tucked into tight jeans with a massive belt buckle, we were off in search of a bar. The criteria was one full of women, but when you’re with a couple Brazilians there’s little use in arguing. A spot was chosen, then Gugú announced that he’d left his passport in the car of a friend. Awesome. We wandered the city for another hour or so, and unable to find a place that would let him in, we headed back home.

Saturday was jiu jitsu fun day Saturday. Rolling at noon included a hefty roll with Rafa (including two knees to the face and a solid headbutt) and my dear friend Marcel. I still don’t know how you’re supposed to develop confidence in your game when training partners can carry on conversations while you’re going 100%. Alas, I will defeeeaatt him. We walked across the street to the beach (Yeah, you heard that right. Those bastards!) after training to sit in the water for a while, stuffed ourselves at a Brazilian buffet, and napped before going out Saturday. It was my official celebration, and just to show how dorky I am, I was the DD.

Worlds Nogi is in two and a half weeks. I’ve got my eye on my weight and absolute.

Pictures are necessary, so here are some of the best from ADCC and my highlight!

Right after taking third. I really was as bummed as I look.




"I have missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I have lost almost 300 games. On 26 occasions I have been entrusted to take the game winning shot... and missed. And I have failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why... I succeed." -MJ



Hugs/Abraços/Abrazos,
Hillary