Ninjitsu class, every Sun., 11:30 a.m.-2 p.m.; every Wed. and Fri., 6:30-9 p.m.; $50/month, Philadelphia Urban Defense Center, 725 N. Sixth St., 215-421-7856.

When my editor signed me up for a real ninjitsu class, I grabbed every Michael Dudikoff film available at Blockbuster. If I could steal all his flashy, tough-guy, spin-kicking shit moves, I'd impress the hell out of all my peers.

Upon arrival, I was greeted by instructor Shidoshi Phillip Hevener. Doing my best Dudikoff impression, I asked Hevener how much of what we see in Hollywood ninjary is true.

"Well, all that flashy, tough-guy, Hollywood stuff is incorrect. Ninjitsu is all about small, skillful movements," he said. "Exerted strength is discouraged." Dammit. I could tell by looking around the dojo that beer bellies are also discouraged. Strike two.

A typical ninjitsu class consists of 45 minutes of stretching followed by 90 minutes of instructional defense and attacks. There are two primary roles: A "tori" is the ass kicker and a "uke" is the ass kickee. Only the more experienced members are ukes, because ninjitsu focuses heavily on attacking pressure points. As Hevener so delicately pointed out, "If we have stiff, inexperienced members as a uke, we'd be sending a lot of people to the emergency room."

With that, Hevener gave me a quick taste of ninja wrath by performing a very intermediate wrist-lock on me. "Stop me when you feel something," he said. In seconds, pain was shooting through my wrist.

"Oh yeah, there it is," I whimpered, not a trace of Dudikoff in my voice.