I have a crush on billboards.

Dear Diary:

On Sunday morning kylie and I had our first kickboxing class.
This is like, a kickboxing boot camp. Our trainer is mean!
AND SCARY.
(Though I made a joke about kicking ass and taking names and I think he smiled. I'll charm him good, then maybe he'll stop threatening "This is the LAST time I wanna see your feet touch the ground during the crunches set, LADIES.")

!!!!
Terrifying.

Needless to say I got my ass whooped. I've not worked so hard in years, and my thighs are so sore I can barely walk.
Seriously.
I'm walking like a baby tyranosaurus rex taking its first steps.
VISUALIZE THIS.
My thigh muscles keep spasming and forcing my leg back and it sets me off balance. The only way to keep it from happening is to lock my knees, and then I walk like a toy soldier.

Naturally my boss decides that yesterday would be a good day to send me walking down town to deposit some money in the bank.
I try to tell him I can't walk normal, but he inquires whether I'm doing Muay Thai or regular kick boxing.
"Just regular kind," I say.
"Oh," says my boss, pauses for a moment... and leaves the office.

OH? OH WHAT? I guess this means I'm still doing the bank run.

Instead of taking the stairs out to my car, the quickest route, I take the elevator to save on PAIN and walk around my building to the parking lot. Excessive hobbling ensues.
Hobble hobble.
I stop to look up at a billboard on the lot for a while, because I hear chirping, and find that there is a bunch of baby pigeons with their mother living in between the billboard.
AWWWW.
I stare up at it for a while and smile, then continue my journey through the parking lot.

Hobble.
Hobble.
I finally get to my car. Getting in and out of it is the hardest part of transportation right now.
I open the door and grab onto it with both hands for support as I try to throw myself ass-first into the drivers seat.
I'm swearing under my breath and going "OW OW OW," its a long arduous process, and I finally manage to get myself adjusted and start the car.

Still parked, I look out the front windshield, and there is a man leaning up against the building.
He's smoking a cigarette.
He's obviously been smoking it for a while, as he throws the butt on the ground and stomps it out.

(I have enough humility to realize that my adventure comes off to a third party not as a quest full of the miracles of life, triumphs of strength and agility, but as a crippled person who stares lovingly at inanimate objects for unacceptable amounts of time before swearing at her car.)

And when he looks
he looks at me.

Annnnnnd SCENE.