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Welcome to my blog. Brb... I'm making memories (read as: Wine. I'm going to get some wine...)

The Knee Cracker

So as some of you may know I have been going to Bootcamp for the past 3 months.  No I am not a masochist, or I would carry toothpicks around in my pockets and jab myself in the eye every now and again… I may however be a tad retarded as my sister managed to sway me into doing the 5:30am camp.  Which entails me having to wake up at 4:30am… which isn’t a pretty look for me… I crave brains… the sparrows don’t even wake up to considering FARTING at that time of the morning.  Her theory?  On the later camp she only gets home at 7pm and then only sees my 10 year old nephew for an hour before he goes to bed. She wailed something about a latchkey kid and him turning into a crack whore and it would be our fault for going to Bootcamp so late.  Fuck me, no pressure.

“FINNNNNNNNNNNNNNE I’ll do the damn early camp!”

Great, so sisterkins gets to spend time with my nephew, I get to HAVE a 10-year olds bedtime and be drooling on the couch by 8pm. I know… I’m a party animal!

It’s quite pretty out in the Botanical Gardens at that time though, looks like a scene right out of Bambi, only minus the … you know… mommy deer getting a cap in her ass…!  All the birds are out and about, ducks waddling around with their babies, the one token buck jumping around... and this weird ferrety thing that I’d love to stroke but am too scared to lose a finger and get rabies.

But instead of feeling like Snow White singing a melody with 5 birds perched on each arm, I am doing sit ups, trying not to puke and keeping a beady eye in the sky, covering my mouth every time a duck flies past.  Poop in your face / mouth at that time of the morning would be …well… I guess nothing worse would happen to you for the rest of the day.

So anyhoo, all this bootcamping has led to me getting 90 year old knees… that’s what happens when you have to do 50,000 lunges and your hydraulics aren’t working too well.  They kind of sound crunchy… like when you stand on a can, and they illicit the same response that a dentist’s drill gets from people when they hear it. That “horrified get the hell away from me you dodgy cyborg” type look.

So I decide to go to the chiro after a bit of bullying.  Let me just tell you this if you have never gone to a chiro before… I would rather gargle WASPS than ever go again! God in heaven I got a massage from Mr Vice-fingers and I can only imagine the rude noises the receptionist was hearing.  There I was grunting like I’d taken a bum full of buck shot! Every time he went around me to get more Arnica oil I considered what the repercussions would be of fly kicking him in the goolies and legging it down the road in those stupid little shorts and gown they give you!

I walked out, my knees felt great… I think it was the fear, they knew what was good for them.  The rest of my legs however… pfffft.  So now I have taken to never bending my knees ever again. I look graceful… like a giraffe.

Tore me a new one...

Hug me... I was covered in poo!