brainwashing

Overheard in a sparring class.

10 year old female white belt: "you're so much better at this than I am!"
10 year old male orange belt: "I'm a MAN. You're a WOMAN. Of COURSE I know how to do this better than you"
Girl: "What?"
Boy: "I know all the right places to hit because I'm a Man."

I interrupt: "Really, Visham? Are you better at this than I am?"
Visham: "Well no. but you're a black belt. I'm only an orange belt"
Me: "Right so...I have lots of experience and I know how to do this well, right?"
Visham: "YES" <-- he was angry!
Me: "So don't you think that as an orange belt you've had a lot more time to get good at this than Chelsey, who's never sparred before?"
Visham: "... yes"
Me: "So maybe it has nothing to do with girl or boy, but is more about experience?"
Visham: "... maybe"

Maybe if I get them when they're young...

buahahah

Clever disguise

I spent six hours riding my motorcycle through and around mountains and valleys today. It was so sunny... I got *so* sweaty, just from being in the sun. I really like BC. And motorcycles.

When I got home, I had to go get groceries. Instead of wasting all that time showering, I totally disguised my sun-grubbiness with a sun-dress. And it worked! I got a compliment from a complete stranger. He had NO IDEA he was talking to sweat-ball.

:D

Di another day

I was given a gift a while ago.
It's soap.
There is a D-12 embedded in the soap.

I've been using this soap excitedly for... what feels like forever. I have to finish the soap to get to the di (die?...singluar dice). But it is the LONGEST LASTING SOAP EVER.
It's been months! I lather vigorously, in hopes of speeding up the process-- to no avail. The di is protruding a few milimeters above the soap, so I'm getting close. But not yet. *scowl*

soon...
Soon.

Bow down to the Queen of garbarge

(booooo!!!)

I hate putting out the garbage. I *hate* it. It is my least favorite "thing around the house AND work" I hate to do.
I've made bargains with people: "I'll do ALL the dishes, if I never have to take the garbage out"
I've pleaded: "pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasedontmakeme"

I don't know why I hate it so much. I assume I'm repressing some sort of traumatic childhood incident: I have no problem with any other sort of cleaning.

Anyway: Now I *always* have to deal with the garbage. The only other person who might take care of dojo-garbage...is on crutches. I don't mind carrying all the heavy things. Making all the food. Cleaning all the messes. Teaching all the classes. Fetching all the things... but today I took out the garbage *again*
:( <-- this is me pouting.

I'll get over it. I just had to get it out of my system.