Wednesday, April 18, 2007

I'll show you my power, Bitch

I've had this sort of weird, pinching pain in my abdomen for most of the day today, and what bothers me most about it is that I can't decide if it's from the kickboxing class I attended yesterday or if it can be attributed to any of the food products of questionable origin that I ingest on a regular basis. I'm pulling for the kickboxing explanation, but really you just never know.

The kickboxing class is a new addition to my routine. My gym canceled the Bosu class a while ago, leaving me with nothing to do with my Tuesday lunch hours but see what conniving schemes Sami and Chelsea are up to while I pump away on the Elliptical for a half hour or so. Recently, however, they've added a mid-day kickboxing class to the schedule, so I decided to check it out. It's been one of those "sore in muscles I didn't know I had" sort of experiments, which I think is probably a good thing overall. What's surprised me, however, is my response to the instruction style of this particular class. Our leader in this kickboxing endeavor seems to think that the best way to get us pumped and energized is to focus our efforts as though we have an actual enemy in mind. "WHERE ARE THOSE STRONG ARMS!?!" she shouts. "GET HIM!! HE'S RIGHT THERE! SHOW HIM YOUR POWER!!" she commands. A few months ago, I might perhaps have had a specific target in mind, ready to pummel my imaginary foe with all the strength in my girly biceps. Now, however? I don't know what's up with me, but I'm somehow in this Zen state of "Life's good, man; why you gotta rain on my parade?" I roll my eyes at the imaginary antagonism she invokes, thinking, "OK, fine; I'll give it all I've got. But I don't really need to punch anyone in the face to get me moving." Honestly, I think Eat Pray Love has something to do with it. Despite how long that book's been in my sidebar, I am digging it beyond any in recent memory. It's inspiring in so many ways, and letting go of all that nags at me is only one of the many things it's been teaching me.

I don't mean to imply that I'm pure and good and unshakable in all ways, however. Rest assured that my resident passive-aggressive surly streak is still well intact, without a doubt. Case in point? The parking lot at said aforementioned gym. On busy days, all spots in the gym's lot are occupied by suburbanites' SUVs and minivans and the occasional sensible vehicle or two. When this happens, the logical solution is to overflow into the adjacent clinic lot, a mere 30 feet plus a grass-covered median away from the gym's own and proper spots. The decidedly lazy among my fellow gym patrons, however, have decided that 30 extra feet is simply too much too endure, and thus, they park their cars in the no-man's land that is the brief connecting strip between the two lots instead.

During the winter months, when snowbanks presented even more of an obstacle between these two locales, the gym planted orange warning cones, designating the in-between space as a "Do not park here" zone. Now that the snow has melted and the sun in shining, however, it seems we are on our own.

I cannot explain why it irritates me so severely to see someone parked in the non-space between these two lots. Sure, it makes traversing the area a bit more difficult, as my visibility is impaired somewhat. But it's not exactly a high-traffic zone, so it really shouldn't affect me so adamantly. I think it's just the principle of the matter. I am a goody-goody and a rule-follower, after all, particularly when the rules mean minimal inconvenience on my part. To park in a properly marked and legal spot means walking a mere 30 feet beyond your expected path. Considering these people are at the gym, presumably to work out, should this really be such an inexcusable inconvenience in any way?

So the other day, when I saw a rude lazy-ass in that non-spot between the two lots, I decided someone really needed to be put in their place. I scrawled a note on the memo pad I keep in my glove compartment, fully intending to place it beneath a windshield wiper as my stern reprimand...

Seething Reprimand

I fully intended to place this note on the offender's windshield... but then I saw a surly teenager coming towards me as a witness... and I noticed the mock-chainlink license plate frame and the barbed wire screenprinted seat covers inside the offending car... and suddenly I remembered that I am one part vigilante justice-seeker and three parts 'fraidy-cat chicken-shit. So I folded the note into my pocket, destined for no end-point other than my new Birthday Scanner, through which I can share my timid passive aggression with the Internets instead.

If the illegally parked lazy-ass happens to be among the microscopically small part of the Twin Cities population reading my blog, however? Then consider yourself warned, motherfucker.

There. I feel better now. Really I do.


Maliavale said...

Wow! A note to an offensive parker that never saw the light of day, scanned in and blogged. This is a new one. Congratulations.

I want to read that book, now.

-R- said...

Hey, not all suburbanites are bad!

I like the note and think you should have used it, not that I would have been brave enough to leave it myself.

Noelle said...

That's so funny, I was just going to write about parking at the gym last night! It was super busy, so people in cars were waiting for gym-goers to pull out of their close-to-the-door spots, rather than just driving the extra few feet to get to the back lot.

I mean, if you're going to the gym anyway, wouldn't it be even better to get the extra walk in there? I didn't think to write a note, though. And I would have been too chicken to put it on the windshield, even if there wasn't a teenager watching!

NancyPearlWannabe said...

Exactly! What on Earth are you going to the gym for if you can't walk 30 feet to the entrance? I feel the same way about parking lots in general, though- the people that hover around the front just waiting for that super spot irritate me. You could already be inside the building, people, if you just walked for 20 seconds!

beingmccrary said...

That's awesome. That made me laugh. :)

Darren McLikeshimself said...

Well, I admire you for alomst doing something about the situation. I would have done the exact same thing. And by "done," I mean "not done."

Poppy Cede said...

Pleeeeeeease tell me you're going to leave that note in your gym bag so you can whip it out for the next time this happens! You really need to leave it on a car. It's deserved.

If you don't dare to then please hand it over to me and I will gllllllladly do it for you.

L Sass said...

I am constantly checking "road rage" like that ESPECIALLY tourists who stand across the entire width of the sidewalk to chat, gawk or look at their maps! After I check the urge to yell at them and pass by, I think to myself "Wow, you are a bad person!"

If I could just leave them a nasty note, though, I probably would!

nabbalicious said...

Ha! I love it. That is SO something I would do, right down to noticing the teenager and thinking better of it.

Single Jen said...

Ah, kickboxing. This used to be a regular part of my life. It's a great workout, but you will surely feel it in every muscle of your body. Generally, I cannot lift my arms the next day. I didn't have the army-esque instructor though. Mine was a singer. And she sang LOUDLY with ever single song. In my ear.

I've got those gym-bitches that park in all kinds of no-parking zones and they never get in trouble. Irritates the shit out of me. I think they should have a parking lot monitor.

lizgwiz said...

Beautiful! But you were probably right not to actually leave it.

On the way into a store, I once left a note on the car next to me, asking if they'd mind telling me where they got their seatcovers ('cause I'd been looking for some like them), and before I got back out of the store one of the employees walked up to me all "Someone told me you put a note on my car. WHY DID YOU PUT A NOTE ON MY CAR?!" She calmed down once I explained, but it was a little scary for a minute there. I have NO idea who saw me put the note on the car and ran to tell her--I didn't see anyone in the parking lot.

I'll never do that again.

Blitz Krieg said...

I used to have a stack of 8x10 sheets of paper with Mickey Mouse on it flipping the bird. Under Mickey it said, "Thanks for parking so close to me asshole. Next time leave a fucking can opener so I can get in my car."

Sometimes I miss my anger.

stefanie said...

Malia--You should definitely read that book. It is fabulous.

R--I never said all suburbanites are bad; I just said most of them drive ridiculously large vehicles!

Noelle and NPW--Exactly. Glad you can relate.

BMC--Good. It's nice when I can find something amusing in the things that aggravate me no end. :-)

Darren--Ha. But you would have seethed inwardly about it just like me, right? (And turned around and blogged about it immediately thereafter?)

Poppy--Are you going to come to my gym?? Yay! I hope you find me and say Hi. :-)

L Sass--You could always HAND them a nasty note and high-tail it out of there! You would just be helping to enhance their tourists' experience by reinforcing the ridiculous and unfounded stereotype that all New Yorkers are rude! :-)

Nabb--You and I think alike yet again.

SJ--It is now two days later and it totally hurts to lift my arms, so yes, I know exactly what you mean!

Liz--I think it's hilarious that you left a note asking about someone's seat covers. Did you leave contact information so they could follow up with you? Also, to the store employee... wow, man; lighten up!

BK--Where did your anger go? I'm sure you could channel it again. Also, I have often thought of ordering the "Urban Asshole Notification Cards" from Glarkware specifically for situations like this. Perhaps you should get some too.

Red said...

" part vigilante justice-seeker and three parts 'fraidy-cat chicken-shit."

Priceless! Is it kickboxing like Billy Blanks taught us once upon a time?

Feeling better?