2008 a year to....
I came home last night to find my wife twisted into a pretzel on my living room floor.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“It started out as Downward Facing Dog.”“It looks more like Sideways Curled Up Cripple.”
“Idiot, I pulled something now my back is spasming.”
“You sure you’re not just trying to turn me on?”
“Don’t make me kill you.”
“Do you want some help?”
“Don’t touch me.”
“So this is like sex.”
And so the newest New Years resolution had reared its ugly head.
I don’t know why my wife has to try all this crazy stuff. It started with the Jane Fonda workout about twenty years ago. I’d come home and instead of being able to watch M.A.S.H. I’d have to watch my wife hopping around the living room to that pinko Commie on videotape.
The worst was that Taebo kickboxing thing. We had this stupid pole with a pad on it in the middle of the living room and she’d kick the crap out of it all damn day.
I accepted it in the belief that it saved my life…. or at least significant bruising.
Then it was Aikido. I’m sorry but there is absolutely no reason to give a premenopausal woman a sword.
Then boxing. She did that for five years. I didn’t get away with crap in my house.
For the past twenty nine years the only question I’ve ever been afraid my wife will ask me is, “Do you want to see what I learned today?”
So when she said she was going to take yoga I thought, “Hey that’s great. Go for it. She can’t hurt me with yoga.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you up?”
“Maybe you should have started with an easier yoga position. Like “Lazy Fat Man Sitting On Couch Eating Pizza”. That would be the one I started with. Then maybe go into “Crouching Ego Hidden Self Esteem”.
“I swear you’re a dead man Calabrese.”
“Have you ever thought that instead of doing all this crazy stuff that you should… Oh I don’t know…. try a sit up?”
“I am so going to hurt you.”
“How about next time instead of trying yoga you just eat yogurt? I’ve never heard of anyone pulling anything from eating yogurt.”
“Idiot, help me up.”
“I thought you didn’t need any help. Okay okay.”
“Here’s the deal Calabrese. This year I’m doing Yoga, and Pilates. I’m also taking a “fusion” class. Then we’re going to take up ballroom dancing. I’m doing it for me. Because it makes me feel better about myself and keeps me in shape.”
“Hold on….. I’m rewinding what you just said in my head. Um…. Did you say “we” are taking up ballroom dancing?”
“You don’t want to do it with me? Fine, but I’m doing it and that’s that.”
“What would possess you to think that I would want to ballroom dance?”
“You don’t want to dance with me?”
“Awww Jeeeeezzzz…… I don’t want to dance with anyone. At least you’re finally going to learn how to cook.”
“Um….. You know that….. you know…. um…. fusion class?”
“Idiot that’s not a cooking class!!! It’s an exercise class. You think I need a cooking class?”
Now that 2008 is upon us I look back upon 2007 and can honestly say it pretty much sucked.
Not in a tsunami destroyed the neighborhood kind of way but it just wasn’t as good as 2006.
2007 was not my favorite year, maybe because I turned 50 and have not fully embraced my mortality yet.
I did learn a few things though.
I learned that it is possible to pull a groin muscle simply by getting out of your car.
I learned that it’s dangerous to open a new
I learned after I had my colonoscopy that I could never be gay. But I now have unequivocal proof for my wife that my heads not up there.
I’ve also learned that I’m not a ballroom dancer.
I take that back.
I already KNEW I wasn’t a ballroom dancer I just never thought I’d have to PROVE it to anyone.
I would have thought my wife had learned that when I almost threw her out the window during her “disco” faze.
“Stayin alive, stayin alive, whoops…..”
Apparently one of those hot flashes fried the part of her brain that would have remembered that.
For those of you unfamiliar with a “hot flash” let me explain it for you.
You’ll go to bed with your woman by your side on a chilly night. As you drift off you feel the warmth of the covers around you and the heat radiating off of her body. It’s nice. It’s comforting. It’s peaceful.
IT’S F&%*&#G COLD!!!!!!!
What the hell happened?
She’s thrown off the covers.
She’s still asleep.
If you’re lucky.
Because if she has a “hot flash” while she’s awake you’re going to hear about it.
Menopause and hot flashes are much worse than the one week a month thing you used to have to be afraid of before.
Because now she has all the knowledge and experience to really know how to hurt you if you do something stupid, you know, like breathe.
You do not want to confront a woman about not wanting to ballroom dance or how crappy her cooking is while she’s in the middle of a hot flash.
So apparently I’m going to be the new star of “Dancing with the middle aged overweight Italian guy.”
And… I’m going to be hungry.
This year I’ve given up resolutions. Instead I’ve set goals.
Goal number one – Don’t get hurt ballroom dancing.
Goal number two – Don’t get hurt saying or doing anything that will piss off a menopausal Portuguese woman.
Goal number three – Lose weight, get in shape, blah blah blah……….
Goal number three never changes.
Maybe I should take a “fusion” class.
Happy New Year!
Happy New Year!