Guess what I did yesterday? Anybody? That's right! I spent all day filming a Turbo Kickboxing exercise video. You heard me right. I was asked to be in an exercise video. Ah huh, that's right. I'm bad-ass.
Those close to me know that I am part of a cult called Turbo Kick because I have fallen under the hypnotic spell of its leader, Cheerleader on Crack ,seen to the left. She's. Too. Powerful. She is too bubbly. Too nice. Usually I hate bubbly and nice, but she mixes it with a crazed passion for what she does and the ability to make you feel special. And I just want to crawl onto her teeny, tiny little lap and say, "Tell me how special I am again, Cheerleader on Crack!" She's like the Barbie version of Richard Simmons. You see how he makes people weep and pledge their alliance to their dying day? Well, we card-carrying members of the Turbo Kick Cult would do the same for her.
I immediately judged COC when I first met her because she is the most adorable little piece of Orange County perfection ever. And because I'm judgmental. But after one really hard class, I realized she was the most kick-ass teacher quite possibly in the world. She’s a teaching genius. She had me at "THREE MORE!". She's the type that will pinpoint the one shy grandma who's had a shitty day, and she'll say, "Great energy, Mildred!" She just knows your name like a Jedi master training us for a Cheerleader On Crack Tournament. The first time she called out my name -- when I used to stand in the back of the class for fear of getting round-housed by the first-chair kickboxers -- I was floored. I was like, Did she just say my name? That's weird. "I love you," I mouthed back. I feel bad still calling her Cheerleader on Crack. Just kinda stuck. And if by freak chance you're reading this, COC, PLEASE DON'T TAKE MY MEMBERSHIP CARD AWAY!
I've been taking her classes on and off for years now. She has asked me to do a video before because I apparently, "stand out." That's because when we're doing the "speed bag" portion of the class, I'm all doing some Beyonce move and air-slapping an imaginary ass in front of me. Hey, she said Go For It. This is another reason I love her class. She encourages us to free our inner dancing machine and thinly masks it as "kickboxing." Some of the poor, stiff women in class seem so ashamed to move their bodies. I'm like, Free Yourself, Mildred. Shake what your mother gave you and what your father told you to be discrete about - LET IT OUT. Speaking of prudish, I turned down COC the first time she asked me to be in her video. I was like, "Uh, I gotta work and further more I'll freeze up like a huge dildo in front of a camera and also I'm so hot in my mind, I don't want to ruin that by documenting otherwise on video . . .and uh, I'm sorry I said dildo." But this time I said yes because, really, why say no to shit like that?
First I’d like to report how goddamn exhausting this whole video-making process is. Do you know what it takes to make an hour exercise video? I was there for ten hours and I’m not joking when I say that I worked out for five of those hours. By the end, my mood alternated from a blubbering, aching mess to an endorphin-crazed lunatic. I was running on fumes. I was close to hallucinating. The production crew was hilarious, from the neurotic director to the rad camera men to the fantastic, leopard-print clad make-up artists to my favorite, the cunty PA’s. What is it with uber hip LA women that sport Drab Chic? I’m not feeling the stick figures with the grey-pale skin and the beige stringy hair with their affected, shitty attitudes. These bitches would look at us with disgust, lip curled, eyebrows raised and say, “That’s SO not going to work” meaning our outfits (I hope). And then they’d kibitz together like we DIDN’T HAVE EARS. I, of course, did that all day with the other kickboxers. “Uh, Patti, that is SO not gonna work because you’re lame, ok?” The mockery made the others feel better when they started to feel crushed by the PA’s. The other reason I hated these biatches was because they said to COC, “We’ve decided we’re gonna dress and act like you one day next week.” (They laughed and looked at each other) And COC said, because she’s fully aware of her personality, “Oh, you’re gonna be bubbly and wear half tops and military belts and trucker hats?” The PA’s said, “Yea,” giggle, giggle. I almost washed off my make up, added Crisco to my hair and said while looking like I hated life, “Guess who I’m going be?” Apparently, I’m just as bitchy, but I don’t wield my bitchy powers for sport. I use my powers for good, not evil -- aah, let's face it, I'm in the same league as them, but NOBODY calls her Cheerleader on Crack but me!
I have to say I’m not really looking forward to seeing the finished video. We were told repeatedly by COC and the director to smile, SMILE and MORE ENERGY and of course the very popular, Let’s Do It Again . . . and I am convinced that I will look like a complete idiot on film. Like, maybe the PA’s judgment was on-point. Incidentally, I was the biggest girl there. I wish I was joking. Most of the women were very petite and buffed even though this video was supposed to be the “real-person” video, made with real students. Let’s just say, I was really keeping it real
Leather, Leather Everywhere
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