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09.28.2002 - 5:16 p.m.
Saturday
It's probably one of the last
beautiful sunny days we're going to see for the next eighty jillion
months, and what have I been doing with myself? Sitting in a
darkened room before the computer's warm glowing warming glow,
working on a banner ad. Dorkification!
What else have I done on this
lovely Saturday afternoon? Well, JB and I took our comforter
outside and shook it. Yes, a profoundly boring activity to report,
but my GOD you should have seen the mounds of fur that came whirling
away and filled the air. It was disgusting. I cannot believe
we were sleeping with that - it's like literally sleeping on
top of a dog. We must have fur coating our lungs, several inches
thick! Wadded up inside our nostrils! Between our toes! Blick!
We have made a new pact to
not allow Dog on the bed, but if history
is any indicator, our resolve will weaken at the first whimper
from behind the closed door. Curse our wimpy selves.
And speaking of wimpiness (an
amazingly clever segue, no? *cough*), I've been taking these
yoga classes near Workplace. By "taking" I mean "I've
gone exactly twice". I went on Thursday and I'm still so
goddamn sore it hurts to steer.
The studio does both Bikram
and 'Power Vinyasa' styles, where the room is heated to a temperature
that rivals Death Valley in August. I'm not kidding, it's like
being inside a furnace. Oh, and you're exercising in the furnace.
The instructor, who looks like Jean Claude Van Damme only slightly
less retarded, puts the class through a series of unbelievably
hard poses. He says stuff like:
"From a standing position,
hold your right foot in your left hand and extend it to the ceiling.
Turn your head around so you are facing to the back of the room,
and take your right arm and wrap it around your waist. Now lift
your left foot. Yes, it sounds like I am asking you to defy the
laws of physics, but that is because you aren't relaxed enough.
Breathe."
I actually didn't know my body
could produce so much sweat. I sweated like a fat kid at a barn
dance. The soles of my feet sweated. My tongue sweated. Everywhere
in the room you hear the soft patter of sweat-drops hitting the
mats.
Other than having to sit out
some poses because I could feel that I was very close to either
passing out or bursting into flames, I made it through both classes.
I'd like to keep going back. Maybe eventually I can do some of
the balancing stuff without swaying violently back and forth
like I was buffeted by hurricane-force winds.
And that serenity stuff. I'd
like to get me some of that, too. It's hard to 'let go of your
thoughts' when you're worried about whether or not your ass looks
like a Macy's parade blimp in Downward Facing Dog.
go back :::
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0
comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004
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