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Thursday, November 09, 2006

Slam

Well, I mused while washing the blood off my hands when I got home, that didn't go as expected.

* * *

There's been a couple of psychic 'markers' in my life that I keep getting bugged by, if you delightful viewers will forgive my airy-fairy manner once more. One is to keep getting tested for diabetes because I just know I am going to be one at some point. Another is to learn some self defence before I'm mid-thirties as it will be needed (no more details, just 'it will be needed'). There's one or two other ones, but I shan't bore you with future fashion mistakes to avoid. It's more fun otherwise.

Well, it turns out there's a group of Gentleman Who Can't Catch who gather together a few days a week to do jujitsu. Who, one supposes, I should really call Gentlemen Who Can Throw. Fair viewers, I thought it'd be a good thing, and possibly a laugh as - lets face it - I've had more than my fair share of tossing gentlemen callers over my shoulder in the past, so it's sort of a busman's holiday for me. And I would learn something about the jujitsu slap! The chinese burn, and the devilish mussing of the hair!

So picture the scene, first time there. Everyone else in their fetching white robes, looking like the clientele outside a Hilton Hotel when the fire alarm had gone off. Me in black trackie bottoms, hands currently around a lesbian's throat.

It may have been all part of the move she was showing me - how to get out of a stranglehold - but I have to say I felt very, very uncomfortable about putting my hands around a woman's windpipe. Dear viewer, one does hope that you've never had to be in this position. Maybe you have, or maybe you will: perhaps you've been trapped in a cable car with Keira Fucking Knightly, or will happen to be at a bake sale where any or all of the Pussycat Dolls had been within arms reach and you and felt like doing humanity a favour. But as I had my nicely manicured digits around that (admittedly quite boyish) lass, one did feel an odd, instinctual pang of self-loathing.

That was until she punched my solar plexus and rammed my jaw upward, twisting my right arm behind my back and forcing me to the mat with a cheery 'hai!' that is. Goodness, one doesn't want to get in your way for the last of the Birkenstocks, I almost said. But thought better of it as I was now in a position that she could clearly break my arm. See? Respect power if you must; but never underestimate a Sturdy Lady who can punch properly. They tend to be very angry.

* * *

I got told off for swearing on the mats.

You have to respect the dojo, I was told. Bow to your sensai, wipe your feet, respect at all time. And no swearing. Which is when I discovered that people were taking it Very Seriously. There was no sissy slaps, and no-one sniggered about the tossing. It wasn't gay at all! So I decided to buckle down and take it seriously.

Then rammed my foot back too far on my forward fall and ripped off my big toe-nail on my left foot.

Blood everywhere. Despite being, what we all agreed, to be the gayest injury ever. And I apologise to my sensai for yelling 'Fuck!' on the mats again. I think he forgave me this time.

* * *

Well, I mused while washing the blood off my hands when I got home, that didn't go as expected.

8 comments:

Nick said...

OUCH!!!

I hate toenail injuries. It's almost as bad as having your teeth knocked out.

No open-toed slingbacks for you for a few months then!

Howard said...

Oh, I did like that club. Big fights!

Qenny said...

Oh, ow! That sounds awful! I was toying with the idea of a bit of gayjitsu myself, but if you're not allowed to swear I think I'll give it a body swerve, and just start attending the kick boxing class at Holmes Place that I've been meaning to get to for weeks.

Inexplicable DeVice said...

Oog... I feel a little feint (haven't spectralised properly).

Did they give you your toenail back?

Neep said...

Ack.

Did you have to tell that story when I'm wearing jandals, so I can't just ignore the fact I even have toes?

coolbuddha said...

Oh dear. One of those "not get invited a second time" moments. I've realised that since I can no longer reach my toe nails to bite them I forget to cut them.
Potential boyfriends please form an orderly queue at the door...

Will said...

Ouch.

I used to do self-defence. I'm a purple belt. I still haven't got round to a diabetes test (well, not since I was 15) but it's on the to-do list.

Spaceminx said...

Ouchy ouchy ouchy! Reminds me of a certain Mr Grussel in Florida nearly ripping his toenail off watching Free Willy.

Or whatever that big killer whale was called. ;) Honshu or something...