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09.14.2004 - 12:32 p.m.


JB and I went to a wedding this weekend, and I think it was a fine way to spend the day on September 11. I have to confess that I raised an eyebrow when I saw the invitation – Oh, won’t they hate thinking of tragedy on their anniversaries? – but it was such a lovely event, no thoughts of towers and planes whatsoever, and why not focus on love, hmmmmm?

The groom was a good college friend of JB’s (O, the frat stories! Here’s something awful I learned from these two: want to fuck with someone’s car? What you do is, you take a tube of toothpaste and you blooooort it in a line along the windshield above the wipers. Unsuspecting victim gets in, says WTF, turns on wipers – presto! That shit is never coming off, evah!), and he asked JB to be his best man, which was awesome because 1) I got to see JB in a tux, hubba hubba, and 2) it was fun to help out with the behind the scenes preparation for the big day. Well, if you can loosely translate "help" to mean "running around getting in the way of the photographer while snapping photos with my own camera". Did you know that photos of people turn out way better when they’re posed by a professional? They do!

The event was in the Oregon college town that both of us lived in at one time, Corvallis, AKA Beaver Country (I am not making that up) and we had a good time driving around pointing at things: Hey, that mall has a Borders in it now! It was weird to see how quiet it is, how you can drive from one end of town to the other in just a couple minutes. Why didn’t I appreciate that when I could? Why didn’t someone give me a good shake when I was whining about how it wasn’t metroPOlitan enough, and show me a picture or two of 520 during rush hour?

(This is the place that Brooke Wilberger disappeared back in May, and there are still banners and signs everywhere. It’s a terrible story, it’s true, and I hope she turns up safe and sound - but don’t you wonder whether there would be signs for a homely girl, someone with bad hair and glasses?)

We had a great time at the wedding; the ceremony went off without a hitch (or, to be precise, with a hitch – HAW!) and JB performed magnificently as best man, delivering a wonderful speech that was funny and touching and garnered a spirited round of applause. We danced, danced, danced, until my brand new Nine West flats were killing me, then I took those fuckers off and we danced some more, a hip da hop, a hippity a hip hip hop and you don't stop. Fun!


Yesterday I did something I haven't done in months and months: I dragged my ass to the gym and went to the 5:30 PM "Total Kickboxing" class. I knew it was going to be hard, since I've become woefully squashy and out of shape cardio-wise ("Don't make me run, I'm full of chocolate!"), and dear god, the humiliation.


Me: Okay, put my keys over there, do some stretches...yeah, warming it up a little. A deep knee bend, maybe, or - OW. Ow. Okay, not so deep, not so deep just yet, how about we just touch our toes. Yeah.

Instructor: "All right people, let's see you MOVE! GO GO GO!"



Me: This isn't so bad! Okay, I can do this, I can do this.


Me: No. No. Definitely can't do this. Definitely can't.


Instructor: "Eyes on me! Eyes on me! Here's what we're going to do! Right kick! Right jab! Left punch! Left front kick! Two jabs left! Two jabs right! Chamber kick chamber! Now GO!"

Me: Chamber kick-?


Me: Okay, I'm just going to sort of wait until I figure this out, maybe, or -


Me: Shit!


Me: Uh, right kick, left kick, block, got it! I rule! Wait, why is everyone turning around? Oh god they're all facing me now, how did THAT happen?


Me: Fuck!



Instructor: "Here's where you make it count! Here's where you make it count! Sidekick! Left jab! Uppercut! Uppercut! Right kick! Four jabs right, four jabs left! Now run it out! Run it out! Knees high! Knees high! Knees high!"

Me: Must not vomit. Must not vomit. Must not vomit. Must not vomit.


Me: I KNOW she's not going to make us run laps. I KNOW she's not going to do that. Dear god, my left lung just burst out of my mouth and draped itself over the water fountain, how can I run laps?

Instructor: "Okay! Run it out, people! Let's go! Let's go!"


Me: Nooooooooooooooo!


Instructor: "You did great, everyone! Be sure to stretch! Drink lots of water!"

Random girl: "Is this your towel?"

Me: "Mwkj. Sn? Blp."

Girl: "Um, here you go."

Me: "Pzzzzzzzzf. Ff."

All I have to say for myself is that I lasted the full hour, and never you mind about all those water breaks I took. I deeply regretted the fact that I had forgotten to wear a sports bra, because grah, the bouncing, and I will never ever wear the nylon-y workout pants I brought ever again, because they got all clingy and wet and HORRIBLE, and I really didn't need that distraction on top of the whole, you know, staving-off-death thing I had going on.

Since apparently I am a glutton for punishment, I'm going to try and make it to the Wednesday class. Excersising, twice in one week! Am practically Madonna.


Dear lord. Aaaagh! Can't....move!! Jeez, Dooce, stick a warning on that child's head!

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12 comments so far.

I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004

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