Fall, Spring, Summer and Winter... and Kickboxing

Do you all see the title of my post? The four seasons. Something that we here in Cleveland, Ohio do not have. Really.

Where does this post come from? Well when Avi asked me his 5 Questions, one of them happened to be: ......is there anything good about Ohio? As part of my answer, I stated that: "Obviously we are missing 9 months of sunshine, but no place is perfect." Now I would like to be allowed the indulgence of elaboration.

First of all, for those of you who have ever been to Cleveland during the wintertime, I apologize to you right now. For those of you who have not and are planning to one day travel here, or more likely are one day forced into flying here against your will, please aim for June through August. It doesn't usually snow here then.

Point? Ahem? I do have a point to this rambling mess of a post and that point is that here in Cleveland, Ohio, home of the once burning Cuyahoga River, we do not have seasons, per se. What we have are two weather options: freezing your ass off, blowing snow or roasting in the seventh circle of hell, hot as ball sweat outside.

Right now, we are in the midst of a blistering heat wave in October. Only in Cleveland would the baseball season begin with cancellations and moved games due to snowfall, only to turn around during the playoffs and have record temps in October hovering close to ninety. Although, now that we have shut down the Yankees, I feel free to send all of my little Canadian Soldier friends (that's what we call them thar' Midges) a huge shout out for swarming the Bronx Bombers. And I mean BOMBERS!!! Whoo hoooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Go Tribe!

Of course by the end of this week, the temps are supposed to drop back down to "fall weather". And I really do enjoy that crisp smell in the air when it gets down to the fifties. I love to sleep with my windows open and have the blankets pulled up to my chin. However, since fall only lasts for about 3 weeks 'round here, I am sure that the first snowfall is not that far off in the distance. If there is one thing that I DESPISE about living in Northeastern Ohio, it is the snow. One day soon, I will explain to all of you non-Great Lakes residing folk about the wonders of "Lake Effect Snow" and how it can get cold enough to freeze your tatas to the inside of your WonderBras, but as I am typing this, I started feeling a little sick to mah belly just thinking about all of that unending snow, ice and cold, so I will quit before the flashbacks begin.

I know that there was a whole point to this post, something about the seasons, but I can't really remember right now because my entire body is on fire. Why? The kickboxing class I took with a couple of ladies I know. My neighbor (one I like), told me about this new class and how it is close by (my old gym ended up being a 40 minute drive one way and I ain't a Ladies Workout place kind of gal) and reasonably priced. Plus you can pay by the month which is great for me because my attention span and commitment issues have taught me to never sign up for anything long term.

So off my happy ass trots to what amounted to be the most horrific 60 minutes of my life. Satan, and he is the Devil incarnate, had us running and punching and kicking and lifting and doing all kinds of shit that my Captain Morgans swilling, Virginia Slim smoking, carb eating, lazy fat ass would never desire to do in my lifetime. Then he had us do something so heinous that I wouldn't wish it on all of the Stepford Cunts in the whole wide world. I believe that they are called suicide drills. No, that isn't the right name, but I can't remember it now, what with my brains leaking out of my ears and all of the blood gushing out of my nose, but the name fits since I am ready to drive a spork into my jugular. Basically, these fun little exercises are accomplished by laying flat on your stomach, jumping straight up in the air, running to the other side of the room, dropping back down to your belly and doing it all over again. Twenty awful, horrid, painful assholecocksuckingsonofabitching times. By the end of that little treat, I didn't know whether I should pass out or take what little remaining strength I had left and hunt down a gun and shoot the sadistic sumbitch. When we were finally finished, I had a chunk of hair hanging over my eyes, I smelled like the inside of a skunk's asshole and my face was somewhere between the color of a baboon's backside and those fun spots that you see when you close your eyes after staring at the sun for too long.

As I was crawling to the chair where I left my shoes, Master Turdhead comes up to me and asks me how I liked the workout. Somehow, experience I am guessing, he was able to interpret my wheezing as the universal sign to shut the fuck up and back away slowly. BUT!!!!! The class burns about 800 calories. In an hour. So as much as it pains me to say this, I think I am going to start working out. Thirty is staring me straight in the eye and that bitch ain't lookin' too pretty. I need to tone up, slim down and get healthy so I am around for a long, long time to torture everyone around me.

Fuck. Me. I am guessing that I may have a new weekly "thing" to post about though, so that is a bonus. Sorry for the rambling jumble of words which I am certain contains a ton of errors, but my hands aren't working so great after beating up a standing punching bag.

Hugs and Kisses Fuckers.