My friend Wendy got me this hoop.
It matches my favorite shirt.
You need to use it outside. Unless your house is bigger than mine. Then you might be ok indoors. Like you live in a house with stairs and a couch and rooms. Maybe even a basement and one of those big ass tv's that are hooked up to the wall. Hoops are bigger than you remember from when you were little.
I think it's useful for many things that champions need. Cores, for instance. And you can hold it up and get the dogs to take turns jumping through it while you hum Italian circus tunes.
Also, it's a tube that just goes around and around and around til you stop it. Cosmic, dude. You can stand there on the deck and think about your secret code word while it goes around and around and around and doesn't stop. All mystical and shit. Maybe this is meditation? Circuitous thought? Sacred prayer wheel? I just call it hoola hoop.
4 comments:
uuuum, are you stoned by any chance?
Jodi, I am just hooping.
Just now, I did find a baggy of what the kids, I guess, call reefer, in the street when I walked the dogs. Santa Cruz is like that. I wasn't sure what good manners dictate when you find something like this, so I set it carefully back in the gutter like we learned to do in nature with baby birds or possums in the Brownie Scouts.
When I walked back home, I saw a guy walking just ahead of me, in shorts and a hoodie on a morning with ice. He spotted it in a second, looked both ways, and stuffed it in his pocket. Merry Christmas, hoodie guy.
I will refer to you as "Saint Reefer" from now on.
I am sure the hoodie guy did too.
I need a lesson from you. My hoop keeps falling after about 15 seconds!
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