Tag Archives: boxing

Lucky vs. Everyone.

I love how this blog has turned into The Lucky & Gizzy Fit Club. Honestly, the two biggest sloths on this earth have given into society and its healthy, skinny ways, all for what? WHAT?

After my second boxing class last night, I’m completely addicted.

Yeah, I was pretty sore after my first class. In fact, when I woke up yesterday morning and my calves were still throbbing, I was wondering if I was going to be able to keep my promise of going to class last night. But I knew I couldn’t give in just yet.

So I went, and it actually made my sore muscles feel BETTER—weird. And punching that bag felt fucking amazing.

A lot of things have been grinding my gears lately. Things that probably shouldn’t. I blame that completely on anxiety, which in turn, sends my OCD into overdrive.

Things like…work meetings not starting right on the dot. Or, people arriving to meet me even one minute late. Traffic. The mailman. My coworkers. People not making plans. Or making plans and then not sticking to them. People wanting favors.

After weeks without talking to my boss, she stepped into my office the other afternoon and told me she is getting a divorce.

She said her marriage had been going downhill for sometime now, but she had just told her kids—a 16 year old son and a 9 year old girl.

She said while her daughter seemed to be taking things okay, her son was angry. She said her husband completely blamed her in front of their kids, turning the son against her.

While a divorce doesn’t excuse her unprofessionalism toward me in these last few weeks, I really felt for her. I told her I was 16 when my parents divorced, and although I don’t remember being directly upset about it at the time, I acted out, and was a brat.

So yeah. I’ve been trying to think of something nice me and my department can do for her…something that is nice but at the same time, appropriate for the occasion. For now, I just told her to let me know if she or her kids needed anything.

In other office news, Shyneesha and I have a mutual friend in the office, Ashley. Yesterday was Ashley’s birthday, and Shyneesha and I had been planning a little something for her for weeks. We wanted to decorate her office the night before (to surprise her on her birthday), bring her a Starbucks latte, take her to lunch, and give her a small gift.

Buttons, of all people, can relate to what’s coming next. It’s that scenario when a giant group is at a restaurant, and no one wants to split the check, they just want to give one person cash. WELL the person with the card ends up getting screwed.

So here we are. I went to get the gift, something small—$10. In return, Shyneesha was supposed to buy the balloons/decor for the office. Okay, so we go to get the decor…she picks out one $3 balloon and two plain balloons that were $1 each. Yet, when we checked out, she didn’t get charged for the two plain balloons.

Lucky: -$10

Shyneesha: -$3

So we decorate the office. And I say I’ll get the latte in the morning…wait…so she says she’ll get a card. Agreed.

So I go get a latte: $5

We arrive at work, surprise Ashley, and I notice no card.

So I’m out $15 while Shyneesha is out only $3. You see, the original plan was that she was going to go halfsies on the gift.


We had already agreed to split Ashley’s lunch. So we go eat, get the checks. And she pulls the famous line: “Oh you have a card? I’ll just give you cash.”

While Ashley’s check was only $11, I put it and mine on my card—$22, Shyneesha gave me $6, which I suppose is ok, although I left a $5 tip.

I’m not trying to be a cheapskate, but shit. Cut me some damn slack and at least do a courtesy, “are you sure we’re even here?”

People have no manners anymore. Which goes right back to my list of “things that piss me off”—being late, no manners, not making plans or following through with them, no manners.


On the dating front? Things have come to a NEAR halt. Remember Wes? He totally friended me on Facebook. Which…is all fine and dandy, but I’d much rather him just fucking text me and take me on a date.

Wes the Wuss?

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The source of all my troubles.

Remember when I told you guys I was anxious about my magazine meeting on Friday because I would have to see JB? Well I decided to do myself a favor and skip the damn thing. I just couldn’t do it to myself.

After a particularly long and exhausting week, I went home Friday evening a zoned out in front of the television and was asleep before 10. When I awoke around 1 am, I had a few texts from JB: No meeting today? Did you tell me you were going out-of-town? I tried my best to be on time and look presentable…

I replied, telling him I was in a bad mood and had just been very busy at my day job.

“Don’t worry about it. Just as long as you’re not mad at me.”

As you can see, the JB situation continues to be rather confusing, and will probably remain that way until we know each other better, or not.

I was talking with my mom on the phone over the weekend and she asked me about The Ex—where did he stand? Her question arose after I told her he kindly brought me Never Say Never last week. I told her a story that I realized I’d kept to myself…and it’s pretty important.

It was a little more than a month ago, The Ex was in town, doing some work on his parents’ home. On that Saturday night, he texted me to see what I was up to. I told him I had plans (ok, so they were to stay in and watch the Lifetime movie of Wills & Kate, but…). He said he was going to stay in and watch a movie with his parents. Ok, night night.

I went to sleep, and woke up, as I usually do, around 1:30. Minutes afterward, my phone buzzed with a text message. The Ex. “You still awake?”

I replied, saying I had just woken up. He wanted to come over.

“Did you go out?” I asked him, wondering why a night in with the parents would result in a near-2 am text message.

“To Bruce’s house.”

I told him he could come over. When he called to say he was near my place, he sounded a little buzzed. Once he got to my apartment, he said he’d be right up.

So, there I stood in the dark. Waiting.

When he wasn’t at my apartment five minutes later, I wondered if this whole thing was a joke. So I called him back.

“Yes I am here. I had to pee.”

“Umm, well I have a bathroom in my apartment, you don’t have to piss outside.”

He was drunk.

When he finally got to my door, he was holding a beer, and sporting a neon wristband.

“Oh, they’re giving out wristbands at Bruce’s house now?” I asked.

“I told you I went to the bar,” he said.

“No…you told me you went to Bruce’s.”

“I did…he’s out of town, I had to feed his dog.”

So that sparked a nice little fight with several layers—why was he in town, not making plans to visit anyone (especially me) and then lying. Lying about his plans, the bar, etc.

We paced around my living room, him wanting to know why I hated him so much, me telling him I was sick of the games, sick of being played. And then, his phone started ringing.

It was 3 am.

“Why is someone calling you at 3 am?” I asked.

“It’s probably an alarm….or it’s running low on battery.”

Lies. More lies. I marched over to the phone, still buzzing on my kitchen counter: BONNYE.

Bonnye is a girl The Ex dated before we met. Once I started sleeping with The Ex, Bonnye would show up at our bar during one of our bartending shifts, proceed to get wasted, and tell everyone that The Ex was her boyfriend.

Her parents own several bars in the city, including one where The Ex still works. She has been a constant source of worries for me, since day one.

“Why is Bonnye calling you at 3 am?” I asked.

He went through the usual bullshit—we’re still friends, nothing is going on, I don’t want her…she just got dumped a few days ago so we’ve been talking about it.

“Oh really? Why did she get dumped?” I asked.

“Umm I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me that.”

“You just fucking said you guys had been talking about the breakup.”

As we continued to fight, she continued to call. She called 15 times. I pressed “ignore” and she would call right back.

I’m sure you’re all saying I should have learned my lesson by now, but it was that moment that was more clarifying than perhaps any moment prior. All of the sudden, I saw it. He was keeping a pool of women at his fingertips, whether he likes us, loves us, hates us, whatever—he uses us for whatever reason. I was witnessing his lies unfolding, and it was proof he has an entirely other life that I’m no part of, knew nothing about.

Since then, I have felt a weird sense of anxiety—a need to push him, and others, away. I don’t know how I got so caught up in his mess.

But last night, I found a short sense of relief during my first ever boxing class. My instructor even wrapped my hands and everything.

The class hurt like hell. I realized just how out of shape I am. But while I was punching that bag, all I thought of was Bonnye. The Ex. All of my exes.

And it felt great.

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