Tag Archives: fashion

A Kick in the Face is Better than None

Aw, this is my last update from this particular reference desk you folks will ever get!  It is completely dead here, because exams are over and it’s the long Easter weekend.  Let us hope I get even one question.  But the memories!  The memories of all my lovely questions!  Oh, such cherishing.

I have had some good times in kickboxing this week, let me tell you.  I got kicked in the face!  It was a complete accident on Rosie’s part, of course, just a matter of missing the pad and hitting my jaw, but it was a hard kick and everything.  It was during drills, not sparring, so it’s not like I messed up by not dodging or blocking.  I was supposed to be in the kick’s way, just a foot and a half lower.  Anyway, I am totally stoked over this.  Kicked in the face = officially hardcore.  Poor Rosie kept apologizing, because what else can you do after you kick someone in the face?  I would feel completely horrible if I did that.  But I got kicked, so I’m just aces.  Anyway, my reaction immediately after the kick was strange.  About five seconds of being completely fine, followed by thirty seconds of freaked-out pain, followed by being completely fine again.  I think in a fight, I’d hit back during those immediate “completely fine” five seconds, and the adrenaline would carry me through the painful part.  I know this is probably common knowledge, but it’s the first time it’s happened to me, so I’m all intrigued.

On Friday, we did a whole bunch of kicking.  I don’t know if you know this about me, but I have a simple dream.  That dream is to one day become Anderson Silva.  (IN CASE IT’S NOT CLEAR, SILVA IS THE ONE WHO WINS THE FIGHT.  THAT’S THE ONE I WANT TO BE.)  As such, face-kicking practice on Friday was a crucial part of that goal.  I mean, getting kicked in the face is badass, sure, but at a certain point I would like to win fights in very cool ways.

Bootcamp on Saturday morning!  We did some insane thing called plyometrics.  Wikipedia with it’s fancified letter-words doesn’t get across what plyometrics is, which is jumping.  Jumping a lot, in strange, inhuman ways, while being assured that anyone can do anything for thirty seconds.  A really hard one, but probably my favourite for the “fun factor”, are called rock stars (found as the first workout of this video).  Seriously, you pretend to be a rock star, jumping as high as you can while whaling on your guitar.  The arm motion is completely superfluous, it’s just good goddamned fun, because if you’re already jumping that high, then you might as well air guitar.

Went home for Easter dinner and had Easter dinner times.  It was also part birthday dinner because my birthday is next week.  Whoo!  I got Easter chocolate and birthday chocolate.  Pretty much the best day ever.  I also got cool new sneakers, because working-out people are supposed to get new sneakers every six months and I’ve had mine for almost a year.  And they were falling apart, too, so I guess it’s true.  Anyway, mine are awesome and black and comfy and you guys, I have a confession, every time I get new shoes I imagine myself fighting crime in them.  Cool black sneakers are sort of ideal, and big boots, but it gets a little ridiculous with, say, sandals or high heels.  I started this habit pre-kickboxing, too, so we can’t even blame that.

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Filed under bootcamp, exercise, family, kickboxing, work

In which Shannon gets punched in the head for, like, five minutes

Oh man, sparring with headgear is sweet.  I can’t actually get hit with full power, because there are limits and all that, but I still got to get hit in the head.  A few more rounds of this, and I will figure out this whole ‘dodging’ thing that the kids are raving about.  Or forget third grade.  One of these.  For the last sparring round, we traded on defense and offense, meaning first Judy could only strike me, and I could only defend, for five minutes, then we switched and I could only strike Judy, and she could only defend.  Taking away the ability to strike made us really work on our defense, which was the purpose of the exercise.  Having headgear on, it basically lead to me running around while getting hit in the face for five minutes.  But I learned!  Being on offense was stupidly fun, though, because I could throw the really impractical, like, spinning back kicks that telegraph from a mile off and there was nothing Judy could do but dodge and be exasperated.

Oh yeah, on Thursday we learned spinning back kicks, like Chuck Norris does in those movies I never actually watch.  I feel very cool while doing them, but can’t actually remember them five minutes later and also at this point would probably get stabbed several times while setting them up.  By which I mean, while sparring, my partner would have time to leave, buy a knife, probably haggle with the knife salesman, come back, and stab me three-ish times.  Of course, it’s only a matter of practice, I will get faster and better the more I do them.  But it feels so far off!

Grappling today!  I requested that we learn sweeps (like, flipping your opponent), and boy howdy, did we sweep!  We were doing some tripod sweeps and using the momentum of our falling partner to propel ourselves up on top of them.  Being the bouncy little lunatic I am, I was somehow rocketing, like, right over Jodie’s head like a bullet, way into the beyond.  Near as I could figure, my strategy here is to land in the next match over and beat both of fighters using the element of surprise.

Kristian at the club was asking me exactly how cold it has to get for me to wear long work-out pants, as opposed to my knee-lengths.  I was being evasive about it, and finally he was just, like, “You just like people seeing your pretty boots, don’t you?”  Ding-ding-ding!  It is true, I will suffer a lot of cold just so I can show off my sexy boots.  $4.50 at Frenchy’s!

In things that have nothing to do with fighting, I did my annual volunteering at the LiveArt fundraiser last night.  I’m always up for a free dance/comedy show.  This is the great thing about volunteering.  Coat check is a relatively easy task, and then I get to watch an awesome show for free.  But coat check can be hard in some ways, because some people have fabulous coats that I covet so hard.  And then they want them back, but already I’ve become emotionally attached.  I’m all, “Have you seen my coat?  It’s sensible and functional.  I might as well wear a Stalinist boot factory.  You take it, I’ll keep your furry thing with the buttons.”

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It’ll be the Poor Man’s Vajazzling!

Holy crap, Kickboxing Erika and I came up with the greatest idea ever yesterday!  It started with her offering to give me a ride to Game Night after kickboxing, and I really wanted to show up wearing my cup, because wearing a cup to Game  Night is just a good gag.  Then we got on the idea of how all the other library students are really good crafters, and I suck so hard I can barely knit a square, and next crafternoon I am just gonna sit in the corner and bedazzle my jockstrap.  That’s when it suddenly became clear we had stumbled across the world’s greatest idea, ever.  Bedazzled Jockstraps!  It’s the sporty version of vajazzling.  Don’t think I won’t do it, either.  And don’t think there won’t be pictures.  And eventually some sort of commercial empire.  We’ll need taglines.  “Get kicked in the crotch with rhinestones.”

Game Night last night was delightful!  In the hours I was there, we managed to play, like, four rounds of Balderdash.  There is nothing more fun than ridiculous lies with friends.  I also came up with a new version of “That’s what she said” for this decade.  Everyone say it so it catches on, OK?

Leah: “I’m confused, but I think I just lost.”
Me: “That’s what I say every time I make love.”

A leftover issue from the trip to the giant-themed restaurant last week.  Do you think, dear Internet, that a proper giant-themed restaurant should have giant food, because it is for giants, or tiny food, to make you feel like a giant?  Kathleen believed it should be the former, I thought it should be the latter, and this terrible issue threatened our precious friendship right up until we got normal-sized food and were united in disappointment.

I finally did some pushups yesterday, after not doing any for well over a week.  I was getting worried about my buffness, OK?  We also did an exercise where we had to dodge either a jab to the face or block a right hook.  Only two choices, and I still kept fucking up and getting hit.  This is why I’m always bruised.

In grappling, I rolled with poor Angela and kept her locked up in a choke for, like, a minute and a half before I finally had it tight enough to actually cut off her air.  So she just couldn’t move and was extremely uncomfortable while I was flipping her around and trying to make the choke proper.  My arms were actually starting to hurt from flexing so hard.  This is how my showdowns with muggers will end.  “Damn, my biceps are aching.  Can you just, like, go?”

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Filed under exercise, grappling, great ideas, shenanigans

Operatic UFC!

I have been having some fun times since the last time I chatted with you people, let me say!  Last night, I went to my first opera, and saw my first UFC match!  I wore the same outfit, too, because I figured Bubba Ray’s Sports Bar could do with some class.  (Dammit, I own a tuxedo jacket, and I will wear it.)

So, opera!  I learned, when people are singing in that crazy operatic tone, I cannot understand a flipping word.  Well, maybe I got, like, 1/20 of the words, tops.  The fact that it was Dido and Aeneas, set in a high school, without changing the plot to fit the setting for some reason, did not help.  And then, at the end, Dido got up on her funeral pyre and did not set her goddamned self on fire!  That was the one thing I was looking forward too!  Who the hell builds a funeral pyre and then stabs herself?  Prom Queen Dido, apparently.

But UFC was awesome, so awesome.  I went with junior kickboxers (also went to the opera with them), and they were excited I was there because I’m the only grappler in the group.  So I could explain what was going on whenever the fight went down to the ground.  I’m useful!  Anyway, I never really got the whole sports bar thing before now, but it’s seriously fun!  We all yelled at the screens during the boring parts, and cheered during the awesome parts, and it was great.  I really want to talk to people about the cool parts, too.  The boring parts sucked, but when it got great, it was so great.

I did grappling today, and I had a bit of a weird little breakthrough.  We do this thing called pummelling, which is demonstrated here.  Basically demonstrated, anyway, the way I do it I grab on really tight, but whatever.  It’s basically hug-dance fighting, and for some reason I have been completely crap at it, until today!  I just got it!  Anyway, I’m just happy.  It makes up for the fact that I was learning some other thing where I flip my partner over her head and onto her back while I’m doing a shoulder stand under her and I was really shit at it and hurting my partner and I just had to stop because I was not getting it.  It is hard to tell directions when you’re upside down and spinning!

Kickboxing yesterday!  I didn’t have any need to wear my head gear, but I did put on my shin guards.  As soon as I put them on, I told Gerald they made my legs look fat and I didn’t want them anymore, so that is my new joke about shin guards, be ready for that.  In reality-land, though, they make my legs sweat like a police informant.  Who would expect heavy, leather encasements for your legs would cause sweat?  I am baffled.  In the end, we didn’t do kicks so I had them on for nothing, but Tammy had fun kicking my legs anyway, so I’m happy!  We also did a drill that was all about blocking uppercuts, over and over again.  Holy crap, hard on the boobs.  My awesome sportsbra has padding for extra protection, but it still hurt.  I need some kind of Xena bra, that’ll help.  Solve every problem I’ve ever had, probably.

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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

You win this round, society!

OK, fine, there’s a snowstorm and whatever and I’m finally wearing my stupid tights like a normal person.  Yes, I’m toasty warm, but at what cost?  Nothing but the price of the tights, you may say, but no!  There is more!  There is also my dignity!

My first quiet-reference-shift update of the year!  On account of the aforementioned snowstorm, there is absolutely no one here.  I am also looking at a giant orange tarp, because construction has finally migrated its way on down to the worst of all places, a place where I can see it.

Some very awesome grappling today.  We learned an absolutely brutal new choke called the North-South choke.  I was the dummy at first, so I experienced it, like, six times before I ever saw it.  The only parts I knew were what happened to the opponent.  I was trying to be helpful to my partners later, but the steps I knew were, “grab her armpit, push off her hip, then terrible pain.”  Seriously, it somehow manages to cut off your blood and your air and it is so mean.

Then in rolling, I managed to successfully use a choke I learned today (not the mean one) without any prompting or helpful instructions from anyone.  Hoorah!  If you want some TMI from rolling, well here’s some of that!  I got an awesome new Under Armour sportsbra that zips up in the front (the baddest-assed sportsbra around), which is great for absolutely everything in sporting world except, as it turns out, twisting and turning against an opponent in grappling.  Last week after I finished rolling, I realized I had come completely undone.  This was near the end of the ladies’ class, too, when the men start coming in for the next class, so I had to rush into the bathroom to, you know, collect myself.  So this week I was prepared with an extra, old sportsbra over top of my wonderful new one, to protect the zipper and also act as insurance.

(If sportsbras were a high school Under Armour would beat up Lululemon.  I’m not saying that’s morally right, I’m just saying it would happen.  Maybe Lululemon was texting mean things, and so much prettier, jealousies arose.  …  This dumbass scenario is going to be in my head for days.  If you see me looking aloof and thoughtful, know that I am not thinking of philosophers or great books, no, I am detailing the petty dramas that would lead to an imaginary smack-down between anthropomorphized pieces of lingerie.  If you see me crying, it’s because high school is hard.)

Tomorrow doesn’t have any fitness planned, which isn’t too bad, because I did just do three days in a row and I’m going to try to get to the Tuesday night kickboxing, too.  Maybe I’ll try hulahooping during that online class I have.  I don’t know how involved online classes are, do I have to sit and type or can I just watch the screen?  Who am I asking here?  Oh well!  I am in some pain today, but the important thing is that my calves don’t hurt.  Seriously, for the love of God, I hate it the most when my calves hurt.  That why my stretching routine is pretty much all calf-oriented and nothing else, because I have a poor grasp of the concept of, well, “reality”, really.  (It hurts when I sneeze or laugh, by the way, so the abs did their part.  Nobody give me any pepper or witticisms!)

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Filed under exercise, fucking inanity, grappling, school, work

New Year!

New Year’s Eve was awesome, of course.  It was Katherine and I vs. wine, and we prevailed!  We drank wine, we drank all the wine.  Ah, but the wine wreaks bitter revenge today.  Katherine figures I should live in Ottawa, because I need her good influence.  I think I should live there because Katherine needs my specific influence.  Not bad influence, just my influence in general.  The whole world needs my influence!  I need to start my own magazine, I think.  Or religion?  That could be a resolution: become cult leader.  (This is why I need Katherine’s influence, incidentally.  She so consistently curbs my cult leader aspirations.)

On the topic of resolutions, I have none.  I’m pretty good at being consistently goddamned fabulous, let’s not risk fucking up perfection.  Katherine and I determined that, in the New Year, we’re both going to be healthier, but that’s not so much a resolution as an undeniable statement of fact.  Late December has been so full of chocolate, wine and ass-sitting, it would be utterly impossible to be less healthy.  Gerald is doing some week-end mini-bootcamps this month, I think I might go for it.  But I can’t think about it too hard right now, the hangover won’t allow it.

You will be not shocked in the least to learn I’m irritatingly peppy while hungover.  I’d like to thank Katherine for not stabbing me in the neck at any point this morning while I insisted on headbopping to 80’s music and chasing her dog, because terrible pain is no reason to sit still and be quiet, that would be just ludicrous.

This morning, in two completely independent conversations, through no maneuvering of my own, I wound up talking about the difference between Jimmy Buffett and Warren Buffett.  I just found that mind-blowing, and I’m making you read it like it’s interesting to people other than me.  Anyway, I swear to Christ, when I was a teenager I found a clothes store online with Hawaiian-print dresses run by Jimmy Buffett, and no-one believes me and it no longer exists.  It’s the phantom Jimmy Buffett Hawaiian dress store!  That haunts my addled brain!  I’m not crazy!

Because we are mired in the cold and terrible winter months, and my legs are weirdly immune to cold, I’ve been going around with bare legs and a shorter skirt.  It’s my campaign to bring some skin into winter.  Reactions on the street are mixed, to say the least.  But I stand by my campaign!  And I will until, like, mid-January, when it gets really cold and I finally have to put on stupid tights.  (The secret is, it’s not a campaign, I just hate tights so much, so very much.  Almost as much as I hate pants.  Damn pants.)

Oh, while Katherine and I were out being brilliant a few days ago, I came up with a totally awesome quote that’s now my blog subtitle: “The best ideas are rarely good.”  I thought that was pretty rad.  I’m going to scrawl it on my forehead in permanent marker before every job interview ever.  (But seriously, potential employers Googling me, I’m just entertaining, don’t worry.  Imagine how much fun I will be around a water cooler.)  I also want to put it on my (still) potential business cards, but I’m pretty sure it violates every rule of business cards ever, and my career services guy may just start hitting me and never stop.  Anyway, with Katherine I plotted out the business cards: my name, this quote, and a picture of my face, squished into a photocopier.  Missing: phone number, email, anything else.

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Filed under exercise, fucking inanity, shenanigans, stupid jokes