Hoopsters

Yesterday was Kristin's May the 4th be with You Bachelorette Bash. What culminated in a night of cocktails, super heroes, fashion shows, "marry, fuck, kill," so many cardboard penis and posters of Ian Malcolm and people taking turns holding my hair back as I had a vomit party of one (classy), started innocently enough, with a hula hoop lesson in the park.

Is there anyone out there who wasn't a hula hoop enthusiast as a kid? Or even as an adult with that horrible wii-fit game? I always thought I was pretty good at it, even if my 5'10" frame bends in  half and I look more like a drunk cavewoman trying to keep her balance than I do a lithe 1950's bobby soxer.

not me.

But then again, I'd never taken a lesson or learned how to hula hoop properly (yes, there is a right and wrong way). Our instructor, Lauren, is essentially a tiny little badass made out of equal parts fairy dust and hooping wizard. She rolled up in a tutu and made every trick look as effortless as walking. She even got into the math and phsyics of hooping, which kinda blew my mind (ooooo, centripidal force!). While most of us (ok, just me) were decidedly not as magical or graceful as Lauren, we did conquer the hoops. I even managed to nail down the "booty pop," which is basically benidng yourself in half, popping your booty as you spin the hoop, and pivoting at the same time. For someone like me, with no coordination, it took the better part of the afternoon to figure out how to spin with the hoop, and pivot on opposite feet. But all of us walked away with a butt ton of hooping knowledge, shredded cores, bruises, and for some of us, a little blood on our hands.

And, because we're classy adults, we followed up the hooping with a Prius Picnic of bruschetta, finger sandwiches and fried chicken. AW YES.

Now that I'm a bitter adult, I forget that playing outside in the sunshine can be the best thing, ever. Apart from the sunburn and the pollen that raped my allergies, it really was an awesome afternoon. Why didn't any of that ever bother me when I was a kid? But, I digress. 



Lauren layin' down the hoop law

the close up of the Bride/Bridesmaid t-shirts I made. Each one of us got a different power ranger, because Kristin is a power ranger. A power ranger t-rex. Who hoops for money. on RuPaul's Drag Race.

Tini, hoop champion, eating fried chicken, ain't give a damn,

Kristin, also a hooping champion

Kira, after getting a bloody nose from her hoop, but just before getting a massive neck bruise

Lauren, hoop wizard

Prius picnic


Good times were had by all.