Shalimar comes into town next week. How exciting is that! She’s got a concert at the Roxy. Doesn’t even live in LA, yet lives it up like a native Angeleno.
So, lately, every Tuesday and Thursday I’ve been coming home and iChatting with Mags about the latest way my aerobics instructor has reached out and touched me. I’m convinced we’re having babies. Today, we were doing crunches with our legs straight up in the air, bringing them together and apart. So, he comes and holds my feet to straigthen my legs more and moves my legs open and closed. I had to look elsewhere. Now you tell me we’re not having babies. Cuz we are. I’m insane. I’m going to speak to him on Thursday I swear. I also invested in the Bally Weightloss Kit. Its cheaper then Weight watchers, which i’ve been considering, and is just a kit to support making diet and excercise changes. Nothing too big, and I feel like a rather good investment in my personal health. My mother and grandmother have always had kidney and cholestoral problems, as well as being overweight. My grandmother and my grandfather both had diabetes, and my father had a cateract that led to blindness, and died from what I can only presume were complications with his health—though my mother won’t invest the time or energy into finding out if it was a genetic defect that could effect either of her daughters. I figure, with this familial medical history, a slight touch of heritary self/body-image neurosis, and a smidge of shallowness, I can afford to invest in my health. when my friend Sam told me that his friend Mack didn’t recognize me becuase I looked that different (and because when I met him it was over cuban food at Cha Cha Cha before we all headed to a Club Cheetah on Vermont two years ago for Sam’s birthday) I thought it was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me. What?! I know what you’re thinking, but I totally never said i wasn’t shallow. Like a mud puddle this one, like a mud puddle. I thnk the first time that I’d ever said that was at Institute in 2003. Nothing like fucking working like a dog in the hot summer sun, doing something that you really aren’t qualified to be doing will make one to have quite the realization: at 22, and trying to change the world, none of us are actually as smart, or as capable, as all that intellectualizing (is that a real word) we did in college made us believe. As a good friend once said in reference to going to school full time vs. teaching, “what, you want me to read and memorize shit? I can do that with my eyes closed.” (though that statement can only really be applied to undergrad…or graduate school at LMU. we all know that law school is really fucking hard, way fucking hard…and personally, I don’t think I have the attention span to read and memorize shit anymore.)
i’ve decided that in the last 2 months of school, I am going to start a homework bootcamp for those seniors who will not pass my class if they don’t start doing their fucking homework or completing their classwork. Stay for a hour 2 days after school to get your work done, and I’ll give you full credit for the homework. Its not cutting corners. If they actually did their homework every night it would add up to about 2 hours/week. Motherfuckers can get their homework points and complete all of their classwork. you would think being this close to graduating would cause high schoolers to fucking get on their game. Nope. Dumbasses. Love em, but I want to throttle them sometimes. I just really want them to pass my class. and honestly, I will do anything possible to make it happen. Dumbasses. its 11:05 pm, and this time change is fucking with my life. night.