Bro, For The Last Time, Shut The F*** Up About Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu

Don’t get me wrong, it’s been great working with you. You show up, do your job, and you don’t bring that cat piss smell to the office like some of the other Bruce Lee wannabees we work with. (I’m looking at you and your moldy sports bag, Justin in Finance).

And sure, during team-building happy hours, as we slam shots and chat about sports or babes, it even starts to feel like we were becoming work bros.

But let’s get one thing straight. It all gets flushed down the goddamn toilet the moment you bring up Brazilian Jui-Jitsu — for the millionth time.

Look, I get it. We all get it. As you’ve explained to every single person you’ve ever met, you were a lazy, fat f*** before you started that BJJ class. You had no confidence, no discipline, and you were binge drinking your way to an early grave. Now, you’re a lean, mean, grappling machine.

Cool story, bro.

We’ve all noticed that whenever you show up to work with another black eye or cracked rib, you’re quick to point out that BJJ isn’t about aggression. It’s all about control.

Sounds legit! How ‘bout you try controlling your mouth for a change?

If all you did was mention that you earned your purple belt, that’d be fine. And sure, once and a while it’s okay to remind everyone at the office of that free beginner’s class at your gym. Hell, we all have hobbies we like to share, but it requires practicing ‘good office etiquette’. Like when I jump on the breakroom table and challenge all you cross-eyed motherfuckers to a game of beer pong down at the local bar.

What do you do? You somehow work a high-pressured BJJ invite into every single goddamn conversation you have. Why do you think I suddenly have to take a shit every time you swing by my cubicle? Here’s a clue: it’s not the jumbo-size bag of Doritos I had for breakfast.

You love to ask bullshit questions like, “Do you feel secure walking downtown with your girl?” Well, I did until your stupid ass brought it up!

Also, cut the shit about BJJ being the ‘ultimate self-defense’. You think a knife-slinging’ crackhead is gonna just mosey on into an armbar? No way. He’s gonna stab the f*** out of you, take your wallet, and use your gym card to wipe his ass. Game over, dude!

I know Linda in HR would write me up if she heard me say this, but if I wanted to get sweaty and roll around on the floor with a co-worker, it sure as hell wouldn’t be you. I know you keep saying that BJJ is ‘no homo’, but I’m starting to wonder why you get so damn excited about humping other dudes’ faces. Call me old-school but I’d rather not submit, or get submitted by, another man.

Wanna know who I wouldn’t mind ‘tapping’? Chicks!

Remember them? I do. When I roll around with a female, I have a zero percent chance of getting poked by a sudden adrenaline boner. Those are odds I can live with.

Cindy from Customer Service? She can take me into the supply closet for a ‘rear naked choke’ anytime!

Big-bottomed Susan from Accounting, middle-aged mother of four? I’d mount her ‘banana split hip lock’ without a second thought!

Get the picture, bro? Enough is enough.

Everyone at the office is happy that Brazilian Jui-Jitsu changed your life for the better. But now it’s time to shut the f*** up about it and let us go one goddamn day without having to hear the word ‘armbar’, okay?

Oh, one more thing. If you tell Linda from HR I said any of this, I’m gonna hand out rusty knives to all the local crackheads and tell them you’re holding.