P.C. #1(not to be confused with politically correct, which this is not. see above header)
Imbibing: I went to a party last Friday night where the featured drink was Red Bull and vodka. You may be asking yourself what in the world I was doing at a frat party? Admittedly, it did feel like a frat party with guys trying to convince me that I NEEDED the heinous concoction. I don't profess to vast medical knowledge, but thank drinks sounds like a heart-attack in the making. Conversation snippet--"No thank you, I have to teach yoga early in the morning." Response #1--You can teach with a headache. Your students won't know the difference. Response #2--It's so awesome, just like snorting cocaine. (I so didn't make that up) Response #3--Just drink one, come on, it's not that bad, it won't hurt you. The reality--not a frat party, but a 44 yr old man's birthday party. The guys are still pushing drinks 20+ years after college. It was a real family affair. Kids ranging in age from 4-17 were running around watching their parents get smashed. There's a conundrum. We tell them DON'T DRINK. DON'T DRINK & DRIVE. DRINK RESPONSIBLY. What great role models we are.
P.C. #2 Why do we take better care of our pets than ourselves? You may be wondering if my newly adopted greyhound has fully recovered from his traumatic concussion experience of last week. His physical head seems to be fine, but he is suffering from a severe emotional disorder. TOBO (short for Tony Bone-who would name a dog THAT???) was diagnosed as having an extreme separation/anxiety disorder. The dog must have superhero strength teeth, because he managed to bend the metal of his crate. It no longer latches. He also shredded two blankets into confetti-sized pieces in a matter of hours. Today we tried a baby gate, which he knocked down with seconds. The doctor prescribed Reconcile, a doggie form of Prozac. I'm wondering if I should be taking the meds to reconcile the fact that I have an insane dog. Funny how I will fork over the mullah for the doggie anti-depressant, but wouldn't even consider it for myself. Xanax take me away.
P.C. #3 Speaking of mullah, have I told you that my squash pro instructor's name is Enamullah? It's pronounced like anomaly except with an 'uh' on the end. He is a bit of an anomaly. He can stand in the center of the court, with both arms extended to either wall, kind of like the evil monster dude in Spiderman. He enjoys (and I pay for this privilege) making me run to every corner, missing the balls, until I'm gasping for breath. What is the appeal of squash anyway? I am paying money to a man who encourages me to hit a ball against the walls of a small cell-like structure. He neglected to tell me that squash was a full contact sport. Yesterday my friend Marianne and I decided to practice, which resulted in a head-on collision. My face crashed into the back of her head. I didn't realize that you really DO see stars. As I was spitting out blood into the sink of the locker room, I was wondering what exactly is fun about this? The sick thing is that my lip looks better swollen and purple. All of a sudden, I have the collagen-implanted supermodel pout. Now I just need the other side to complete the look.