Ok, seriously....

I must be horrendously out of shape. These workouts are kicking my ass. Literally. The only time I enjoy being as sweaty as I've been have been when I'm....Parents: eyepatch it for me.....a lot less vertical than in class. I mean dripping. Gross. However, it is good for me, it is good to get my body into shape, it's developing me (how I'm not sure) but moreover, it's keeping me from my vices, all of which are well documented. I was going to attempt three classes a week, plus a bag class....realistically, for the first month, two may be all I can handle. I wanted to give up today, and then I pushed harder. The facilitator of the class, and my classmates don't care if I succeed or fail. The only person that I hurt is me, and that's the exact opposite of my going at all.

So. I'll be there Wednesday (or Thursday depending on how I feel). Will shoot for Saturday. If I can go every three days, it's not quite three times a week, but I think it's enough for now and it gives my body time to recover. I'm not going to quit on this. I may be a whiny human when I'm sore and attempting Bear Crawls, but I'm not going to quit (also, it's quite expensive).

And an aside, the owner of the studio invited me to join his kickball team. So I did. In the absolute hottest time of the year. Hopefully we don't get too many rainouts. It's literally rained every day I've been here. Ah....life. Interesting where it takes us....

Just try......

To break into my house again. Let me start this entry by declaring my undying love for all things JLo. Except maybe perfume, if she has one. She doesn’t really excel at anything, but is really good at a lot of things. She’s not a great actress, but she picks roles that suit her and they make a ton of money. She’s not an excellent singer, but she knows how to choose booty shaking songs.

In any event, the whole point of this entry is a bit of a follow up to the break in post. I’ve heard everything from it’s an isolated event to buy a shotgun, but I’m landing somewhere in the middle. As such, I refer to my personal hero, and the movie Enough for inspiration. It’s a horrible movie, really really bad. Some good eye candy, but other than that, there isn’t anything redeeming qualities about the movie and I’m willing to admit that. The payoff comes at the end. If you can sit through 90 minutes of “mailing it in” acting, the climax scene is an adrenaline boosting few minutes of heaven. If kicking the shit out of your abusive ex husband is your idea of heaven, that is.

By the end of the film, JLo’s character has had enough. He’s never going to leave her alone until he kills her, so she takes matters into her own hands. She meets with a lawyer and he suggests to her the art of Krav Maga. It’s a fighting technique taught to the Israeli army, with one simple idea: the use of force is met with excessive force. To the point of death. It’s really brilliant in the sense that anyone can learn it and use it effectively. ANYONE. Even the giant pansy laying here typing this out.

It’s taught to people of any age, male or female and can be used in any situation because it’s based on stress. They work you out for 45 minutes AND THEN they teach you the techniques to get out of holds. They do this so you’re tired, beaten, out of breath and ready to leave class. And they teach it in a way that’s easy to recall if for some reason you ever have cause to use it. Movement, force, focus. That’s pretty much it.

So, basically, a year from now I’ll be able to kill you. For now, I can break out of a headlock at kick you in the head.

Life goes on....

I was tempted to not write about this particular event, mainly because I feel like it was an isolated incident and I don't want people to worry. It's over with and (almost) done, and changes to life will be made due to it, but all of said changes I think are a good thing. It's about taking care of myself and making sure that I'm ok, because if I'm not, then no one else around me can be. That whole "looking out for number one"? Not so much a bad thing.

I signed the lease to my apartment on a Monday, and promptly started moving things over. All week, in with loads of stuff and then out and back to the hotel. My plan was to clean it over the weekend and officially be out of the hotel on Sunday night (Monday at the latest). Saturday I went to Target and spent an obscene amount of money on things to turn this empty shell of a house into a home.

I stayed with a friend in Suburbia Saturday night (which I likely will post immediately after this), and headed back to the city Sunday morning. I stopped into the hotel to shower and grab a few more things. Headed back to the casa to meet some friends for a Sunday Funday on the porch. We drank some homebrews, laughed a lot, met some of the new neighbors. Good times. At some point we got hungry and went to the Mediterranean joint down the street. Delightful food, great wine (which we had to bring), and the acquisition of a hookah.

You can guess what happened next....more porch time with said hookah. Invited a couple neighbors over to partake, missed the beginning of the Twins game. Eventually we packed up and it was down to the two of us. We headed to the pub the other way down the street, parked at the bar and watched the Twins. Met a few people that were interested in a game or two of darts (which turned into one because, quite frankly, cocktails were involved).

At some point we stumbled back to my place. I put my pajamas on and as I went to turn out the lights, I noticed a man walking down the sidewalk. Then he turned like he was going to approach my house. I turned off the lights and turned around, thinking nothing of it. A minute or so later, I thought better of it, but when I went back to the front door, he was gone. All is well, I think. I turn again, and he's now walking down the driveway, which is fine, because there's an apartment in the back as well. He's probably just lost or drunk or whatever. So I head to bed.

Trying to fall asleep, I'm unable to. Something isn't right. I mentioned it to my friend when it happened, and he agreed. Just a drunk trying to find his way home. Nothing to worry about. But now, I'm worried. I lay in bed with my eyes wide open, knowing something is wrong, but unsure what to do. Well, in the span of about ten seconds it was clear. I heard an odd noise, almost a thud, but not quite. Then I hear another sound. This time I know exactly what it is. It's me screaming after hearing a window breaking. My friend chased after him for a minute as I'm on the phone with the cops. I'm unsure how I remember my own name, let alone the address.

Then we're on the porch, waiting for the cops to arrive. I can't even speak; my friend does all the speaking for me. "He took off on foot, that way", pointing down the street. The cops drive off, looking for him. Neighbors come home, ask what happened. Story re-told, another cop shows up. This one clearly looks like there are things he'd rather be doing, like watching paint dry while eating a Krispy Kreme. He takes my name, the story (again), my ID.

"That's him!!! That's the guy!!", my friend yells. He looks like he's the guy. He's definitely drunk. He's definitely short. He's definitely not speaking any English. He's cuffed and put in the car. All is well. Except for the broken window, of course. I don't have a drill, or boards or anything, really. So the landlord is called. He has all these things! And he's close! Window somewhat fixed. Me unable to sleep. I still had the hotel room, so we hopped in my friends car and stayed there. And I stayed in bed all day. And night.

Court is at the end of July, though I doubt I'll retain any of this by then. People tell me one of two things - buy a gun (almost typed guy there - though I suppose that would work too), or quit overreacting, it was just a drunk guy that couldn't find his house. I'm landing somewhere in the middle. Monday is my first lesson in the art of Krav Maga. Just try to break into my house again.