When I finished 11th grade, I was awarded ‘Best in Math’ out of my entire year. Me. After being a judge at a CrossFit competition, I realised that means absolutely nothing. It should be considered a punishment of the highest degree to keep count of single 2800 single unders (actually closer to 3000 since I apparently don’t have the mental capacity to recite consecutive numbers).
The Valentine’s Day Massacre had a great turnout last Saturday in the Ventura County Fairgrounds, chocked full of muscles and adrenaline. Was I nervous to be held responsible for the rep counts of these top athletes? Annie the orphan bet her bottom dollar I was. We had heavy metal blasting through the speakers, the spectators screaming in support and little ol’ me losing my voice trying to no-rep with as much authority I could muster. It was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. I’m pretty sure no one wanted to listen to the teeny tiny Asian girl with a side pony.
After that, we went to a bar nearby and feasted on many many carbs (carbo-loading POST competition is by far, the best recipe for success) and laughed our bums off at each other. I was laughing so hard, my cop friend even had to keep reminding me that I had a first date the next day. I didn’t tell you? Oh yeah, I had a first date, blind no less. If you guys haven’t tried it, you totally should. There’s something quite horrible nerve-racking about not quite knowing how he/she/it will be and whether or not you’ll have an absolutely miserable time or one that draws no parallel to any other in the history of your existence. Anyway, I won’t bore you with the details except that he took me to a dessert cafe and I just about lost all of my sanity. We waited in line for half an hour and when we got to the counter, the barista was like, “I would never wait that long for just two slices of cake and some mint tea.”
Boy, don’t be talking to me about my business like you know what’s up.
Desserts are my favourite meal time, cuisine and nutritional group. Period.
I also spent today contemplating my favourite president in the emergency room while waiting for a friend to get checked out. Five hours, it took, for the doctor and multiple nurses to admit that they couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her. Awesome sauce. That’s splendid. Hippidy doodah. He should turn in his stethoscope. I also apologized to the nurse for my rolling sarcasm because I was, “just the annoying friend”, I joked. To which he replied, “Everyone’s got to have at least one.” Buddy, clearly you haven’t met me because I am a freaking delightful slice of charm and cuteness, man.
Oh yeah. Here. Look at my meniscus.
Also, I’m pretty sure the cat put her butt on my face last night. Sneaky ninja.