I figured that if I was going to be spending a month or two in Boston before my departure for who knows where, I’d try to adopt a spirit of healthy living. And I figured, too, that I wanted to go kick ass, because kicking ass is awesome. So I signed up for Taekwondo.
The first thing I discovered when I got to the Taekwondo Dojo (Is it a “dojo” in Tae Kwon Do? I don’t know. I’ll have to ask.) was that there’s a strict no shoes policy. This is nice, as I like to be without shoes. And it was lucky, since I’d taken a shower immediately after work today. So my feet didn’t stink. Which made the whole thing possible. Because, frankly, if my feet had stunk, I would’ve been self-conscious and bailed on the whole thing immediately. As in, “Oh, Taekwondo master, you want me to walk into your pretty wife’s office with my stinky feet and fill out a registration form? I think I left something in my car. I’ll be right back.”
Of course, I would not have been right back at all. That was the joke.
So my feet smelled like roses, and I filled out the registration form, and the taekwondo master’s pretty wife asked me why I only wanted to sign up for a month, and I said something like, “You know, stuffs and things and who knows where I’m going to be, and on and on.” She smiled and nodded. Probably thinking, “This kid’s a moonbat,” but I didn’t care. She asked me to stand up so she could get an appraisal of my size for a uniform, came back and had me try one on. I did so. She said, “Too small!” and went and got another one. It fit like a glove. The kind of glove that fits. And so we wrote my name in English and Korean on the collar, and now I’m officially a white belt, or whatever the fuck.
This is going to be awesome.