Thursday, November 8, 2012

I Can't Even Be Trusted With Walking

As you should know if you read this blog with any sort of frequency or EVER, I'm in karate.

That being said, I have terrible hand-eye coordination.
My foot-eye coordination is great. If I'm kicking things. Like a tennis ball out of midair. (It's harder than it sounds.)
However, due to the condition of my legs, it's been concluded I should stay in bed all day and never do anything ever.

A couple weeks ago I managed to kick right when GGI did a backfist and her elbow hit my leg.
It swelled up, was sore, and I had a limp for a few days.
Ice helped.

This Saturday, I managed to slice myself open on my ankle.
Usually accidental cuts like that aren't so bad.
This one is an inch long and thicker than normal.
Go me.

Later that day, as my mother was picking me up from my dad's house, my dog escaped.

While I'm not sure if he made it out the door because I fell or I fell because he made it out the door, nonetheless, I fell down.

My other ankle has a scrape on it, my right knee has a quarter sized scrape with a bruise that kinda makes it look like a comet, and my other knee has a giant, fist-sized scrape right below it.

I'm cool.

Yesterday in karate, we were at the new place.
I fell.
The floors are really sleek so me doing a turning hook kick did not end well.
I fell heavily on my right thigh, and now that has a giant bruise.
About the size of two fists.
Not dark, but bruised, and so very sore.

On the upside, WE'RE AT A NEW PLACE ON WEDNESDAYS.

It's brand new, and the floor smells like icky bouncy balls. Not the good type. The evil ones. LIKE THE FLOOR.

GGI was actually there last night so the three of us were officially talked to about forming our own team. Ya know, this post? Also read this one because I'm a badass terrorist-looking stripper person. They open in new tabs. It's okay, I can wait while you get caught up. I'll just listen to elevator music in my head.
Anyway...

Our teacher told us "You have to decide if you're in, and if so you have to pick a name." 
DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS? 
DO YOU MOTHERFUCKING KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS? 

WE GET TO BE THE FUCKING OFFICIALLY NAMED POWERPUFF GIRLS.
 I DON'T THINK ANYONE CAN UNDERSTAND HOW HAPPY I AM RIGHT NOW. 
I AM A FUCKING POWERPUFF GIRL IN A "PROFESSIONAL" FIGHTING TEAM.

Okay no it's not professional we get a t-shirt and a trophy and I think I get a new bag from my other team but it's not like we get paid.
But we get "paid" in respect (if we win) and pride and a t-shirt and GIANT TROPHY!

We scared him when we started talking about The Powerpuff Girls. We told him to look it up. He's The Professor. We tried to explain but I think we made it worse.

BUT HELL YEAH I'M A POWERPUFF GIRL.
Sadly still Bubbles.
Ironically when we were walking away the other two were on either side of me a step behind. Like we were in formation.
...I'm a secret Blossom.
We'll talk, GGI. We'll talk.

The founder was there for part of class. He personally delivered our trophies,  probably as an excuse to spy on us. So I got my trophy from the last tournament! It's two feet tall!
Ugly as fuck, BUT TWO FEET TALL!

I really hope the founder didn't see me fall.

I taught the blue belts during the kids class yesterday. Now, the blue belts on Wednesday are known far and wide for being... rambunctious. 
I had two today, and they both had to pee at the same time, so I sent them with an adult purple belt boy.
One comes back.
Apparently, the other one had an accident, and was reported to me... peed all over himself.
He found a change of pants.
Upon returning, he reported to me "it's hard to aim your peepee stick when there's a karate uniform in the way." and that there was still a little bit of piss on his pants.


I think any instinct of motherhood has died now.


So yeah yesterday was interesting and I'm slowly running out of uninjured skin on my legs.
They don't exactly hurt... unless you touch them...
I'm wearing skinny jeans today and regretting it already.

Roswell stole my cape, bitch.
I shall kill. 
And yes I will happily kill over something like someone stealing my cape.
THAT SHIT IT A HUGE NO-NO.

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