The fancy hams tried to kill me!
Hilo my friends. I realized that my more recent posts have been pretty boring; lists of things that I've done. I'm sure you're all pulling at your hair, beating your chests, and wailing "where are the funny stories?" Well, the truth is that there haven't been a lot of funny things happening. But there have been a couple, and so I'll fill you in.
Fancy Hams
As I've mentioned previously, a number of my new friends are gym bunnies, and so I've taken to tagging along with them when they go for various classes or workouts. On Saturday, N. and I decided to check out the step class; it's a level 2-3 (intermediate to advanced), but I've done step classes in the past, and I used to dance (isn't that a funny thought all on its own?!), so I figured I could manage the choreography. Fortunately, the instructor wasn't all that well, so she kept the class at a fairly manageable pace. I'm trucking along, all into the beat right left right left right knee left knee right left right left right ham left ham right left right left. So a knee is when you step up and raise your knee (tricky, eh?), and a ham is when you step up and touch your heel to your butt to work the hamstring. I'm motoring, really into my groove, when all of a sudden the instructor yells "fancy hams!" and all the women start crossing over their steps and making this whole tricksy move deal that is waaaaaaay out of my league. Always an eager beaver, I try it the next time round. I trip over my step, completely lose my mojo, and wind up on the wrong side of the step, out of sync, and totally lost. Wow. Was that fun! The next time round, I stick with double hams. None of this fancy ham business. I don't want any pineapple rings and maraschino cherries on my ham. Just give me plain boring ham. No applesauce required!
So we're trucking along, and every time the instructor bellows "fancy hams!" I stick with the double hams. But I'm feeling guilty. All these other women can do this. If Amy were with me in the class, which she can't be, because she's injured, she'd be doing the fancy hams. In fact, right before I left for class, she told me to "step for her." I'm letting her down! I can't let her down! I must conquer the fancy ham, cherries be damned! I got really focussed, stared at the woman in front of me (who's apparently having the restraining order arranged as we speak...), and step ham cross ham step step. I did it ! I conquered it! I fancied the bejeezus right out of that ham! Go me! (And yes, I realized that I'm elated over one step in an aerobics class. But for those of you who know me well, and know that I'd prefer to be in bed with a book... well, this is a big deal.)
The Idiot Waitress
While Amy's parents were here for the weekend, we lunched at Moxie's, one of my fave restaurants. Things were going well when we first arrived, menus and beverages were not a problem. Concerns began when Amy ordered her sandwich and salad, and the waitress came to doublecheck what kind of soup she'd asked for. Umm - no soup. (No soup for you!) Things got tricksier when Michael requested a carafe of iced tea, as 3 of our party were drinking it. That fancy french must have baffled our waitress - she was so confused that Michael had to let the idea drop!
All this was just the elegant prelude to the coup d'etat: Amy's currently wearing a sling that keeps her arm wrapped practically around her neck to keep it from moving (she fell and broke her collarbone, poor sister of mine). Our waitress steps up to her and says "Oooh - what happened?"
"I tripped over my chihuahua," replied Amy.
"Don't worry about it," the waitress says (Don't worry about it? Don't worry about what? Having a broken collarbone? Being one-armed? The fact that you're an idiot?) "I was voted the klutziest girl in Campbell River!" (Wow, now there's something to brag about. At least me and my fancy hams required a certain skill, a certain finesses, a certain je ne sais quois. Oh right - the french confuses you). I, like, broke my leg playing soccer? (imagine all of this section being spoken in 'up talk' - where simple declarative sentences sound like questions) I ran out on the field? and like tripped over, tripped over, ummm, tripped over the, this (searches for word) thing? (word search didn't go so well I guess. Send search and rescue next time, eh?). And then? After my leg, like healed? I, like, ran out on the field, and like, the first thing I did? I like, tripped over that same thing, and reinjured it!" (Squealed triumphantly, like this is the cherry on her hamsteak).
We all just stared at her. Kudos to Amy who managed to put on her 'concerned, and I care about you' face, and said "wow, that's pretty ... awful." The rest of us just bit our lips and counted the seconds til "the klutziest girl in Campbell River" was sort of out of earshot and we could laugh hysterically at her. Once she left, Amy let loose with the best run-on sentence/imitation I've ever heard:
Hi, I'm Mandy? And my boyfriend's name is Bobby, and he like, works down at the garage, and and and he has a motorbike?and he lets me sit on it and sometimes we ride it together and my favorite color is pink!
So there you go guys. Some funnier stories to keep you entertained - hope you found them moderately humorous. Maybe not :D but at least :). Please, no :|
Loves you,
Elizabeth
Fancy Hams
As I've mentioned previously, a number of my new friends are gym bunnies, and so I've taken to tagging along with them when they go for various classes or workouts. On Saturday, N. and I decided to check out the step class; it's a level 2-3 (intermediate to advanced), but I've done step classes in the past, and I used to dance (isn't that a funny thought all on its own?!), so I figured I could manage the choreography. Fortunately, the instructor wasn't all that well, so she kept the class at a fairly manageable pace. I'm trucking along, all into the beat right left right left right knee left knee right left right left right ham left ham right left right left. So a knee is when you step up and raise your knee (tricky, eh?), and a ham is when you step up and touch your heel to your butt to work the hamstring. I'm motoring, really into my groove, when all of a sudden the instructor yells "fancy hams!" and all the women start crossing over their steps and making this whole tricksy move deal that is waaaaaaay out of my league. Always an eager beaver, I try it the next time round. I trip over my step, completely lose my mojo, and wind up on the wrong side of the step, out of sync, and totally lost. Wow. Was that fun! The next time round, I stick with double hams. None of this fancy ham business. I don't want any pineapple rings and maraschino cherries on my ham. Just give me plain boring ham. No applesauce required!
So we're trucking along, and every time the instructor bellows "fancy hams!" I stick with the double hams. But I'm feeling guilty. All these other women can do this. If Amy were with me in the class, which she can't be, because she's injured, she'd be doing the fancy hams. In fact, right before I left for class, she told me to "step for her." I'm letting her down! I can't let her down! I must conquer the fancy ham, cherries be damned! I got really focussed, stared at the woman in front of me (who's apparently having the restraining order arranged as we speak...), and step ham cross ham step step. I did it ! I conquered it! I fancied the bejeezus right out of that ham! Go me! (And yes, I realized that I'm elated over one step in an aerobics class. But for those of you who know me well, and know that I'd prefer to be in bed with a book... well, this is a big deal.)
The Idiot Waitress
While Amy's parents were here for the weekend, we lunched at Moxie's, one of my fave restaurants. Things were going well when we first arrived, menus and beverages were not a problem. Concerns began when Amy ordered her sandwich and salad, and the waitress came to doublecheck what kind of soup she'd asked for. Umm - no soup. (No soup for you!) Things got tricksier when Michael requested a carafe of iced tea, as 3 of our party were drinking it. That fancy french must have baffled our waitress - she was so confused that Michael had to let the idea drop!
All this was just the elegant prelude to the coup d'etat: Amy's currently wearing a sling that keeps her arm wrapped practically around her neck to keep it from moving (she fell and broke her collarbone, poor sister of mine). Our waitress steps up to her and says "Oooh - what happened?"
"I tripped over my chihuahua," replied Amy.
"Don't worry about it," the waitress says (Don't worry about it? Don't worry about what? Having a broken collarbone? Being one-armed? The fact that you're an idiot?) "I was voted the klutziest girl in Campbell River!" (Wow, now there's something to brag about. At least me and my fancy hams required a certain skill, a certain finesses, a certain je ne sais quois. Oh right - the french confuses you). I, like, broke my leg playing soccer? (imagine all of this section being spoken in 'up talk' - where simple declarative sentences sound like questions) I ran out on the field? and like tripped over, tripped over, ummm, tripped over the, this (searches for word) thing? (word search didn't go so well I guess. Send search and rescue next time, eh?). And then? After my leg, like healed? I, like, ran out on the field, and like, the first thing I did? I like, tripped over that same thing, and reinjured it!" (Squealed triumphantly, like this is the cherry on her hamsteak).
We all just stared at her. Kudos to Amy who managed to put on her 'concerned, and I care about you' face, and said "wow, that's pretty ... awful." The rest of us just bit our lips and counted the seconds til "the klutziest girl in Campbell River" was sort of out of earshot and we could laugh hysterically at her. Once she left, Amy let loose with the best run-on sentence/imitation I've ever heard:
Hi, I'm Mandy? And my boyfriend's name is Bobby, and he like, works down at the garage, and and and he has a motorbike?and he lets me sit on it and sometimes we ride it together and my favorite color is pink!
So there you go guys. Some funnier stories to keep you entertained - hope you found them moderately humorous. Maybe not :D but at least :). Please, no :|
Loves you,
Elizabeth
posted by Elizabeth @ 00:10
2 Comments:
At 9:31 a.m.,
Anonymous said…
So, I've been going to step for 6 months now and I have no idea what a fancy ham is. What exactly do you do? I found my dance background helped me when I walked into the intermediate class without any prior step classes. Good for you for conquering the fancy ham! Is that really how Amy broke her collarbone, because that's awful!
At 3:52 p.m.,
Karlie said…
Lolol. I like the fancy hams story. It's just like when I was taking Ballroom at U of A with Allan, and he didn't understand turning in the waltz. He'd do just fine until we had to turn, and then he couldn't put his feet down in the right order. And sometimes when we were moving straight he'd somehow manage to lift and put down the same foot twice (instead of alternating) so that he was then leading with the wrong foot. I don't know how he did it without jumping or hopping, but he did!
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