chapter twenty five: dance of the burning weave

tonight was day twenty five. that's one less than 6 days left. it's the junkie industry's most hated day of the year, assuming you don't count day twenty six, twenty seven, twenty eight, twenty nine or thirty. or any statutory holiday. the night kicked off with a big, dynamic, EJ:x bang. mr junior gong took us out in broad day light and lied to us, insisting that he was, in fact, not teaching the class. all the while he was telling us to kick ourselves in the butt... literally. the junkie community hasn't been this excited since 80's night.

i was enjoying the class until sniffles kicked us out and it was my turn on the treadmill. since my boss mr junior gong was in charge of the cardio portion, i wasn't allowed to even yog. strictly speed walk. i stomped my way through 2 minutes like a clydesdale. and then there was the step... i would like to explain my art of side steps tonight. "if your quads feel like they're going to blow up, you're on the right track" isn't something i necessarily want to hear, considering i'm deathly afraid of loud noises. none the less, towards the latter part of my legs being ignited, i started to do the 'i'm going to muscle through this any way i can' dance. and i'm not talking a beyonce-esque little diddy, it shouldn't even be classified as a dance move. it was more like something you'd do when your weave is on fire. i was trying to get that flame out. and i don't even sell enough dope in my hometown to get myself a good weave.

why you dancing like that kitty cat? that's pretty inappropriate, this is a family gym. and where ever they are, the two kids i gave up for adoption shouldn't be seeing that. ahh, x.

not too long ago, i signed a contract in blood saying i was going to participate in a 30 day functional fitness challenge. this has been something (which i'm sure my fellow challengers can attest to) that has become more a part of my life now than picking up men at the grocery store. my 'other, non fitness-y' friends can't quite understand the time (and lack of street style) i've dedicated towards such a thing. what, you cant recognize me because i'm in a unitard?