Thursday, July 28, 2005

No one expects to be beaten to death with a yoga mat.

Last night, after the day of medical conflict I relate below, I had yoga class.

I needed yoga class.

Unfortunately, some doofus guy who I've never seen before cleverly set up his mat about 18 inches from mine, invading my personal space and touching my fucking hand while we're lying with our arms extended. Aaaa! Ewwww!

Then, after class, the stairs in the alleyway were blocked by a couple of fratty white dudes and their apparent dates. As I squeezed past them, one of the dudes said something like "Yeah, been doing some Yooooga?" in this kind of southern rap accent I assume he picked up from the MTV. I'm like "What the fuck does it look like?" Out loud.


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