[The woman who calls herself Qing Ji waves her hand vaguely in front of a few tacky florescent signs placed in a strip mall window. One says "kung fu" in vertical neon lettering. As if the next one couldn't be worse, it does. The next one is just as bright, and almost blindingly ugly. She looks, somehow, less amused even though there's not much to compare it to. Above the concrete pillars is lettering in a basic sans serifed letter face that says "Martial Arts" written in red.

Through the windows, a large mural of a dragon that's painted in various hues of greens and blues. A handful of exotic plants are in the windows, obscuring the view of the very basic gym mats set all over the floor. It doesn't look very fancy. Oh well.]

It's as it says.

[She brings joins her hands in front of her, beneath her sleeves.]

Whoever wants to join is welcome, intermediate to advanced. If you have experience, I'd like to gauge your abilities myself. Please come by and I'll see what you can do.

[ srrrrchk, and the audio cuts in: ] -- working or not.

Do I have to wait until tomorrow to say I was born yesterday? Because this might be the first time I can actually get away with it.

[ anyone? anyone? ... Bueller? ]