Seriously?!

Traitorous Organ

Last night went to leadership class. I'd been wondering since Friday how CPI's talk with MGK went. I've run through a million senarios in my head where I ask him about it and we have another wonderful conversation like we did on Thursday night.

I walk in, give him a chipper greeting and get a terse hello and barely a glance. Suddenly, I hate him and I'm embarassed that I talked so free with him on Thursday night. What did I say? Did I make an ass out of myself? Did I have a boogie lurker or a piece of food on my face the whole time? God, I am such a FOOL!!!

I don't have too much time to worry about it though. Mrmoore made us do pushups until we bled from the nose. And then he made us do some more. Then CPI, in his most sadistic moment ever, made us do dips and decline pushups. There was a point where my shoulder felt like it was being wrenched from the socket. By the end I was sweating icy cold from every pore in my body and about to cry.

I couldn't even sleep last night, because every time I rolled over to my left side my shoulder hurt so bad it woke me up.

Anyway, I decided not to stay for a second class after that. I went home took a painkiller and showered, changed clothes and I took my one piddly box over to the place. Then I stopped back by the school to pick up Tiff to take her to see the new townhome. She was the only one in class.

CPI asked me if I wanted to come out onto the mat with them and make something sore. Immediately I thought of 4,379 ways to make things sore and they all involved just me and him and very little clothing.

Instead I say, "No, sir. If I'd have wanted to do that, I'd have come to class."

While Tiff is running through To San a couple more times, he sits down on the bench and we chat breifly about the new place, smalltalksmalltalk, and then outdoor cinema comes up. We're showing Monty Python Holy Grail on Saturday night and I mention going to see it.

"Who are you going with?" he asks.

"Probably just me," I said. All my friends will already be working there.

"Can I go?"

I'm surprised. "Uh, yeah, sure. It starts at 9-9:30."

"OK. Call me."

"Call you?" I ask. "Why don't you just show up? I'm going to be there. Why should I call you?"

He gives me a frustrated scowl. Why are you making this so damn difficult? "Just call me, OK?"

"Alright," I said. "Do you need 24hours notice, too?"

"Maybe," he said.

I roll my eyes. "You're such a prima donna."

The disgusting thing is my heart is going like a freight train the whole time. Stupid traitorous organ.