A double-jointed stressball

Do you ever get the feeling that if these chicks ever chose to use their powers for good, or evil for that matter, or anything but a hilariously underappreciated sport that makes football look like retarded cavemen trying to rape each other, they could take over the planet?



My neice used to do that shit. I think it retarded her puberty. Uhm . . . good. I'm all for sexual maturity in a general sense but somehow when it comes to a younger generation of one's female relatives it doesn't seem like such a hot idea anymore, especially when they used to do competitive rhythmic gymnastics. I imagine it's a bit like my parents felt when I rolled around the house yelling 'look, I can put my feet behind my head!' and performing many other of my double-jointed tricks that could one day make me a lot of friends. And indeed did. Fuck. Oh well, there's still time for her to turn out gay.

Speaking of doing things with one's body, last night we started tai chi again. We needed something to relax and yoga and pilates, which I used to enjoy, feel too commoditized for me now. I was given a yoga shirt for Christmas with the pricetag left on it - holy shit - it threw me back to the one and only visit I made to that shithole cult Lululemon. I was going with a friend who needed me to tell her how nice her tits looked in each top she tried on but I wouldn't have otherwise. It's possible that if the clothes are not made in sweatshops (which, by-the-by, is not guaranteed by a made-in-Canada label; Vancouver, Lululemon's home base, is full of sweatshops, and they used a non-unionized facility to get going there), the ridiculously high prices could be warranted. But for doing yoga, for fuck's sake? I mean, do Asians ever look at us and laugh their fucking tits off?

Anyways, we started tai chi again. We had to. I go to the gym and commute by foot so I have some ways to get rid of nervous tension built into my life, but not enough, and the F-word has even less, and him as a teacher and me as a commie covering commodities build up a lot of nervous tension over the day. It feels great by the end. I don't know if it's the movements or deep breathing or both, but even though I lack the proper spatial understanding of my body to do anything right by the end it feels magnificent. And you can do it in your street clothes instead of some stretchy peice of artificial shit that costs Euro 50, minimum.

So this morning I feel better than I have in awhile, and yesterday also saw a spot of good news at work - I get to switch areas of market study into something much more interesting, and frankly, much dirtier, sometimes even more criminal. Hey, if I'm stuck in the corporate world, might as well be stuck in the underbelly, right? If this is education for me than might as well get a proper one.

In the meantime, the F-word has basically finished the cabinet, except the doors, but I'm not too fussed, I reckon it looks awesome: