Assertiveness rears its awesome head.

Lately, I've been overwhelmed by stress due to a day job that I'm not sure has ever completely fit me. Acquiring two new job titles with no more money has added to that stress. I've lived at home for almost a year and a half, and I have no vision of where I want to go or what I want to do. And I used to just do whatever anyone needed me to do, without question or protest, regardless of how swamped I was. In my personal life, I tried to make everyone happy, and ended up pretty much a drained husk of a person in my down time.

But yesterday, for the first time in a long time, I felt confident. Cool. Collected. And during a mostly male dominated stand up class, I was attempting to make a point about my routine when another comic interrupted me with his own opinion. Any other day, I would cede to that person and let them speak over me, and try to move back to my own point at a later juncture. But on this day, I was not having it. "Wait a second, let me tell you WHY I chose to do it that way instead of the way you're about to tell me to do it," I said, somewhat taken aback by the words that were coming out of my mouth and the vehemence that backed them. The funny boys surrounding me all lapsed into silence and stared, some with respect in their eyes, most with "What a bitch" written on their faces. Afterward, one of my pals in the class told me it was his favorite part of the whole class.

I don't want to be a bitch. I don't want to be a doormat either. I've spent a good portion of my adult life as just that. I'm gonna try to find the middle ground, and do for me what I should have done years ago-make sure that while I try to care for people I love, that I ensure that I am cared for as well. I will assert myself, more than I have in the past. And I will singe the eyebrows off of the next guy who tries to tell me what to do, who to be, or where I should direct myself in my life.

Maybe my time alone in New York helped me to realize that I am a strong, independent woman who can handle anything on her own. Maybe delving into the super masculine world of stand-up has finally allowed me to reach a new confidence level. Maybe adding responsibilities at work have created a new, super Lauren that will be able to conquer life with more vim and vigor.

And maybe I'm just a bitch. And maybe I'm ok with that.

Other New York Song Lyric Here.

After spending two hours at the Empire State Building, complete with solo elevator ride and kitschy souvenirs for the family, I stopped at a Starbucks to warm up, pee, and get some hot chocolate. Considering my next move, I remembered sage Tony telling me where everything was located on the grid that is NYC, so I just started walking. Bryant Park was directly ahead of me, so I hoofed it and bought a hat in the adorable kiosks they had set up surrounding the park. I sat watching the ice skaters, in warm sunshine, but realized that sitting on my laurels was not going to get sights seen. Right next door was the New York Public Library, so I swooped in and was able to enjoy an exhibit dedicated to the use of the written word throughout history. Score.

From there, I made my way to Grand Central Station. I've always seen it in films and thought that it would be so so in real life. It wasn't. The hustle and bustle of people running to actually catch trains, combined with the massive amount of tourists made this girl seek a restaurant with peace, quiet and great food...after a number of photos of the beautiful ceiling and the purchase of a book from the Grand Central book store. I headed out the front doors, and immediately recognized Pershing Square from a number of NY based films (I watch a lot of movies) and decided to head into the lush, wood paneled restaurant with brass fixtures. My book and I settled into a table for two, and I ended up ordering a chicken pot pie. A delicious hour later, I was sufficiently full and ready for more walking.

I thought that I was heading in the direction of Central Park, and only realized my folly when the street I was on dead ended into water. To my left, I saw a giant glass building with flags on the outside. Disappointed in myself and my lack of navigation skills, I pulled out my trusty iPhone and got directions to Central Park-about 20 blocks away. As I turned, I heard Tony's voice in my head, talking about the UN building THAT WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. COOL!

Turning around, I continued my walk back towards Grand Central, turning onto 5th and heading for the Park. I passed tourists, business men, kids, old people...people watching at it's height. I was walking with purpose, and almost passed a walkway cutting between two buildings that looked interesting to me...so, I crossed the street to check it out. I was at Rockefeller Center! WOW! I'm way better than I thought.

Continuing on, I gandered at St. Patrick's Cathedral, Trump Tower, and all sorts of amazing architecture on my way to the Park. I finally found my way to Central Park and headed in, not knowing where I was, where I was going, or what lay ahead of me.

I happened upon a visitor center and purchased a map of the Park. On my list of things to see were the Alice in Wonderland Statue and the Belvedere Castle. Again, I trusted my ability to read a map. I shouldn't have. After walking in circles for about an hour, I stopped at a coffee shop in the center of Central Park and asked directions, cause I'm a girl and I know when I'm defeated. He pointed me in the general direction, saying it was right next to the duck pond. There was a pond...with no ducks. But there was a Hans Christian Andersen statue, with an Ugly Duckling that was so adorable my face almost cracked from smiling at it for so long. And just up the way...Alice.

After taking pictures of this beautiful sculpture from every angle, I made my way to the Belvedere Castle. Footsore and chilled at this juncture, I decided to await Tiffany's arrival home at Little Brown, a chocolate themed coffee shop where I purchased a salted caramel hot chocolate that made my evening. My book and I waited patiently, and Tiff picked me up so that we could order some dinner in before I was to catch a cab to La Guardia. Deciding to nix dinner as I was full and slightly ill from 3 hot chocolates in one day, so we watched Party Down until I had to leave.

I walked a block from her apartment after our goodbyes, hailed a cab and had the cab ride from hell. The driver did not believe in staying in a lane for more than 5 seconds. At the tollbooth, he screamed at me in broken English for $6, when at the outset I told him I only had a credit card with which to pay for my fare. Speeding, he hauled it to the airport, jumped out, and threw my luggage out while my head was still spinning and my stomach churning from the toll road action. Checking in, I headed to security, where they picked the woman in front of me (with way too much perfume on for someone about to be trapped in tight confines with others) and myself for a random security check. We were forced into a clear booth with a lock on one end while our belongings lounged on the conveyor belt. I repeatedly saw my backpack and jacket get smashed between bins and other people's belongings as person after person passed by me. 10 minutes later, a security guard noticed me still in the plastic box of frustration, and swabbed my hands before telling me to leave.

WHAT THE EFF, LA GUARDIA?

Hungry now and thinking some sort of sustenance would keep me from barfing all over everyone. I settled into a barstool at the NY Sports Bar, and awaited service. 10 minutes later, the staff had still not looked at me, nor approached me for any kind of greeting, beverage, or even a go fuck yourself. Not feeling too wonderful and being a bit cranky, I grabbed my belongings and stormed out. Luckily, I was saved by a panini vendor, and ended up dining on an Italian panini, POP chips, and Sour Patch Kids. Not exactly the dinner of champions, but it kept me from killing everyone in my path.

I boarded the plane quickly, as it was not a full flight, and ended up seated on the aisle with a lovely elderly woman at the window of a three seat row. To my left was the woman with too much perfume. Nauseated again, I closed my eyes and counted. Moments later, the annoying allergy attack on legs complained to the stewardess that her light was not working, and was moved 5 rows ahead to a seat that worked. I breathed a perfume free sigh of relief, and grabbed my book out of my backpack to hopefully finish it by the end of the flight. The elderly lady had a small notepad out, and as I watched her she skillfully sketched the profile of a Hacidic man in the row parallel to us. It was beautiful to watch, and I mentally thanked this woman for bringing me back from the brink of animosity and hatred of my fellow man.

New York, New York!

Day three was a major sleep in day for me. Tiffany was up and at em at 7:30am, and I slept right through her preparations for the day and her slipping out of the apartment. At around 10:30, I roused myself, and not finding Tiffany, I decided to get ready for the day at my own pace. A text messag told me she was at the diner down the street, and that I should meet her whenever I was ready. Starved, I met her (sans shower and wearing my Batman tee) and imbibed coffee like it was my job, and ate enough for 4. With no real plans, we wandered over to Urban Outfitters, as I had a gift certificate I had yet to use that I'd had since June. After a long shopping expedition and a visit to the grocery, we headed back to her apartment. And napped.

For 5 hours.

Bleary eyed, we roused ourselves and headed for the showers, as we were supposed to meet her friend, Alex, for dinner at Smith and Wollensky's. Tiffany's phone rang, and it was Alex, cancelling due to a family situation. As she chatted with him, he let her know that dinner was still on, for us at least, and that we should head to the restaurant for a 7:30 reservation. Upon arrival, we were told that everything was already taken care of and that we should order whatever we wanted.

"WHAT IS HAPPENING?" my mind screamed, unused to this kind of treatment. But we were there, all dressed up with a fantastic menu in front of us, so we took advantage. Soup, wine, filet mignon, and dessert filled us to brimming when Tiffany got a message letting her know that a car would be picking us up in 15 minutes. We stood by the bar, chatting with a couple of older gentlemen before a white gypsy cab pulled up to the curb outside. Dropping us off and telling us that the tab was "all taken care of" we headed into the house, changed into pajamas and watched Party Down for a little while before going to bed.

Day Four
Woke up at 5:45am to shower before Tiff and I headed to her morning work out at Crossfit. My intent had been to join her over the weekend to keep up with my personal fitness goals, but with the walking and walking and walking I decided to sit this one out. I headed to a local coffee shop, grabbed a latte and waited. After she picked me up, we started walking towards the subway, and quickly realized that my goal for the morning, the Empire State Building, was the opposite way. I hailed a cab (such a New Yorker!) and we zipped through the streets until the gigantic edifice was within site. Paying the cabbie and overtipping as I am wont, I headed in to the building, Express pass that I had pre-ordered clutched in my hand in anticipation of long lines.

There was no one there.

I got to skip in front of 5 people in the pre-screening line, and joined an elevator full of people after paying 8 smackers for an audio guide voiced by Tony, an older gentleman with a rich family history based in NYC. As we headed up the building, the elevator attendant asked where we all hailed from. "England,"said the family of three at the back. "Turkey,"said the handsome male duo next to me. "Denmark," from the young couple across from me. "Florida," I squeaked, shrugging my shoulders. We all laughed together, people from around the globe with one goal on this chilly Monday morning-to see the city spread out beneath us from a breathtaking height while freezing our asses off.

I spent about 2 hours at the Empire State, taking photos and learning which buildings were which from Tony. Factoids like, "Chrysler was in a battle to raise the tallest skyscraper, and hid the spire in the building until his competitor finished building" and other tidbits. He pointed out where Central Park was, and Bryant Park...and basically all the sites that I would be seeing later that day.

After photo after photo, I searched for a friendly face to take a shot of me with the amazing view behind me. In desperation, I perched the camera on a window sill, set the timer, and stepped back. Noticing a lady inside laughing at me, I looked up at her...just as the shutter clicked closed. Here's the result.Class.

I want to be a part of it....

I'm drunk.

Day 2. (I know, I can't believe that was ALL for Day 1. Insane.)

I woke up later than expected, and Tiffany and I headed to Gracie Mews, a diner a few blocks away from her house, to meet her friend Teddy for brunch. After a great meal with the worst service ever, we all walked towards the Metropolitan Museum of Art, stopping at Alice's Tea Shop for a scone for later. After paying $1 to enter the magnificent museum, we headed to the Impressionist area where I swooned over paintings by my favorite artist, Claude Monet. My nerd side delighted in the works of Vincent Van Gogh (Doctor Who, anyone?) And Tiff and I stared at a Jackson Pollack for about an hour before deciding to go back to her house for some down time before Karaoke shenanigans and Upright Citizens Brigade that evening.

Karaoke was fun, if tinged with sadness at the passing of Whitney Houston, which was sent to every single persons smart phone at the start of the evening...except mine. My phone in NYC was technically useless. Tiffany had booked a private karaoke room in a little Korean bar, where the song selection was fantastic and the service shit-tastic. Her friends and Randi all showed up for the evening. We kicked things off with a little "Wanna Dance with Somebody"(which is an eerily accurate song for how I was feeling that night.) Typical karaoke shenanigans followed. We left the bar with 15 minutes to spare before the show at Upright started, and I was supposed to meet my cousin, Joseph, and his boyfriend, Ryan, before the show. We grabbed cabs for our group of 8, and barreled through the streets to make it on time for the hour long improv show.

Seated all the way in the back row, I could not even see the stage, with the giants in front of me blocking my view. But the show that UCB put on was hilarious even without the site gags. Using a Day in the Life type format, they took the tale of a Palestinian living with an Israeli on an exchange program and turned it into an hour long story that made me fall in love with their theater. Almost every team member had a strength to contribute to the show, and laughing along with my friends (and family) made it a memorable part of the weekend. It made me want to be part of a giant improv team again.

Afterwards, we realized that NONE of us had eaten anything and it was now almost midnight. Joe and Ryan took us to a small restaurant a couple of blocks away, and we took over the whole joint, eating burritos and guac while talking about our lives and catching up. Not satisfied with ending the evening there, Joseph told us that we should go get ice cream at the Big Gay Ice Cream, a food truck turned storefront. A giant closed sign greeted us, so we headed to Ace Bar, a loud, full to teeming bar with skeeball in the back room. Heading to the bar with Joseph, he convinced me to get a Manhattan. Armed with this potent concoction, I was feeling fine. 5 games of skeeball later, it was time to call it a night. Tiff and I grabbed a Gypsy cab, and hauled our butts back to her apartment. She leaned over and whispered to me, "He said it's $25 but we're only gonna give him $20. He knows it's not that expensive to get to where we're going." Confused, I handed her a $20 bill, and we hopped out of the car as fast as we could, power walking away from the black vehicle. Slightly tipsy, I was giggling as we went to cross the road and the cabbie yelled out, "You owe me $5, baby!" as he sped past us.

Ah. New York.

Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder...SLEEP NO MORE SPOILERS!

Strangely, when googling this image, I read that the 9 of Diamonds is known as the Curse of Scotland. Irony.

So. Sleep No More. Remember that picture of me in the weird white mask? We got that at the show. Here's how it went, with spoilers...so, for anyone wanting to participate in the event in the near future...stop reading. From Sleep No More's website: "Shakespeare’s classic Scottish tragedy presented through the lens of suspenseful film noir. Audiences move freely through a transporting world at their own pace, choosing their own path through the story, immersed in the most unique theatrical experience in the history of New York."

We hopped out of our cab and joined a long line of people at the door to a hotel. The outside of the building was spotted with graffiti, but as we moved up the line I realized it was consistently the same image-the outline of a man's face. A bouncer at the door ID'd us, and then sent us into a long dark hallway where we were required to check coats and purses. The coat checks recommended we take credit cards with us for the lounge area. Everything was dark, moody, but urgent. We then made our way to the front desk, which was arranged like an actual hotel counter. As we checked in, we received two playing cards, the 8 of diamonds for me and the 9 of diamonds for Tiffany. We were then directed into a dark hallway with a series of turns, and only candles placed in corners to illuminate our way. Grasping each others arms in expectation of a haunted house type scare, we allowed a couple to go ahead of us to gauge the experience. No screaming drifted back to us, so we continued on, still holding onto each other for safety and comfort. I'm pretty sure we squealed a bit anyway.

Curtains parted ahead of us, and we found ourselves in a lush, red velvet draped lounge. Normal people like us mingled with glamorous actors dressed in 1940's style clothing, all playing roles steeped in mystery and menace. A table at the front of the room, manned by young, gothic women offered champagne and shots of absinthe. I thought it would be a great idea to try this beverage that I had heard so much about but never experienced. We bought two shots, and settled into a table to await the next phase of our experience.

A striking man in a tux (Leopold) drolly called out for all guests who were carrying the 8 of diamonds to join him. I panicked, realizing that Tiffany and I were about to be split up. I looked around for any 9 of diamonds, and switched with a woman who preferred to go in by herself. Then the 9's were called.

We all were handed white masks and moved into a small room with no windows adjacent to an elevator. Our new guide, a beautiful woman with a black evening gown and ruby lips, explained that we were to wear the masks at all times, there was to be NO talking, and that the only "safe" zone in the hotel was the lounge we had just exited. We were all then herded into the elevator, the silence heavy and expectant. Our elevator attendant let small groups off at each of the 5 floors that were utilized in this massive, intense and detailed performance.

Tiffany and I exited the elevator together, and were immediately enveloped in a film noir-esque home environment that spanned the whole floor. We were busy looking at the decor, noticing little details and figuring out what was going on when movement caught our attention. The actors/dancers/spooky people who make up the cast blend into the scenery and then explode into choreographed movement that is this company's interpretation of the story of Macbeth.

It was INTENSE. Tiffany and I were separated at a couple of points, when she saw a character moving in one direction and I noticed another walking determinedly in the other. At one point, she was in a room and as I was about to step in, the character I was following turned and slammed the door in my face. We ran after people, up stairs and down, and to be honest, after walking all day and a little bit of alcohol, I had sweat pouring off of me and I was panting, ready for a rest. What seemed like hours later, we ended up back in the lounge, where a band was accompanying a beautiful woman with a voice reminiscent of Billie and Ella. We plopped into an abandoned booth, and Tiffany went to chat with our emcee, the handsome tux wearing chap. I closed my eyes and tried to collect myself. I was ready to go home. I felt someone slide into the booth next to me, and opened my eyes to greet my friend. She was still standing by Leopold. It was our female guide.

Out of sorts, I stammered hello. She looked at me through her false eyelashes, and in a husky, dramatic voice asked me if I was in love. I laughed explosively, saying, "No" a bit too emphatically. "Do you want to be in love?" she asked, almost purring. "Umm. I guess it might be nice," I answered, not really sure where this was going. "What do you look for in a man...or woman...which do you like?" was her response. "Oh, most definitely men." She stared at me. After a moments hesitation, she muttered, "I think you will find love. Soon. I feel it will happen for you. A true love. A good love."

As this was the second time on this very day that I had had someone ask me about this specific subject, and had the very same response, I felt an eerie sense of something bigger than myself in play. Maybe I was supposed to be in New York. Maybe this year is the year. And I'm not talking about romantic love specifically, but maybe a more cosmic kind of love. A universal love. Positivity coming from the ether.

Or maybe that was the absinthe talking.

Catlady told us that we should head to the ballroom for a surprise. The surprise was...well. I'll keep it a surprise. But I'll hint at it with the joke, "No NOOSE is good NOOSE." It wasn't good noose.

More to come on the NYC adventures. If you care. :)

I'm leaving today...

Day one of the trip to NYC started with a subway ride with Tiffany to Union Square. She recommended that I hang out there for a while, as there were shops, a green market, and loads of food options for me. I wandered aimlessly, checking out statues and searching for a breakfast locale that was not a chain I could dine at back home. I gave up and headed to Whole Foods, where I got a bagel and a latte, and started texting Randi, a friend from back home who lives in Brooklyn. She agreed to meet me in Union Square, and I settled in to write. I got one or two good jokes down, and met with Randi outside in the 30 degree weather. She took one look at my almost empty latte and said, "Let's go get you a real coffee." Yay, New Yorkers! We grabbed a cup of joe at Joe Coffee, a hip, fun shop that made me realize that there are sexy baristas everywhere in NYC.

Randi guessed that I wanted to see a few sites on my first day, so we walked to Washington Square, saw a guy setting up a portable piano, meandered past NYU and Cooper Union, stopped at a Vegan bakery and St. Mark's bookstore, then headed towards where I was supposed to meet Tiff for lunch. On the way we passed the Flatiron building, popped into Eataly, a gigantic Mario Batali created fresh food market, and caught up on each others lives. She had to hop a train back to Brooklyn for a going away party, so we planned to meet for dinner that night with Tiffany.

With an hour or so to kill, I parked my near frozen, footsore butt in a Think Coffee House. As I approached the counter, the hipster boy at the register asked what he could get for me. I told him to surprise me. He recommended a Spanish Latte, that combined fair trade espresso with condensed milk and cinnamon. HOW DID HE KNOW ME SO WELL?!?!? More writing, with more contemplation and caffeination to come.

I met Tiff at work and we headed over to a small, hole in the wall Puerto Rican restaurant. We proceeded to stuff ourselves silly on plantains, black beans and rice, and for me-shredded beef. Full to brimming, we parted ways and I decided to then walk towards Tiffany's recommendation for dessert, a little joint called Milk and Cookies. Tiffany had waxed poetic about the fresh cookies and dipped ice cream sandwiches, and though I was full, I wanted to take advantage of my time in NYC. I stepped into the cute shop, which only held two other occupants and the lady at the register. I use the term lady loosely. I approached the counter with a smile on my face, but cranky "lady" was not happy to see me. "What do you want?" she asked, lip curled. "Ummm. Uhh. The Penguin," I stammered, looking at the board and picking one that would be least likely to overwhelm my taste buds or kill me (most had nuts in them.) "Which one?" she asked, as if she did not even know her own menu. "Umm. Uhh. The double chocolate with vanilla. T-t-hanks." She slapped it together, and I took the remaining table to enjoy the treat. The other two people left, and it was just me, alone with Surly Shirley. There was an issue with her coffee machine, and she kept attempting to reach behind her espresso machine to unplug it, but her ample bosom was not allowing her to get her arm far enough back. Said bosom also turned on the milk steamer not once, not twice, but three times in her attempts. Internally, I was laughing at her steamed boobs. Externally, I was annoyed by her litany of curses. So, I took my sandwich and left. I threw it away after a couple of bites, as it didn't taste as good with the bad taste in my mouth from the experience.

I walked down Bleecker Street, as a good friend loves it. Then I walked back towards Tiff's workplace. I parked it in a wine and crepe bar, a glass of Merlot in my hand. My feet were on fire, and my cheeks were frozen. We met up, grabbed some hot chocolate, and then went to dinner at Marble Lane. Tiff has a friend who works at this restaurant, which also has ties with her company. Randi met up with us, and we sat down to a gigantic meal (I got crab cakes and Filet Mignon...and had a glass of Malbec.) Randi headed home, and Tiff and I hopped in a cab that took us to our next destination-Sleep No More NYC. And that will require a blog of it's own.

Start spreading the news....

I'll explain this later.

All right. If you follow me on the face pages you know that I absolutely fell in love with New York. It was the best 4 days of this year (and as we're only at February 15th, that's pretty good!) This may be a boring blog about me on vacation, but you should read it. It's gonna be really good. Maybe. I dunno. I haven't had much sleep and have consumed way more alcohol than I probably should have in the short amount of time I was gone...and yesterday, as it was Valentine's Day and that's what we singles do.

A little background. My friend, Tiffany, has been badgering me to visit her in NYC. But, with trips to LA for conventions and family vacations taking up my precious time off, I had never gotten around to it. In a previous blog, I mentioned that another friend of mine was starting to mark things off of her bucket list, and I (on a whim which is how I live my life these days) decided to book a flight to New York, so that I could mark that off of my list. As I clicked the confirm button on my JetBlue order, I knew that it was going to be a life changing event, one that I desperately needed. I planned it for the weekend before Valentine's Day. I'm single, so felt this would be a gift to myself...much healthier than chocolate.

The week prior to the trip was crazy. Work blew up, my legs were wrecked from working out, and I was out of sorts. The big day came and I was stuck at work until 4:00pm, with my flight leaving at 5:30pm. Rushed drive to the airport, quick goodbye to my mom and I was paying $2 for my luggage. Nice. Hopped aboard, and was offered Popcorn Chips as a snack. Nice again.

I nearly ran from the plane to set foot in a city that has always called to me. Baggage came out quickly, was 2nd in line for a cab and barked street names in a cool, New York way that I had been mentally rehearsing for most of the flight. We zigged and zagged, and I looked out the window at a perfectly full moon bracketed by the steel and stone girders of a beautiful bridge. This was gonna be great!

I got to Tiffany's place, and paid the cabbie. My not so little duffel, backpack from my UWP days, and my bright orange pea coat surely screamed TOURIST to passersby. I called my friend, and there was no answer. She was on the subway, heading towards me and her home, but I did not know that. I panicked for a moment, then told myself that I am a grown woman so there was no need to panic. Duffel, backpack, pea coat and I headed down the block to a diner with flashing neon lights and Greek waiters who were more than generous with their attention and their compliments. I ordered breakfast for dinner, and awaited my friends arrival. I was in New York City, sitting in a booth in a diner, and sipping decaf. This was going to be great.

ARRRGHHHHH!!!

This message brought to you by my day job.

That is all.

Bullying is for all ages!

I was bullied last night, and I'm still cranky about it. I'm 30 years old, for crying out loud. I should be able to assert myself in situations when I feel like I am being picked on unnecessarily. But I felt out of my element, and basically just allowed this woman and another to verbally and physically push me around. I was picked on a lot in middle school, to the point where I wanted the world to just end. But I'm not that scared little girl anymore. And now, I'm just mad.

As most of you know, I've been going to a boot camp for the last 5 weeks, and it has been great. I'm being challenged physically, and I've lost 6 inches from my waist, which is fantastic. I felt so great about it that I decided to sign up for another month. This week has been hard, as I'm still having issues breathing and typically have to puff on my inhaler a few times, and recently started having intense pain in my shins. Shin splints. Yay. So, I wasn't feeling so great when I walked in yesterday and found out we were doing a team workout.

After a rowing warm up and a series of calisthenic exercises to warm us up, we were split into groups based on numbers. I was the first of the 5's, so held my hand up. 4 other ladies joined me, as well as bully and her daughter, who was maybe 13 years old. As everyone walked up, I jokingly said, "We should call our team Ovary-actors." Bully looked at me with a peeved expression and, disdain dripping from her words, said, "Why?" "It was just a joke, "I stammered, shocked that someone who I had just met was giving me such an awful attitude. "Well, we're all bitches so I say we should be the Sick Ass Bitches, " she grunted, punching one hand into another. I looked at the 13 year old, shocked that she would be using this kind of language in front of a kid. Noticing my glance, she snarled, "That's my daughter. She's heard worse."

Now keep in mind that this is a TEAM workout. Where we're supposed to be working TOGETHER. Now all of the girls on the team are looking at me like I'm a major schmuck bag, and I feel butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Granted, they may be looking at me like a schmuck bag due to the fact that I'm wearing a t-shirt that has two penguins looking at each other, a heart between them with the saying, "Melt hearts, Not Ice Caps," on it. But I digress.

The first activity our team is required to do in three minutes is to throw 12 pound medicine balls against the wall, step aside and have the person behind us catch the ball, squat, and then throw. And on and on down the line. I was 4th out of four in one of our lines. The girl in front of me had no aim, and no height, so I was hanging back to see where the ball was going to go. It went wildly to the left on one toss, and I ended up dropping it on the ground, forcing our team to have to do 3 burpees (where you drop to the floor in a plank position, then bring your feet to your hands, then jump in the air.) My bad. Another girl on my side told me I needed to scoot up, then proceeded to PUSH me towards the wall. Uh uh. No, she didn't.

My rage continued through the next several exercises. I didn't say anything, as we were supposed to be there to workout, sweat and work hard. I did my best, and that's all I can say. But that Sick Ass Bitch better watch out, cause the next time I may not be held back by asthma, shin splints, and nausea. No, I won't resort to violence. I won't name call, and I won't return her poor behavior with mine. But, I can aim my overexertion inspired vomit towards a certain persons shoes. And I had salad for lunch.