I Feel Like Jello

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Last night, Laura and I, in the spirit of emjoying public humiliation, went to kickboxing lessons.

My first revulsion to this whole scheme was the fact our instructor looked like a old boyfriend, who I am paticularly annoyed with at the present moment, but this, like other boyfriend annoyances, will soon fade I am quite sure.

Laura and I, were at best, pathetic. Since we were both so amazingly unathletic, uncoordinated, and I am bordering on DYSLEXIC because I cannot even MIRROR people, the instructor wisely paired us together.

Only problem being we were cracking hilarious comments and trying very hard to concentrate and beat each other. The situation was compounded by the fact our instructor has a crush on Laura, so he would NOT LEAVE US THE BLOODY HELL ALONE. Laura, who was actually catching on quite nicely, was recieving all the attention. Sarah, who was on the verge of tears and whose punches closely resembled the flailings of a newborn, was ignored and forgotten.

Mental Note: To improve myself kickboxing skills, must get a snazzy velour pants like Laura's.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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