Tuesday, September 14, 2010


I am still sore from that 9/11 shindig. My workout this morning almost ended in a mental breakdown. My legs felt like they were made of cement and jelly (which coincidentally is also my favorite sandwich.) So tonight, I am going to hot yoga to stretch my large limbs all over the place. I have so many reasons to hate yoga. I hate the smell of the place. I hate the weirdos who teach the classes and then drive off all nervous in their Prius' with 100 vegetarian and coexist bumper stickers on them. I hate when everyone is barefoot. I hate straight men who act like doing yoga isn't gay. I could talk all day about how I hate yoga so much, but I won't because I love yoga so much.

The best part about hot yoga is the heat. I like sweating in certain situations. When I am exercising, sweat means I am working hard. When I am sitting in a room with giant pit stains and everybody else is freezing, it just means I ate too much and got the sweats. So during yoga, I like it to be as hot as possible so my sweat can drip off of my body and all over the room. This serves a double purpose, because if the 95lb, male, yoga instructor who is most likely an albino murders me and chucks me in a dumpster, I have already saturated the yoga room with my DNA...and I probably stuck my gum under my rental mat too.

Anyways, I really need to stretch my hammies, so at 7:30pm Eastern Time feel free to visualize me amongst the hipsters, in a 115 degree room trying to locate my third eye. That sounds gross. I feel like I should be saying “ Yea, I'll give ya a third eye..” but I don't quite know what I would be referencing so I'll let it go for now. But yes, tonight I am going to ignore all the sissy men, gross bare feet, and 100 asses in my face, so I can shake all this tension out of my muscles and finally be able to walk around the office and not look like a penguin with a peg leg. I hope somebody farts.

No comments:

Post a Comment