Category Archives: fucking inanity

I feel confident in my ability to fight 3/4’s of an octopus

So, I’ve been a lazy lazy-bones for the past little while.  This is why God invented RSS feeds you can ignore until a person gets her act together and updates again, I guess?  Whatever!

I went for a long weekend to Ottawa with the lovely Miss Katherine, and in one drunken moment claimed that I could fight most of an octopus.  I think because eight legs is, like, two people?  Limbs-wise?  And two-on-one isn’t really fair, but maybe I could do slightly more than one-on-one, so I guess, like, I could fight all of one guy and another guy’s arms or something?  Which equals 3/4’s of an octopus?  Look, I was drunk.  Ernest Hemingway once said that you should actually do everything you claimed you would do while drunk, just to teach yourself to shut the hell up.  So on the advice of Hemingway, I guess I’ll be heading to MarineLand with my boxing gear and some octopus-grade handcuffs.

Do you guys want actually fightin’ news?  The other day was “get hit in the face” day, where you put in your mouth guard, put your hands up, and get hit in the face over and over for three minutes while practicing the elusive art of Not Blinking.  It’s funny to do because your partner keeps checking if you’re OK, so you keep assuring the guy that’s hitting you in the face that you’re cool while maintaining this unavoidably crazy Not Blinking game face.

I had karaoke shenanigans the other night!  It was my first time at karaoke, very exciting.  I sang Werewolves of London, because I am only interested in songs where I get to howl, apparently.  Also, I’m one of those “only knows the lyrics” people, so I don’t actually know the titles of, like, any songs, unless the title is in the chorus.  Lessons learned from karaoke: put you’re name down early.  I put mine down late and wound up waiting forever.  I would’ve sung more, but I was ready to leave by the time I finally got up.  So, learn from me, karaoke virgins.  Also, people misspell things, so don’t give up.  It may be under “Wherewolves of London” after all.

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Filed under fucking inanity, kickboxing, shenanigans, stupid jokes

Scar Buddy!

Man, I totally discovered my scar buddy last night.  Sasha from the club and I have the same surgical scars on our arms from breaking our arms in various gnarly ways.  The scars are, like, two long straight scars, one either side of the forearm, where the doctors go in to put the stupid bones back together.  I have seriously never seen anyone else with these scars, so I was pretty excited.  Sasha broke his arm in a being cool in high school football, while I was an idiot child who fell off a hay bale.  We also have similar knee scars.  I’d say three scar match-ups make scar buddies.  As such, Sasha and I are scar buddies.  I think that’s only a thing you can have if you’ve lived a certain kind of life.  A poorly thought-out life.

Oh, we had some fun exercising last night.  Some switching from high knees (jumping-as-high-as-you-can-and-tucking-your-knees-to-your-chest) to squats (squatting).  One day, I will get trapped in an old school Super Mario game, and I will rock the crap out of it, and it will be all thanks to my constant practice at jumping and squatting, courtesy of Gerald’s kickboxing class.  “Oh yeah, here’s a block, I’mma jump up and break it.  Now here’s a ledge, just let me squat down and slide under it.  Not even breaking a sweat, hell yeah.”

We also did human leg presses, which I really love.  These are like a normal leg press you would do with weights, but weights are hard to find, so instead you use a person!  The funniest thing about these is, for me, I have a harder time being the weight than I do being the lifter.  It’s a real trust exercise!  You can’t actually have any of your weight on your feet, so you’re just barely balanced on the tips of your toes and trusting your partner won’t let you fall.  I trust, I trust, but I’m a huge baby about that stuff!  Another thing about this exercise is that is wasn’t designed for the ladies, so to speak.  There is the possibility I had a footprint in my cleavage when I got home, is what I’m saying.  It’s faded!  Maggie also said she could feel my ribs shifting around, which is so delightfully weird.  I kept getting told to engage my abs.  I’m told that a lot.  I think, really, I should just do that automatically, all the time.  Kickboxing, yoga, at the grocery store, sitting in class.  Just Shannon, engaging her abs.

We did a lot of Thai kicks, which I love and got some good pointers on so I’m better at now.  Thai kicks are like a round kick, but with the shin contacting instead of the foot, and they are very fun.  (I would find a video, but we’re getting into kickboxing/Muay Thai distinctions that the YouTube search algorithms are just not equipped to deal with.)  Anyway, basically with a Thai kick you can kick a person from the same range that you can punch them from, and that is just gravy.  Those Thais think of everything!

I have looking through my tags, and I noticed a lot of my entries are tagged “shenanigans”.  If I were naming this blog now, I probably would’ve gone for some sort of pun, along the lines of “Shannon-igans”.  Which is probably why it’s good that I’m not naming this blog  now.  I would’ve had my internetting license taken away right then and there.

Oh wow, in other blog news, I might start doing some sort of weekly linkspam of all those ridiculous links I put up on Facebook, since they are apparently a source of excellent time-wastitude and not everyone reading this on my Facebook and anything I can do to spread the link/timewasting love is cool with me.  If I put them in a separate post, I’ll make sure they don’t post automatically to Facebook, just because a Facebook update that the blog post of all my links that I put up on Facebook last week is just too tedious for thought.  Oh man, oh man, but I will value-add.  I will tell you the best parts of the articles to read.  “Just skip to the middle, that’s the cool part.”  I’ve been holding off on that, but forget it, I’m just gonna do that from now on.  “Paragraph three is where it’s at.  Just past the picture.”

I have a week and a half left of this graduate degree, then I will be done!  Done like dinner, stick a fork in me!  So much homework, so I am blogging.  No energy for shenanigans.  Not even one shenanigan.  Must finish projects.

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Filed under exercise, fucking inanity, great ideas, kickboxing, school

Banana Superman!

So many shenanigans this week, I barely know where to start.  Sex Toy Bingo with classmates on Wednesday night.  This is, playing bingo for sex toys, and instead of shouting out “bingo” you shout out some sex term that the bar agreed on beforehand.  Basically it gave us disturbing insight into what some people consider to be sex terms.  Anyway, I didn’t win anything, alas.  I never win bingo.  Of course, I never go to normal bingo.  I’ve gone to this and Trailer Park Bingo, that’s pretty much it, ever.  I like it when I don’t have to pay for the cards, and also I can be drunk if I want.

Oh man, this was not the classiest bar, and I asked Steph to get me some white wine.  Apparently this was the exchange at the bar.

Steph: Can I get some white wine?
Bartender: White… wine?
Steph: …yeah.
Bartender: Um… Wha… *asks boss* Do we have white… wine?

So, yeah, in the end I did not get wine.

Thursday was St. Patrick’s Day!  This apparently translated into morning drinkin’ with Steph and various other Newfoundlanders.  I’m pretty sure Paddy’s Day is the one day of the year that getting drunk in the morning is socially acceptable, so it’s cool to blog about it.  Anyway, we were to Durty Nellie’s and had an enormous breakfast that was probably as authentically Irish as you can get without beans.  I drank wine, because I am a complete lameass.  The Newfoundlanders were explaining to some Navy guys at one point that I count as cool because I’m from rural Nova Scotia, but I was sitting there with glass of chardonnay, so I don’t think I was really selling it.

Oh yeah, by the end of the morning I was done drinking, as wine goes faster than Guinness.  So this is apparently my idea of appropriate ordering in a bar:

Steph: Guinness.
Shawn: Coffee.
Shannon: Cheesecaaaaaake!

The bad thing about morning drinking is the afternoon hangover.  And I had kickboxing to do!  Oh my.  I skipped a couple of classes this week because of homework, and I was not skipping Thursday’s, hangover or not.  Ah, it wasn’t too bad.  We were doing this thing where we fling ourselves out of the way of a punch, which we do a lot (called a ‘slip’), but this time practicing doing it really fast, with the idea of punching our opponents before they were finished punching us.  I was sucking hard at it, but last night we did it again and I was much improved.  Hurrah!

Holy crap, holy crap, last night’s kickboxing involved what might be the funniest exercise I ever have seen.  It’s called something like the Superman/Banana.  You start out on your stomach, and you raise your arms and legs just barely off the ground.  Hold for five.  Then you roll onto your left side without using your limbs, still keeping your arms and legs bowed up off the ground.  Hold for five.  Roll over onto your back, arms up above your head, barely off the ground, legs barely off the ground.  Hold for five.  Then onto your right side, do the same thing.  Then you roll all the way back, the same way you came!  An entire roomful of people doing this is a thing that I’m pretty sure needs to be filmed.

After last night’s class, I got a bit of extra grappling practice.  Gerald helped me out with some takedowns, because I am complete shit at takedowns and I was whining about it.  Seriously, in rolling I pretty much just wait for the other person to take me down so I can do ground stuff.  Not good form at all, Shannon.

Today involved a trip to the Dartmouth Farmer’s Market.  In a related story, I finally got to eat one of those Two If By Sea croissants.  Holy crap, enormous and delicious.  I’d just had lunch, but I was ridiculously determined to eat to entire chocolate croissant immediately, because I figured that a half-eaten, cold croissant wouldn’t be as nice four hours later.  I will never be proven wrong, either.  Because I will never leave one of those croissants half-eaten.  My logical systems are goddamned perfect, is what they are.

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Filed under exercise, fucking inanity, grappling, kickboxing, shenanigans

So damn lazy

I’ve had so much homework, so I’ve been skipping my various ass-kicking classes.  Well, two of them this week.  Not too bad, I suppose.  Except I’ve been writing boring papers instead of working out/beating ass.  My little row of post-it notes is getting steadily shorter, though!  Success!

Did do a nice amount of sparring on Saturday, though, mainly with Rosie.  We’re well-matched, so it was really fun to spar together.  We were also practicing trash-talking with each other.  I think I’m too nice to be a good trash-talker.  Oh well!  We were doing a lot of practice with the clinch, learning how to escape the clinch and immediately lock your opponent up in your own clinch.  So Rosie and I decided to try to see how long we could keep going with an uninterrupted chain of clinches.  Rosie would get me, then I’d get her, then she’d get me… I think we had up to five or six in a row before we gave up.  Anyway, now I have this ideal of the Eternal Clinch.  It’s where warriors go when they die.  It’s like poetry, because I don’t understand poetry.

Went clubbing Saturday night.  I learned that people who go clubbing with leg casts receive lots of high fives.  As for me, I was planning on having bare legs because clubs are hot and sweaty, but I realized when I had my dress on that my legs were all bruised.  Dang!  The life of a lady fighter is a tough one.  And like five of the guys I saw wandering around had no shirts on.  Lucky bastards.

We discussed blogs in class today, and the prof asked who had blogs, and what did they put on their blogrolls.  Man, I don’t have a blogroll.  I read blogs, but a lot of them are newsy, political things.  Or completely ridiculous.  I guess I should make a blogroll.  I also want to go through and start tagging posts as to topic.  It’s hard!  Every single post is just going to be labeled “red hot inanity”.

Kathleen and I went to a talk on repaying student loans on Monday, which was super-informative and I will share my notes on it with whoever wants them.  Like twelve people from all of Dalhousie came, and three of them were from the library school, because we are awesome dorks.  The guy who put it on had a vocal cadence kind of like a movie thug, though, which made me think that Student Loans may have repurposed him from “collections” or something.  They have this new image, they’ve stopped cutting off thumbs and breaking kneecaps, they need to find something for this guy to do, as far away from a switchblade as possible.

Yesterday I was having a weirdly high self-esteem day.  I mean, my self-esteem is pretty high anyway, but yesterday it was just off the charts.  I really should’ve written some cover letters, but they might’ve gone badly.  “Why should you hire Shannon?  Because I rock.  I will rock the reference right outta your desks.  Call me, bitches~  Peace out, double kiss.”

I had the great brainwave today that we should all write cover letters for each other.  Because we’d be more relaxed, and it’s easier to talk up someone else than yourself.  Again, this might go badly.  “If you don’t hire Kathleen, I will come for you.  In the night!

OK, I’ve added tags to this post.  Holy crap, are they inane.  I don’t know how specific I’m supposed to get.  I’ll go back and add them to my previous posts, too, when I’m feeling like avoiding homework sometime.  Oh, man, maybe I’ll even add that excerpt thing, a blogroll, and I’ll be like a fully formed blogger.

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Filed under fucking inanity, job search, kickboxing, school

Snowed in!

I had an excellent Sunday.  No grappling because of the tournament (which actually wound up getting entirely cancelled for everyone six hours before it started because the guy running it is the sketchiest sketch to ever sketch), no work because I got my shift covered.  It was my first Sunday off in ages.  I celebrated by doing what you apparently should do on the Lord’s Day, which is goddamned nothing.  Nothing but profanity, because I’m sure Jesus is cool with that.

I missed more kickboxing this week (terrible girl!) but I finally got back tonight, yay!  I got my new gear!  I ordered shin guards and head gear (not exactly like the links, but same brand and close enough).  Gerald got me the head gear with a ponytail holder, which is completely adorable.  Kristian made the comment, “Now you can get hit in the head” and I was all, “I know, yay” and then suddenly, “Oh wait, crap.”  So now people can hit me in the head during sparring.  It will make me less lazy about dodging, anyway (when I get tired, I tend to just let people hit me).  The shin guards mean I can get kicked in the legs, which is less of a thing.

I spent the better part of this week snowed in at Michael’s place in the country, but I didn’t miss too much because everyone else was snowed in, too.  Success!  I did absolutely nothing constructive.  Oh wait!  I helped shovel a driveway.  Constructive things = 1.  Go me.  It was pretty big for me!  I live in an apartment, shoveling driveways has become a pretty foreign concept to me!  Other than that, it was a lot of rough living, trapped under the piles of snow.  All that foie gras and wine, the mountain of chocolate, really difficult circumstances all around.  But really, we didn’t lose power at all out in the rurality, and when I got back I found all my clocks flashing, so I’m guessing Halifax did.

(I thought I made up the word ‘rurality’, but it appears 1,620,000 on Google, so I guess I lose the word game this round.)

Now I’m going through my RSS feed, which has been building up for quite a while.  If you notice a crazy number of links posted to my Facebook, it’s because I’m only finding them now!  And they’re still cool three days later, dammit!  Probably still relevant, what do I know?

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Filed under fucking inanity, kickboxing

Burrito Virgin!

Had a Burritos-and-Twilight Night with some of the kickboxing gals the other night.  Delightful!  Despite my attempts to keep my cool, I was revealed to be a burrito virgin.  I don’t know how I got so far in life without eating a burrito, I guess any time I was at a Mexican restaurant I just went with tacos.  It’s all essentially the same ingredients, whatever!  Not my fault I stuffed too much burrito stuff into my burrito.  Woe, shame!  Delicious shame.  Then we watched the third Twilight movie, and I’d never seen the first two (apparently also a Twilight virgin), so I had the movies retold to me by hilarious friends over wine, which I’m almost certain is more fun than watching the actual movies.  The third movie gave me this impression.  OK, there was one scene I sincerely, unironically enjoyed, the rest just involved yelling at the screen.

I got crappy news today!  My grappling tournament that was supposed to happen tomorrow isn’t happening at all!  Man, I had my shifts all switched, I told everyone I was competing, I’m so annoyed.  What happened is, there are only so many grappling ladies in the region, and all of them wound up pulling out of the competition at the last minute except my team.  So I would’ve driven for hours to get to Moncton, paid $60 to enter, and just fought the ladies from my own club.  Crappity.  On the bright side, there’s going to be another tournament, in Truro on the 19th!  It’s way better organized than this one, way closer, and my family can watch if they want.  Probably a better ‘first tournament’ than the one tomorrow, anyway (it was kind of sketchy).

I skipped kickboxing last night, to finish up an assignment (successfully, might I add).  And also today, because we had an auxiliary grappling class that was supposed to be for sprucing up for the tournament but instead turned into a much-needed bitch session (so good for the soul).  I am not doing well this week, only one kickboxing class and yoga.  No wonder I’m so sleepy!  I need to do some jumping jacks or something… but that… entails… standing…

Now I need some Whatever Policies!  Hmm… I’ve almost entirely abandoned my ‘only get groceries on Tuesdays’ policy.  Well, I’ve actually sort of inverted it, because it seems I get groceries on every day except Tuesdays.  I apparently really don’t want that 10% student discount or something, because I am doing everything in my power to avoid it.  What am I going to do with an extra $4.37, anyway?  Probably use it to get into trouble, is what.  No, I think it’s better if the Superstore takes it, they’ll use it better.  That’s my policy: Superstore spends money better than me, just let them have it.

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Filed under fucking inanity, grappling, kickboxing, shenanigans, Whatever Policies

Got my jill!

Went with Kathleen to my first yoga class in ages this week.  Very nice!  Tiny class, and the instructor will actually perform corrections, which I love and the yoga people at the gym never did.  This instructor made us do some of that terribly athletic stuff, too, which I always resent in yoga for some reason, despite relishing with Gerald.  Planks belong in bootcamp, god damn you!  But seriously, I liked it.  I have the world’s shittiest plank, anywhere I can practice it is probably for the best.

Gerald said that he wouldn’t let us spar any more unless we got cups.  Oh yes, Jessie solved my mystery for me, there are girl cups, they are called jills.  It is the cutest name for a thing on your crotch ever!  Anyway, I have one, I’ve been avoiding wearing it but I guess I’ll have to now.  I actually got kicked in the relevant area fairly hard last week, and I can see the value of the jill, good to get it before I get kicked really hard.  Oh yeah, to prove we’re wearing them, Gerald will ask “who’s knockin’?” and then you knock on your crotch.  None of this is a euphemism for anything.  Kickboxing is weird.

I have homework I should be starting, but I’m updating my blog instead.  Either I’m really slacking off on my homework… or really dedicated to my blog.  You decide!  Seriously, January is almost finished, how does that even make sense?

I’m introducing a new segment to my blog to annoy Kathleen called: Whatever Policies!  It is about my stupid policies.  Today I will talk about how I broke my No Pants Policy by buying pants last night, from the mall and everything.  They are jeans, but they’re pretty soft so hopefully not completely uncomfortable.  I bought them so I can go for walks in the woods and not get ticks on my bare legs, but they’re actually really cute pants and now I don’t want to get them torn and tick-infested.  My life is terribly difficult.  Is there a policy for that?

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Filed under exercise, fucking inanity, school, Whatever Policies, yoga