school dais
1. Analogies my Teachers disapprove of
"I had trouble reading the book, the writing was dryer than asexual pussy."
2. Yoga Journal
When I was seven years old, I took gymnastics. I continued to gymnast up until shortly after the first time I heard the word 'faggot'. I would like to say that these two facts are unrelated. I have not participated in regularly in anything athletic since with the exception of a single game of Ultimate Frisbee that spanned my entire highschool carreer. I'm sure that somewhere, in a school on the near West Side, that game continues today.
What I know about yoga, I learned from exgirlfriends and television. From one I learned the positive aspects and from another the negative. The positions that we have undertaken are simultaneously the most and least natural things I've ever done with my body voluntarily. Some of the positions are known to cause the muscles to relax, enabling air and blood to flow more easily through the many passages and causeways of the body. Thus, eventually, you fart. The Upanishads gloss over this but I know it is true. I know it is true because TV tells me so, and the image of spandexed xrackers comically passing gas is forever etched into my brain. Because of this, I entered the room slowly, silently pleading with God.
"Please. Don't let me be the first."
Once again, a perpetually winking God looked down upon me and replied, in a voice that rattled the trees and caused children to stir, "No Dice."
At least half of the room can attest to my broken pact with Our Lord.
This is how I imagine the tenure of my yoga carreer will play out. A series of minor embarassments. This will not deter me. There is another problem, that of my less-than-stellar memory. I look at a clock. I've got an hour to kill. Yoga time. I approximate to the best of my abilities the structure of a pretzel: heels togethor, hands behind my knees and...nothing. No pain, no fart rumble under my ribcage. This is not what we did in class! I await further instruction.
'Gleaned' is the most disgusting word in the English language and thus entirely appropriate. I have gleaned one thing from my yoga experience this far: avoid the veggie burgers at Chicago Carryout.
3. Fall Fashion
So there was this jogger girl running around in cotton jogger shorts that said 'ARUBA' on the back, nd on each ass cheek there was an inky handprint in white. Bad taste, Jogger Girl! They haven't even found the body yet.
"I had trouble reading the book, the writing was dryer than asexual pussy."
2. Yoga Journal
When I was seven years old, I took gymnastics. I continued to gymnast up until shortly after the first time I heard the word 'faggot'. I would like to say that these two facts are unrelated. I have not participated in regularly in anything athletic since with the exception of a single game of Ultimate Frisbee that spanned my entire highschool carreer. I'm sure that somewhere, in a school on the near West Side, that game continues today.
What I know about yoga, I learned from exgirlfriends and television. From one I learned the positive aspects and from another the negative. The positions that we have undertaken are simultaneously the most and least natural things I've ever done with my body voluntarily. Some of the positions are known to cause the muscles to relax, enabling air and blood to flow more easily through the many passages and causeways of the body. Thus, eventually, you fart. The Upanishads gloss over this but I know it is true. I know it is true because TV tells me so, and the image of spandexed xrackers comically passing gas is forever etched into my brain. Because of this, I entered the room slowly, silently pleading with God.
"Please. Don't let me be the first."
Once again, a perpetually winking God looked down upon me and replied, in a voice that rattled the trees and caused children to stir, "No Dice."
At least half of the room can attest to my broken pact with Our Lord.
This is how I imagine the tenure of my yoga carreer will play out. A series of minor embarassments. This will not deter me. There is another problem, that of my less-than-stellar memory. I look at a clock. I've got an hour to kill. Yoga time. I approximate to the best of my abilities the structure of a pretzel: heels togethor, hands behind my knees and...nothing. No pain, no fart rumble under my ribcage. This is not what we did in class! I await further instruction.
'Gleaned' is the most disgusting word in the English language and thus entirely appropriate. I have gleaned one thing from my yoga experience this far: avoid the veggie burgers at Chicago Carryout.
3. Fall Fashion
So there was this jogger girl running around in cotton jogger shorts that said 'ARUBA' on the back, nd on each ass cheek there was an inky handprint in white. Bad taste, Jogger Girl! They haven't even found the body yet.
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