Is It Too Much To Ask For a Little Sunshine?
Sick. To. Death. Of. Rain.
Seriously, we have not had a cloudless day yet this entire summer. I realize that global warming is jacking up the entire world climate but, now; it is interfering with my ability to get a little color-just a titch, nothing dangerous- and I am not happy.
Also, the Man-Cub is quite concerned about the Polar Bears so, do what you can for the ozone layer, people; the Polar Bears and my suntan are counting on you.
So, yeah, I went to boxing again last night and I am one sore motherf*cker today. I still love it, in case you were wondering and, if you are searching for an alternative form of exercise, I highly recommend it. Last night alone, I burned a zillion calories doing three-minute circuits through the various stations; I have become accustomed to the sound of the ring timer and, according to the ex-boxer teaching the class, I have a mean left hook, already.
Bad men in dark alleys should fear me.
I should mention that one of the stations on the circuit consists of punching the shit out of a boxing mannequin (I have no idea what the correct term for it is; we just call him Bob) and it only took me a couple of timid punches before I felt confident enough to open up a can of whoop-ass; I am now perfectly comfortable beating the shit out of Bob's ugly rubber face.
Once again, men, dark alleys, fear.
Speaking of fear, I am now headed off to Pilates class. I want to get there early so that I can reclaim the spot that I usually use; one of the women from the Scary Pilates Clique stole it from me the week before last and I am bound and determined to get it back.
Unless she looks at me funny in which case, I am totally flexible and can use a different spot.
In case I haven’t mentioned it before; the women of Pilates are a lot scarier than rubber men named Bob. Or, anything else one might find in a dark alley, for that matter.