road to lesbianism.

so dig this, all the sudden i'm practicing to become a lesbian. (those who know me may find that amusing, those who don't i'm sure are deeply offended. which is a strong way to start to a new blog. offend right off the bat. then surprise you with a nice tickle pink later).

so why the road to dikedom? (again, offended) let's take me, i don't have a good self perspective, but through someone elses eyes i can imagine i am a person in fashion (because i am), that runs around town to a variety of ponyshow events and etc dolled up; that i may be more concerned with the seasons new accessory than spitting blood. now, throw that girl in a blender, add a mountain bike, some tools, and boxing gloves.

i started biking to the studio (let's all take bets on how long that'll last) and started boxing.

why? because my previous gym, 24hr fitness, lied nefariously about my "lifetime" gym membership that i paid GADS OF money upfront for - (lifetime apparently in this case meant TWO ENTIRE YEARS wow) - so i set out looking for a new cardio adventure.

there's a boxing gym a block from my studio. and by boxing gym i don't mean a cutey poo yoga slash pilates studio that has a kickboxing classes on tuesdays. i mean a dirty teardown with two rings, a bunch of bags, sweat infused air generated by teams of men accustomed to beating on things repeatedly. nach! right.at.home. later i find out this also just happens to be an infamous gym, owned by freddie roach and the home gym of the world champ manny pacquiao. goodness. freddie roach is the coolest. he's so genuine. it's awesome. and gets me up early. since i own my own business sometimes i roll in circa 10.30a.m., now i'm up at 6.30a.m. that's called a revolution.

but that wasn't enough. i've been mulling over the idea of biking to work for a while. LA is *not* an ideal bike around city. it's *not* an ideal public transport city either. it's notoriously auto-bound. (see the film Chinatown as per why. those dirty douchebags).

i'd been too chicken to bike, fretting over becoming the next fresh road kill. sunday i was going to buy a bike regardless, but my adopted grandma Jacque insisted i take her's that's been dust collecting for years (more on her later, she's a tall glass of riot). this bike is a clunker, but i road it 6.30am. on monday to boxing then work. on the way home (cherry on chick on chick top) i stopped by the bicycle kitchen for ladies night. the bicycle kitchen is this awesome LA non profit where (donation basis) you can stop in and learn to fix your own bike. they have loads of tools and volunteer teachers etc. and it was ladies and transgender only night. i changed my own cables, tuned the brakes and generally acted tough and stupid (not so good at it yet), leaving with elbow grease, and a stink that can only be described as teenage footballer, post game.

:*) gross yet? naaa, not you!

so. let's all take bets on how long this biking to work concept will hold - the winner will get to choose between a belt from the collection (see www.thejackrabbitcollection.com, or see us on www.shopbop.com, www.bloomingdales.com) or you can have my book Ninja Chick sent to you.
doubters beware, you will only be the fuel i'll feed on to keep going. so bet up darlings, mama wants to loose a few.

xo-mo



Mollie vs. Manny