It’s half-past chach time.
Woke on time to kung fu it up this morning. Chain whip is a lot of fun. There is a butterfly kick in this form, so after class I stuck around to help Matt get the hang of it. He’s never tried one in his life, but he picked it up fast since he’s an adept observer. I guess that comes with his whole ‘be really quiet’ gig.
In other news, I laid off of running for a day or two, then today I was able to shave a significant chunk of seconds off of my usual mile. It could have happened because I was pissed though, which is something I have aforementioned. I seem to run the best whenever something happens to leave me feeling like an expendable pawn.
I came home and poured myself a glass of water in the kitchen. Mom came in with a travel guide and went “Cape Cod? God, no, I’d only go there for the lesbian whale watch.”
I had to lower my glass and let the water I was drinking reverse its trek down my throat so that it poured back into the glass. I didn’t want to choke and die with those being the last words I heard. Luckily, mom kept talking. I guess she’s always wanted to take dad and James, a friend of theirs, on a lesbian whale watch. Not for her to watch whales, but for her to watch James and dad be extremely uncomfortable.
She shared another story about their visit to a bar that was run by a bunch of gay guys. It wasn’t a gay bar, but there were a lot of gay waiters. In hot pants. Dad was mortified, but very polite about it. Dad just kind of swims through life being these two things. Mortified, and polite.
The reason for her spiel was because, coming home from the PR building this morning, they saw the local plaza advertising a Lebanese Buffet, complete with belly dancers. Apparently, dad took this moment to confuse ‘lebanese’ with ‘lesbians’.
“Where are the lesbian belly dancers?!”
Mom’s reign of humor continued as I decided to take a bath with epsom salts. I had looked around for the shower curtain as not to dry out my hair, but I was unable to locate the damn thing. I yelled downstairs asking if mom might know what happened to it. She found it next to a bag of goggles and an (unused) airplane puke bag. She brought these things upstairs in addition to the shower curtain, in case I needed them or something.
Now what’s worse, John, having to wear a helmet while brushing your teeth, or having to bathe with goggles and a puke bag?
