I miss kickboxing rather intensely. It's not that I miss the malodorous stench of my fellow novices' sweaty feet on rank, moldering mats. Nor do I particularly miss the incessant injuries running the gamut from sore muscles, to twisted necks, to shattered bones ( Read more... )

I can't help wondering whether his mysterious throat condition will miraculously disappear after last night ( Read more... )

I actually woke up and exercised a bit before work this morning. My indefinite hiatus from kickboxing has left me quite insecure. No one was here to congratulate me for arriving at work before 10 am, but there was an email announcing my transition to the new project ( Read more... )

"So, did [B.] break your foot?" she asked as I folded a stack of boxer shorts. "Because I thought you broke it on some girl."

Several disappointing bits of news ( Read more... )

After a rather disappointing series of foosball games, I returned to my office to find my voice mail light flashing. There is always this strange, warm throbbing in my right foot after foosball as of late; putting weight on it for such a protracted period of time seems to exacerbate my injury. I was going to do some work (honest) when my crotch ( Read more... )

You stumble home around midnight, favoring your right foot, unlock your apartment and limp into the darkness, stripping off articles that stink of another's body odor. The clothing remains where it falls (perhaps the manservant will pick it up tomorrow). Stepping out of sweat-soaked underwear, you wander naked into the kitchen, grab a bag of ( Read more... )

It's called an Act of God. As we approached the rec center, B. and I suddenly found ourselves buffeted by hurricane force winds. We shielded our eyes from flying debris and leaned forward to facilitate our halting progress. While he remarked with astonishment upon the sudden change, I was preoccupied with the numbness in my toes; the ankle brace ( Read more... )

"Ah shit! That's the one that was already injured!"I was referring to my right foot as I hopped back a few steps and we stopped sparring. For a special treat last night, we did three rounds of kicks-only, our arms held above our heads to expose vulnerable midsections. This necessitated either moving out of the way or blocking your opponent's ( Read more... )

Before A.'s call this morning, I was dreaming about malevolent, intelligent plants; some sort of flowers capable of extruding mouths were plotting to take over the world. Unfortunately, I was wrapped up in my own personal life. You see, I was dating Britney Spears, only she had this abhorrently thick New Jersey accent ( Read more... )