my butt. it hurts.

My ass is so sore. Anna has already made fun of me, saying that when I'm eighty-five she'll remind me of how back in the day when I was twenty-three I thought my ass hurt. That wasn't nothin compared to the pains I go through now, eighty-five-year-old me will say. But seriously, I can barely even sit down.

Today was our History-Makers conference at the California African-American Museum. I sat on a hard chair for the opening address. And then I sat on a hard chair for my morning panel on Hip-Hop. And then I sat on a hard chair for my second morning panel, this time on private practice and public law. And then, during lunch, I sat on a hard chair. I couldn't wiggle around or eat standing up or whatnot because Magic Johnson was addressing us. Yes, Magic Johnson. So then after Magic, I sat on a hard chair for my afternoon panel. That one was incredibly boring, but I couldn't move because there were only a handful of other people in the room.

Then I sat in the passenger seat of Sasha's car while driving home. And then I sat at my desk writing an assessment of Lois Lowry's The Giver (a fucking fantastic book). And then I sat on my butt for forty minutes in traffic to Brentwood, and then for an hour at Jackson's house for tutoring, and then for another half-hour in traffic on the way back.

My ass is so sore that I don't even want to sit on the couch to watch TV.

*gasp*

Did I just write that?!?!