Today it’s the pancakes. The food is served and I’m totally excited as I was withholding this piece of information since I’ve found out last night. I was just waiting for the perfect moment to share it. And now, I’m finally ready to impress my almost teenage daughter with the spiciest rumor in the hood: "Aleks, do you know… "– dramatic pause – "that Selena Gomez and Justin Bieber are back together?"
It was all fun and games until we realized that the wedding starts in less than three hours and: half of us is still on a business call / we are 20 kilometers away from the wedding venue / both of us look like some “hippy dudes going camping” / the “trousers situation” is still unresolved /we haven’t bought flowers yet / and we are pretty much behind any schedule we ever had
My social life is dead; I ditched most of my friends a long time ago as I spend all my free time on working on “You’ve got 5 Options”. I don’t go to the cinema. I don’t read books. I haven’t shaved my legs for weeks. I just got shit scared as I’ve bumped on some girl in my apartment; only after some seconds, I realized that’s my own daughter but she grew so much in the meantime, I hardly recognized her.
After three long days of being bunkered home due to severe cold, I finally left the house.
I had some errands to run, but the main selling point was that early in the morning I run out of a toilet paper, tissues, napkins and paper towels and was faced with the cruel reality of blowing my nose in a sock.I’ve tried that solution once; if you chose the right sock, it’s quite acceptable, but somehow you cannot look at that sock the same way ever again.
In a nutshell, CrossFit is a set of hell lot of weird and very tiring tortures (physical exercises), that will in many cases make you either puke (cardio) or die out of muscle fever (strength) – often simultaneously – which you are experiencing with a bunch of lunatics (other people, who signed up VOLUNTARILY) under supervision of the Satan (trainer).
I am a writer. I may not be the greatest writer in the world. As a matter of fact, I may not even be a good one. But I AM a writer nevertheless. My defining moments have passed already, and they’ll be passing over and over again until I decide to grab them. Lesson Learned, my friends: The defining moment becomes defining when you chose to make it as such.