Tuesday, September 20, 2011

I gotta get on the schedule. I gotta get on the schedule. I gotta get
The EGO, part uno
Why can't I resist this mecca of Freudian concepts?
(pronounced as in "leggo my eggo," a 1970s waffle reference) 
A random question to start: What does it mean that someone in searching this blog used the search term "pms bowling illustration"?

Last night I was told that four people were coming to my class at the house. Instead, eight people came. After the rather successful cardio portion, I got all my Italians scrambled and they kept going in the wrong directions, facing every which way, and generally kicking each other and giving me dirty looks.

I think they had a great time. I promised them that if they came back, I would be better organized. But in my head, all I could keep thinking about what the interview at the Ego today. And that is just sheer ego on my part because this is the gym I decided not to work at because it is too far from the house, they usually demand an exclusive commitment from teachers, and they are far too snobby. But, madonna, do I love a challenge.

Is it just me, or does this look like a scene from The Stepford Wives?
I wish I were fatter.
Turning orange is beautiful.
I've changed my mind . . . let me out.
Not exactly Body Reserve, in Brooklyn
Tempted, anybody?
That could be me.
Let's make s'mores!
This spa has done wonders for our marriage.

This vehicle takes employees to events. Imagine that blog post. Even Scooby Doo wants to ride this van!

I woke up before the alarm with my pulse racing and feeling, oddly enough, very pms bowling illustration-ish. My pre-audition schedule is: drink tiny espresso, eat cup of dry wheat flakes (gross, yet comforting), drink mint and lemon verbena tea, shower, put wet hair in pony tail, warm up, rinse off, put on waterproof mascara, lipstick and sun screen, print out CV/resume, panic, go to Ego.

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