Ass Kicking for the Masses

Some like to think that they are bad ass.


People like....me. 
Not always just sometimes. 
Ok rarely. 
OK I AM NOT A BAD ASS!!! GOD! 


Jen is a bad ass. 
So is her sister.


Me...not so much. 


You see I happily went to Jen's house to "exercise" my fat ass. 
Maybe I shouldn't say fat. I mean I have lost about 10 pounds the last few months thanks to the all day fun of work and school. 
Jen has these magical videos that she has been working out to and I wanted too bond with my newly adopted family. 


It has been a long, long, long time since I have stepped into a gym. Let me repeat, it's been a long-motherfucking-time since I have lifted weights, sit-ups or did anything resembling working out. 


I thought to myself, what the hell, I am out of school I have some free time to get my soft body into that slim-tight-ab-firm-ass. Why the fuck not. 


I got to Jen's house and let the exercise begin.


By the 4th warm up, I was already sweating profusely and my legs were on fire. 


Breathing heavily I asked if we were almost done...because I was dying. 
We were only into the first 10 minutes of the 57 minute workout.


fuck.


By minute 30 I literally was about to pass out. Jen kept telling me to "breathe, bitch, breathe!"


"Are you going to throw up?" Jen asks as I threw myself on the floor unable to move


"No, I just can't do any push ups!" Is all I said unable to make more words come out of my dry mouth


I didn't almost throw up thank the strong stomach I have. I was trying to be a trooper because come on. I could do anything. Unless it includes push-ups then I am fucking done, screwed. 


Jen finished the 57 minutes, red faced and covered in sweat. Bitch was still pumped. 


I finished about 40 minutes, red faced and dying. 


I might have died somewhere in between the push-ups and the banana/superman rolling thing. 


Did I mention this magical video was a P90X video? 


No? 


Well it was. 
That shit is no joke. 
It is not for beginners like myself. 
It is hardcore working out. 


All though I am sure I looked pretty hot doing squats and shit. 


I got my ass handed to me by a dvd. A dvd! 
This is reason # 13 why I am not a bad ass. 


Next 2 days I couldn't believe how much my body hurt. I mean I fucking HURT. Everywhere. 


It was so bad in fact that when I tried getting into my car, my legs gave out and I fell into my seat. This happened a few times. 


P90X...I will see you again and conquer that shit! Believe you me! 


If you would like a swift ass kicking go ahead, I fucking dare you to do P90X for the duration of the program. 

Intimidation

There seems to be a recurring theme when Jen and I go out. 
I call it the deodorant of our lives, also known as "attracting the creeps." 




It starts out with a decrepit 70 year-old coming up to us to tell us that 
A) we are beautiful and 
B) he is old enough to be our grampy BUT he is filthy rich AND owns a fabric store. 
Everyone loves fabric! All kids of fabric. Did he mention he is super rich? Because if you didn't get that by the look of his average clothes and shoes that look like they have traveled more miles than I have driven, don't worry I am sure he will reiterate again, you know of the richness. Because he is and he would love to make us pillows with his fabric from his fabric store. Only thing is, we are going to have to pay for the filling ourselves. We can go cotton filing but if we are fancy enough let's say fuck it and go with the goose-down. 


Oh I almost forgot, he also owns golf bag that cost him $25,000 (that fucking rich ya'll), but we still need to pay for the pillow filling ourselves. So I guess its cotton filling for us broke bitches.


What do we say to this? 
Nothing we simply nodded our heads and agreed with old timer. 


Shit, I can't even make this up it was that strange.

Okay, that was one night, but still. Who does that? 
Creepy, rich, old wrinkled balled men do. 


We wondered about the men that refuse to talk to us when we are out and about or even ones that we force to talk to us. What?! Yes, force...from time to time. 
No matter. 
We are cute. 
Right?...


RIGHT!!!


RIGHT!!!


motherfucker. 


*sigh

For some weird reason guys do not talk to us. We are friendly. Probably too friendly to some. 
The guys that rarely come up to us are too much crazy for either one of us to handle. It always ends in heartbreak, 3 minutes later. 
While we drink away the night Jen and I talk, no good looking approaching men in sight. This always happens. ALWAYS. 


Not like we are looking, but still. Boost the ego once in a while for ol' times sake. 


Several times when we have asked semi-attractive or hot men why they don't talk to us they say the same line every time "You guys are intimidating." 


Is there a anti Rox and Jen network that we don't know about? Website perhaps? I will have to research this. 


It's like a bad punch-line waiting to happen. A bad joke being told with the same fucking answer every time.


"You guys are intimidating" (say it with a man voice it sounds better) 


What?!! 
Really? 


I usually look around, because I do not understand that little comment. At all. Nope. Not even a little bit. 


I have heard this comment A LOT the last several months. That is a wee bit too much if you ask me. 


"What the fuck you mean we are intimidating?" 


Is that some asshole excuse or what? 
Yes, yes it is, I say.


Look, you can't kill two birds with one stone with that stupid statement. Intimidating to you to try to make us seem high and mighty while you get away with not talking to women you don't want to talk to. (Lots of [to's, tos' toes ??..I'm not a good at the English] hope you can keep up)


I call BULLSHIT. 
To your faces. You assholes. 


Read:

Intimidation (according to Dictionary.com) 


–verb (used with object), -dat·ed, -dat·ing.

1.

to make timid; fill with fear.

2.

to overawe or cow, as through the force of personality or bysuperior display of wealth, talent, etc.

3.

to force into or deter from some action by inducing fear: tointimidate a voter into staying away from the polls.

Number 1. - I fill no one with fear. I'm only 5'4 and not big. Jen is 5'3 has great hair and does not fill me with the fear. 


Numero 2. - AHAHAHAHA THAT.IS.HILARIOUS! NEXT!!!! Overawe...AHAHA


That brings us to number 3. - We deter? By inducing fear? Come on men. Really? 


Look at us:

PICTURE HAS BEEN REMOVED 

I'm not sure how to take that anymore. I am starting to think that there is something terribly wrong with us. We just can't see it. 


Intimidation you say? 
FUCK YOU!
FUCK YOU! 
FUCK YOUUUUUUU!!
What is really wrong with us that makes you squirm away? COME ON GIVE IT TO US! We can handle it!!! 


Pussies. 


At graduation I got one reason why "the mens" do not like me like that. 
My guy friend was checking out some ladies and mentioned that he never saw any of these hot chicks on campus. "Well hello! It's called makeup, trust, it works wonders like one would not believe." Is what I said.  
He looked at me and said "Hey, don't get me wrong or anything, you are pretty and all but you are more like a guy." 


Really? 
WOW.
I am a dude. 
To him. 


Was that an insult? 
Probably not, because I am awesome and am like one of the guys.


Let's face it me and Jen are like men, no scratch that. We think/act/talk like men is what I meant to say. 


Please stop using "intimidation" as a bullshit excuse, if you don't want to talk to us just fucking say it and we can move on. Easy, peasy bitches. 

Monster

She is amazing. My 8-almost-9 year old daughter. 


Sometimes, she just doesn't get it. 


All of these talks and where am I now? Exactly where I have begun. The motherfucking beginning. 


We had a mother daughter day on Saturday. We did what any mother daughter duo does on a Saturday afternoon. 
We went to go see Paul Walker's sexy ass on the big screen. 
What?!! 
He does look mighty yummy in that movie with the cars. Five Fast or Fast Five..something like that. Look it doesn't matter what the title of that movie was, the fact that we had quality time to see a good looking man on the big screen is what matters.


While we were walking to the theater we had one of those deep conversations.
As deep as it gets for a 8 year old.


Monster: "You like my shirt mom? I'm wearing a bra. I need more bras"


Me: "Oh yeah? You should ask your father to buy you some then"


Monster: "EWWW, NO!!!"


Me: "Shush. Why the hell not? Just ask him. It's not a big deal" 


Monter: *Sigh* "I don't want him to buy them" 


Me: "You shouldn't be embarrassed. Call me when you get your period though, okay. I'll take care of that scenario. If its at school, your dads or at home" 


Monster: (Looking glossy eyed, nodding) "Umm. Yeah"


Me: "Wait, do you remember the conversation we had about periods? You remember what that is right?" 


Monster: (Keeping the doe eyed look, probably thinking about glitter and hair bows) "hgjkahuihgu jklag;jjklagj ruioah" or something like that.


Me: "Are you listening to me? I dont think you understood the last time. You promise you will call me? I just don't want you freaking out"


Monster: um. muttering under her breath something about her purple sandals. 


Me: Ok its settled then. 


She still doesn't know what the hell I am talking about.
Shit. 


She is more worried about hair accessories than anything else.
Oh Monster, you little shit you are so adorable and innocent.    
Momma loves you. 

Graduation Day

I graduate today. 


I left school yesterday after my last final (which I aced and was done in 15 minutes, first one to get up and leave), I almost shat myself thinking that was it. That was it!! I am fucking done. DONE!!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.  


Again, I restrained myself from doing cartwheels in the parking lot on the way to my car. Mostly because I had sweated through my shirt and it was hot as hell. 


I got in my little lady car and drove home. On the way, it hit me. Shit I am done. 
No more homework, late night classes, boring lectures, studying till my eyes fell out or heavy books to carry around. (At least for now) I might have cried a little. 


This semester kicked my ass. I took a real beating this last go round. 


I don't even know if this is real right now.  


Tonight I swagger walk to get my diploma. It may not seem like a huge thing but I am so proud of me for sticking it out. Degree. Me. Hello! 


Now I can finally breathe, relax and get that fucking pedicure I need.  


I am totally getting smashed tonight. 


See you on the other side!

Muscles

I got a queen sized bed recently.


It was in pieces, you know the head board and the side things and the end thing with a few scews. 
Yeah you can totally tell I have no idea of what the fuck I'm talking about, but just act like I do.


I had to put my new bed together alone and sans tools. 
It looked so simple.
Sitting there looking all easy. 
Easy enough for my tiny brain to figure out. 
4 big pieces, some screws, really, how hard can it be?
Sheeeeiiit. 
After trying unsuccessfully to fit the screw with the small washers into the holes about four times I gave up. 
To be completely honest I don't know what side the washers were supposed to go on anyway. 
Arms thrown up in the air, fist flying in circles around me, making noises that I am ashamed of making. Like a broken half-horse half-human, snorting through my nose. It was awful.  


Fuck this shit! 
Heavy ass side pieces.
No screwdriver!  
COME ON!!!!!


I gave up.


Until almost an hour later, I realized that I have little baby muscles. I could totally do it. 
I sat on my dusty floor once more and took one look at my arms as I flexed. 
That was all I needed to get the job done. 
I know. Weird. 
Look at these arms baby! I got this shit! Let's do it. 
By god my muscles are tiny, but that is besides the point. 


The point of this was.....
Wait, what was the point? 


Shit. 


I forgot. 


OHH, OHH I know, the bed! 
So I got the bed screwed together. 


Even though afterwards I was sweating into my tank top and into my ass crack, huffing and puffing, hair all messed up sticking to my back.

I am Rox the motherfucking champ!! 
As I stood back to admire my handiwork I might have done this. 

Not might, I did do that. 
I totally deserve a drink for that one.  
No help from anyone. I am almost like a grownup. 


Now when I get the mattress on it I can only hope that shit does not fall underneath me. 
That would be a shame, I would just blame the people who put my bed together, if anyone asks.