Spirituality and Hollywood


my gym’s a little ridic.

1) the guy who swipes my membership card always gives me some attitude. he is this young earnest-looking dude with these penetrating eyes that look like they were stolen from a bird of prey and stuck in his head. so he has this really intense look about him. but he always gives me crap. at first he was new, and nary a squeak would get past his lips, but now that’s he’s been there for a month or so, and works the early-bird shift, he really lays it on me. today he loudly proclaimed when i came in “finally rolled your butt outta bed huh?” i grunted and moved on. it was WAY too early to have a solid comeback. next time. shiot.

2) there are so many celebrity lookalikes at my gym. but not like a-list celebrities, more like random celebrities. there’s a cheri oteri. and a jay leno. and a margaret cho. anyway, there’s also this guy. who always wears biker shorts (hottt). and has this greek statue build, with the huge upper torso and the sculpted calves and then these long white flowing locks of hair that he always ties back in a ponytail. it’s pretty awesomely frightening. i secretly call him retired hercules.

3) anyway, yoga class. i got there late. get the one remaining moldy yoga mat at the bottom of the box. seriously. i think someone once peed on it. MULTIPLE TIMES. i get a seat on the floor, look to my left, it’s retired hercules! to my right, superfit soccer mom. eesh. much to my dismay, my yoga teacher decides to extremely challenge us today and i end up getting stuck in multiple positions wherein i cannot unstick myself. i fall over twice during tree pose, once during dancer pose, i lift one of my legs during downward facing dog so it looks like downward pissing dog, i cannot sit still during meditation. i am a mess. my chi is out of alignment. it’s a friggin’ travesty. finally, we’re doing an inversion near the end of class, and you’re not supposed to do them if you have an upper back or neck injury, so i decline due to sore neck and stay in the previous pose, happy baby pose. so there i am on my back, clutching each of my feet with each of my hands, rocking back and forth, making little cooing noises because it’s a very comfortable and regressive pose. so there i was, the happiest little baby in the room. everyone else was trying to concentrate on balancing. but it was my moment of zen. now my back kills like a mother.

what happy baby pose looks like. try it sometime. it’s fabulous.

seriously, it’s great.


seriously, seriously, srsly, BRAD PITT AND ANGELINA JOLIE are having a BAy-BAY! this child will have succulent lips and rugged sensual good looks (from birth onwards) and probably come out with a tattoo on its butt (“property of brangelina”). it will probably also never poop, or something equally inhuman, but extremely fascinating. such is the progeny of the a-list celebrities. especially those brought together through their love of all that is charitable and good in the world, plus the making of a his AND her action movie.

and secondly, lindsay lohan was just outed on her drug dabbling (coke does a good waif make) and bulimic tendencies, and now she’s denying it all. seriously. if you want to be a good waif, please, please, please do not try and be an effortless one. there are efforts that go into achieving extreme waifage. there’s vomit, and nosebleeds, and all kinds of shit involved. it ain’t natural. and when you admitted something on tape and then profusely claim your words were misconstrued and misused, people are gonna say you’re addled in the brain. ADDLED. and freckled. she’s also very freckled. i mean i wasn’t there and i can’t know everything, but bitch please.

mmmmm peroxide is a laxative, right?

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