Are birthdays aging you? Have toxins in candle smoke and cheap frosting eroded your physical prowess? Well, buck up, fellow silverbacks!! Myriad folks-almost a plethora-now practice…what's that Chinese exercise? Tie Cheese.
Just kidding, y'all know it's Chai Tea, though many athletes wonder if sipping tea counts as exercise. But poor muscle tone can result in falls, according to AARP's Union of Trapeze Artists. Oh, like they'd have a clue. I say we master the nuances of tumbling off a cliff - on purpose! Yup, I've applied to a Hollywood stunt school.
The school offers the basics of: Fight - Acquire everyday saber skills and never again lose a parking spot. Fall - If we regularly fall from grace, how hard could it be to dive off rooftops?!? And Fire - The "stop, drop, and roll" is gone, baby. Let's dance the U-R-BBQ boogie!
Candidates need a background in risky sports, such as martial arts, climbing, riding horses, or scuba diving. Leapin' lacerations! I've done it all! Take martial arts. Why, any stuntwoman worth an organ donation has her black belt. Mine is patent leather and looks darling with dress slacks.
Climbing? You bet your broken femur! No rocks, but many ladders, a few of them not even attached to a slide. At a summer cabin I nabbed the top bunk, and rappelled down for midnight potty trips in a sling made of hemp support hose and a Patagonia gift card.
On horseback, I've perfected unique aerial maneuvers. Not intentionally, per se. Remember the rodeo brouhaha last year? Boy, did the Shetland hit the fan in that caper! Since then, this here cowgirl always wears clothes under her chaps.
Scuba diving. Hell, any fool can sink with a weight belt and suck on canned air. Yours Truly, however, served in the elite Navy unit known as the Clubfooted Mermaids. Mind you, we flailed on the surface while gulping air and water, and hacking up the occasional dragonfly.
In slimy, barnacled costumes, and caps covered with giant rubber lilies, we slithered o'er the waves like mutant Chia Pets®. Then…tragedy! Yes, the dreaded tuna nets. Alas, my entangled sisters flopped and wheezed, and I alone dodged the Starkist® cuttingboard. Oh, the heartbreak of-but hey, life goes on!!
And fire? I was damn hot, so to speak, as a volunteer firefighter. (Pause here while the writer hopes her pathetic self-aggrandizement will rock a reader somewhere.) Danger is my middle name and-wait, that's not true. It's Ralph. But many a time I cheated death, living to black-marker my eyebrows on 'till they grew out again.
Okay, okay, the truth? The only fire I ever fought was when I dropped a lighted cigarette onto the car seat while driving to practice. Aye, laddies, 'twas a wee bit of a scramble to put out the smokin' cushion under me knickers!
Spanking good news! The stunt school accepted me!! Sort of. Seems I "don't fit the profile" of the typical candidate. Obviously, the school needs to spare the other students from the morass of self-doubt they might suffer in the shadow of brilliance. Sigh. Come hither, child, and heed my words: Lonely is the path of genius.
So I'm taking the home study course, offered only to a privileged few. Let's peek at an assignment.
Fight: Open new jar of natural peanut butter. Stir well with fingers, then wrestle cellophane off new CD.
Fall: Blow out gas pilot light on water heater. Dump marbles into bathtub. Wipe down the grab bar with oily CD cellophane. Take icy shower.
Fire: Relight pilot. No breathing into paper bag. No bargaining with God.
Yes, it's daunting. So, as a warmup exercise, I'm wearing white to a spaghetti dinner tonight. Dear me, what a rush!! Moreover, I've spackled on fresh makeup- without my glasses. Gasp! I feel so ALIVE!!!
Mind calling a cab for me? I think my adrenals just spiked the punch.
Copyright © 2008 Mary Tompsett
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