Comedic Relief

For those of you who know me, you know that I cannot stay serious for very long. At one point or another in any serious conversation or situation, I have to crack a joke and laugh. At my cousin's funeral, for example, I leaned over to my sister and requested that they play AC/DC's "Back in Black" at my funeral procession and to make sure that the coffee bar stays replenished for the guests. Needless to say, I received the "be-mindful-of-where-you-are" look from my mother. I get that look a lot.

But in all honesty, humor is a coping mechanism for me. I don't like to cry and if I do, you can bet your bottom it'll be for a good reason (like the end of Old Yeller) and will be in the privacy of my own home (unless I'm watching said movie at my parents'). Yes, it's been a crappy few weeks in the Heller household, but don't think for a second that I'm going to be all doom and gloom about it. That's no fun.

That being said, here's a fun story. Last night my husband and I brought our friends Dale & Emily along to our self-defense/kickboxing/jeet kune do/mixed martial arts/roll on the floor until you pass out/wrestling class. First, a bit of background on our husbands: Dale is a black belt in Judo (if that even exists -I don't know) and has a background in Brazilian jiu jitsu. Billy was a state qualifier in wrestling and went the majority of his high school career undefeated. Both are major meatheads and spend the majority of their time together either in the gym or talking about going to the gym. Last night they brought along mouthguards, water bottles, cups (not for drinking), and boxing pads in preparation.

Then there's Emily and I. Sure I have an athletic background, but when it comes to any sort of self-defense, I resort to my south side Chicago upbringing: kick 'em in the junk and run like hell. Emily, being the 'bama belle that she is, would politely ask the perp to please back away and consider the consequences of his actions. We brought along our purses, sweatshirts, hair ties, and lip gloss in preparation. Put the two of us together, add our brawling husbands and one very patient instructor, and you've got yourself a show!

The boys spent most of the night rolling around on the floor and learning different ways to make the other pass out. Emily and I high-fived each other every time we used the correct form. The boys took pride in hurting each other and boasted about their rug burns and twisted knees. Emily and I prided ourselves on throwing punches without breaking a nail. The boys talked about MMA, fighting stances, and workout programs the entire ride home. Emily and I talked about our childhoods. Overall, I'd say the night was a success.

P.S. To redeem my pride, I have to tell you that I wrestled Billy to the ground and knocked out his contact. I'm not just a pretty face...