Your Girlfriend is Ugly

500th Post

I figured I'd dedicate my 500th post (day-um) to how much I hate Halloween since today is in fact the dia de los muertos. Now, I realize hate is a very strong word and my parents told me that I should never use it but "severely dislike" just doesn't begin to explain how stupid I think this "holiday" is.

Honestly, if you're between the ages of 1 and 10 Halloween is cool. You get butt loads of candy and you get to hang out with your friends and walk around after your bedtime (even if you are with an adult). When I was a kid the trick-or-treating was follow-up by a party at my neighbors house. The kids would bob for apples, do candy exchanges and watch scary movies. The adults would hang out and knock back a few. It was awesome.

But now it's an excuse for girls to dress sluttier than they normally would and for guys to try and get laid by them. Why do I have to wear a costume to attend a party? I'm fabulous as my normal self. A costume takes away from the over all look.

I put all of my effort into HWEEN last year. LK, Plus One and I even went as far as to drive to an iParty in the suburbs. (GAH. I'm breaking out into hives at the thought of it). We were butterflies, complete with wings and fake lashes and home made antennae. We were going to meet up with friends and hit up this AMAZING party at The Stadium in Southie.

So after pregaming at my apartment and losing my fake eye lashes to the wind we headed to said party and waited in line for an hour and a half. Apparently whoever was hosting the party invited too many people and the place was already packed because of the Red Sox being in the World Series. -I don't know what I'm more upset about? The fact that I waited in line for 90 minutes or the fact that instead of watching the game I was dressed as a butterfly-. And it was humid as hell last year. Yeah something weird was going on with the weather because it was warm and I remember sweating severely and having my hair frizz up the second I stepped outside.

I was not a happy butterfly.

We said EFF YOU to the party and walked up Dorchester Ave and took over the first dive bar we saw. Half the people we were with were pissed because we weren't at a party and the other half (my half) were just thrilled to be at a bar with real live alcohol.

I kept my wings on for good measure as I flitted around the bar playing darts and doing shots. But it was a waste. For all the running around we did I could've just had everyone over in their costumes to my apartment to drink.

After my botched attempt at Halloween last year I vowed that I wouldn't do anything this year even remotely involved with Halloween. I was invited to carve pumpkins and I made up a story about a yoga class I wanted to go to. I was invited to a Halloween party this weekend which I had to decline due to my non-Halloween plans but even if I had nothing going on, I still wouldn't go. I'd rather catch up on Mad Men. 

My favorite holiday as all of you know is Fourth of July. You just can't beat a holiday where you don't have to be pressured to buy presents for anyone and where the setting is the beach, booze and BBQ. A colleague of mine constantly makes fun of me because of this. He can't believe that Fourth of July is someones favorite holiday. His is *SHOCKER*Halloween. He emailed me and told me that he is dressing up as Anakin and will be wearing his costume to work.

No, he doesn't work at a school, hospital or nursing home. He works in New York in packaging. He's in his 30's and he is WEARING HIS HALLOWEEN COSTUME TO WORK.

Fine you want to celebrate Halloween and go to an after work party whatever. Change into your costume after business hours. Don't tote around your light saber!

It's just weird.

But I am pumped for the 50% off candy that will be overflowing at my local Rite-Aid. At least one good thing comes out of this monstrosity of a holiday.

Throwing it down at the MAC counter.

This evening I met The Donna for dinner at the Cheesecake Factory at South Shore Plaza. Over salads the size of my bedroom we discussed my dating life and my impending move. Neither of which I'm that thrilled about but hey, it was good to see my mom.

After the waitress cleared our plates, The Donna and I decided to head over to Macy's to see what was popping in shoes. Three pairs later it was time to wrap up the foot party up. My mom headed upstairs for a quick second while I cruised cosmetics. During my stroll I spotted a packaging at MAC that I absolutely had to purchase for work.

I looked around and there were three MAC employees in the vicinity and all of them were occupied. Well, I knew what I wanted and I was there to spend money so I would just politely interrupt.

I saw a break in the action with one of the girls and went over to her. "Hi, excuse me. I just wanted to pick up two of the palettes over there." I said pointing to the display.

The sales associate turned and glared at me. I was met with heavily lined eyes caked with lizard green eye shadow topped off with what appeared to be rhinestones. AKA crazy makeup. The staple of all MAC employees. Clearly someone was ready for HWEEN.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I have two women who are waiting for me."

"Ok," pause pause pause, "But see I know what I want already." 

"Yeah. I'm sorry. They've been waiting a really long time. I have to go help them."

I glanced over to where the Iguana was headed; two girls stood there absentmindedly swiping eye shadows on the tops of their hands and holding it out to the light.

"B-but. I know what I want. You don't have to do anything to me. I don't need a makeover or advice -like I'd take it from her anyway!- I'm going to purchase two of those pallets."

"They have been waiting a long time. You'll have to wait."

Uh. For real?

"So what you're telling me is that you can't tell those girls over there to hold on for three minutes so you can ring up a $60 sale? It's a guaranteed sale. You didn't' even have to advise me. You could spend twenty minutes with those girls and they could just walk away with a free makeover."

"You need to wait."

I know I should've walked away and said, "EFF YOU MAC COUNTER!" But I really needed a spare one of these palettes for this project I'm working on

I turned the corner and went up to the males MAC sales associate who was helping a mother who's two children were terrorizing a mannequin.

"Hi I just need to purchase two palettes. I already know which colors."

"Sure." Then he turned to the woman, "Do you mind if I just ring her in?"

"Oh no problem!"

How fucking hard was that?!

Mario, or whatever his name was took my AMEX and rang up my purchases, all under five minutes. When he handed me the bag I told him about the ignorance of his co-worker.

"You should have a serious talk with her. In this economy I don't think it's in her best interest to be turning away guaranteed sales."

God. If I didn't hate retail so much I'd get a part-time job on the weekends.

Effing the Flu Shot.

'Tis the season for dripping noses, whopping coughs and using up those sick days. Flu Season is upon us. It's looming on the horizon like a cumulonimbus cloud. And with Flu Season comes the Flu Shot.

I myself have never had a flu shot in my adult life. Sure I was pinned down and injected when I was a small child but since I've been old enough to make my own decisions I've declined the flu shot every time. Why? I've never had the flu.

I know. Apparently the idea that getting the flu shot gives you the flu is bogus. But I will tell you that neither my father or myself have had flu shots recently and we've never been sick -knock on wood-.

I was checking out Slut's brother's Facebook page and his update was "had a bad reaction to the flu shot." Then I learned yesterday that HLP had to go home on Monday because she had a bad reaction to this seasons flu shot.

I'm seeing a trend that I'm not quite comfortable with. Like boyfriend jeans.

Two years ago I went to the doctor for a Sarcoidosis check up -in remission *woot*- and the lung specialist was telling me how important it is for me to get the flu shot.

"Yeah. I'm good."

"Why don't you want it?"

"I've never had the flu."

"You know that's just an old wives tale. It's not true. You don't get the flu from a flu shot."

"Ok. I'll take my chances. Everyone I know gets sick after."

"But it's not true!" He was starting to get pissed. His stethoscope was all shaky. Maybe he had to meet a flu shot quota for the day? Who knows!

All I know is that currently I know two people who have had really bad reactions to the shot and no matter how badly I may need a day off, I'm not going to risk it. If it's going to happen I'll let it come naturally.

Bring it Flu!

A yo yo yoga update.

As you all know I'm into Yoga. I started going in early October and I absolutely love it. It's quite possibly the best thing I've done for myself. Well that and therapy.

I purchased a monthly membership at O2 in South End and I attend the lunch time classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays and the 9:30am class on Saturdays. It's basic with a lot of sun salutations but I sweat my ass off and for me it's a better work out than cardio. I was talking to JSutt about it - she's super happy I'm into Yoga. She didn't think I'd like it. Truthfully I'm shocked I like it myself- and she was telling me about this restorative Yoga class that she attended in Brookline and how amazing it is.

"Lees, It's amazing."

"How amazing is it JSutt?"

"It's just a really good way to end your week. And you sweat. A. LOT."

Never one to shy away from trying something new -except the duck necks! I wouldn't try the duck necks in China- we made a date to attend the Basic restorative yoga class at Baptiste Yogain Brookline this past Sunday.

I'm not going to lie. I was totally intimidated by the people in this class. They were all super hard core looking and none of them seemed to have any sort of basic yoga needs. And no one was really smiley. At O2 everyone smiles at you and is quiet and breathy. This place had some mickey mouse beams holding up the ceiling.

We entered the room and I immediately began to sweat. It was like stepping into a sauna that had gone to plaid and I loved it. People were in their various warm up positions, downward facing dog, upward facing dog, happy baby. I laid on my back and stretched from side to side.

The instructor finally came in.

"Hi I'm Jamie. I'm gonna be your instructa fa the class."

Her Boston accent was totally bumping.

"We're gonna do some wahm up poses and it's gonna be a great class guys."

The class was pretty great. Besides the fact that she didn't shut the fuck up the entire time. While I was trying to get all restorative and zen like with my bad yoga self she was walking around the class talking talk talking. Telling stories about her brother and how he was diagnosed with ADD when he was younger and how he took that ADD and turned it into something that helps him be creative in his work.

Don't care! Trying to thread the needleover here! We can chat about your brother over some bean sprouts and jasmine tea.

Now, I understand yoga is all about release, but what is the deal with the people who have to grunt like their on their third orgasm during a class? This one guy who was on the other side of the room -shirtless and wearing fancy man yoga pants- was grunting like a cave man the entire time. And it didn't matter what pose we were in. We could be lying on our backs in a resting position and out of no where you'd hear:

"OOOOOOOOOOooooooUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAHHH..."

During a downward facing dog he let out a grunt so intense the walls shook. I busted out into a giggle and looked around. No one else was laughing. No one else was looking around to see who was giving birth in the corner. That's fine. Maybe these folks are more mature than I am. But the first time someone farts in a yoga class I'm taking I'll have to leave the room. There is no way I'll be able to keep my composure after an event like that.

Fart-free, we emerged from the class, restored and sweating so much it looked like I peed my pants. Honestly, I can't get over the sweat. I have never in my life sweat that much. And that includes sex, going to the beach during a heat-wave, and the one time I tried to go running.

I'm in love with O2 yoga but I'd give Restorative yoga another whirl. Mainly because I have a free class pass. But I think I might have to get the Instructa Jamie a muzzle. Maybe a cute lululemon one??

Cheers to babies in bars!!

Last night I traipsed around the South End with JSutt and The Agent of Fabulousness. JSutt and I started out at Laura Preshong's cocktail party where we tried on $5800 rings with raw diamonds, drank red wine from plastic cups and munched on gourmet cheese doodles. It was a great time and we were surrounded by some cool people. And a child.

There was a woman there who didn't look to be much older than my 27 year old self, who was toting around, what appeared to be an 8 year old girl. The woman was going on and on about the jewelry and how amazing it was and when JSutt complimented her "You Don't Know Jacques" OPI nail color the girl just said, "Yeah I think that's the name. I never remember. It blows my mind how people can even remember the names of nail polishes."

I always remember the name of the color I get my nails done with. But I digress.

We downed our wine and made our way to the second party at Looc Boutique. The A of F met us there and with prosecco in hand we meandered around the space and watched JSutt try on clothes. As we were getting ready to leave the woman and her mini me came strolling through the door. I glanced down at my watch and it was 7:30. Shouldn't that little girl be watching Looney Tunes and getting ready for bed? Not party hoping through the South End.

When we were out on the street we started to talk about what a beast that woman was and then the A of F said, "And shouldn't that little girl be in bed?"

"IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII KNOW!" we proclaimed in Unison.

"The last time I was at Beehive a couple had their infant there," proclaimed JSutt. "They brought their infant to a loud jazz club and were just covering its ears!"

"Ugh, get a baby sitter!"

We finally made our way to Pho Reblublique. With all of the kid talk I needed a drink. We sidled up to the bar and ordered our respective cocktails. JSutt and I got vodka sodas with splashes of pineapples and the A of F got a mango margarita. When our drinks arrived I held up my class and said, "Cheers guys!" and as if on cue an ear piercing wail resonated through the restaurant. The three of us looked over to our left and sure enough there was a group of people enjoying dinner in a loud, crowded restaurant with a small baby in a carriage.

"Ugh."

"Totes ugh."

"So annoying."

"SO annoying!"

"To babies in bars!"

"TO BABIES IN BARS!"

*clink*

The one about my date with a guy possessing a massive foot fetish.

As I mentioned in the blog below, I was out with my lovely friend Jenski Hillski on Friday. We shared some squid and downed some vodka at the fabulous bar at Eastern Standard.Somehow during the course of our evening I began to tell her the story of how I went on a date with a guy who had a foot fetish. I think I blacked out because after a few minutes I looked up and Jen was looking at me with a sort of horrified expression on her face, clutching her vodka and just saying "OOOOH. MYYYY. GOOODDDD."

I thought about it for a moment and then said to the bar, "Wait. Why haven't I bogged about this yet?"

"I don't know. But you need to."

So here we go.

It was the year 2000 and I had just moved back to Boston. I transfered from the Fashion Institute of Technology in Manhattan to Emerson College and was commuting from my parents house into the city for class until I could secure housing. Well, since all of my friends were away having their own college experiences and I was starting at a new school,  I didn't have too much of a social life.

This was back when AOL chat rooms were still popular. (I know what you're thinking). Anyway I found this one room that catered to new people in Boston. Just a friendly chat room where one could get ideas of where to go if you were new to the area. I wasn't new per se, since I grew up going into Boston all the time but I just wanted to meet new people.

I started talking to this one guy over IM. I don't remember if he was new to the area but he seemed normal and by the looks of his picture he was cute. Our IM chats progressed into phone chats and during one particular conversation he asked me how my feet were.

"How my feet are?"

"Yeah. What do your feet look like?"

"Oh. Uuhmm...They are painted pink...and..."

"Did you just get a pedicure?"

"No."

"So are your toe nails a little long?"

"Um...I actually looked at my toe nails...I guess..."

"Mmmmm....."

Ooh you'd think I got a clue. Nope.

At one point he asked me to walk on the hardwood floor and scrape my toes against the wood.

I let his request process in my brain and took a pregnant pause.  It wasn't so much that I was weirded out that he was into feet. I happen to like my feet very much. I just needed more information. "So are you, like, into feet?"

"Yeah. I love women's feet. The look of the arch, the painted toe nails. Even the smell."

I liked Nomar and everyone thought he was ugly so who was I to judge. (That picture still makes me randy btw.).

So we agreed to meet up one night after my class. We met at a sushi place inside of the Copely Mall. I was wearing open toed shoes, per his request. We had some recently acquired fish, talked about some feet and then headed into the movie. We saw Final Destination. I have no idea why I remember that. Maybe it's because Devon Sawa's face was bearing down on me as my footie date grabbed my leg and started to rub his fingers around my toes.

He leaned towards me and whispered, "You have great feet, you know that?"

"Thanks...hehe." The circular motions he was doing on the balls of my feet were starting to tickle!

I didn't mind a little make out session in the movie. I mean shoot, I'm not one to shy away from some theater thumping, but it just caught me so off guard when he grabbed my crossed leg and started to massage my foot. It was also super awkward because of the position I was in. I was leaning to the right as my leg was all the way across my body and in his lap to the left. And naturally since the movie was pretty much empty, the only other couple sitting in the theater were right next to us. 

He basically just made out with my foot through the entire movie. There was no kissing, no mouth on foot action, just him tracing circle patterns on my foot resting in his lap.

I went with the flow. Some part of me felt that I was just being used for my pretty feet but I was fine with it. 

After the movie we went to his car and made out. I'm not going to go into details because my mom reads this but let's just say that I learned a different kind of job that night. Things never did end up progressing with the Foot Fetish Guy. I think that my feet weren't that into it. They were a little shy and not used to being the center of all of that attention.

And I mean really, when you think of all the other fun things you can do with the body, why focus solely on the feet?

COMING SOON: The Foot Fetish Blog.

On Friday I was enjoying calamari and Kettle One with Jen Hill at Eastern Standard when the topic of my date with the Foot Fetish Guy came up. I was giving her the highlights when I stopped mid-sentence and said, "Why haven't I blogged about this?!"

"Um. I have no idea. But you should!" said Jen through laughter.

So stay tuned folks because this blog is going to be horrifyingslashhystericalslashpainfully awkward. And you definitely don't want to miss it.

The One-Upper.

I'm pretty sure we've all been there. You're on a date and your date asks you a seemingly harmless question, "Oh you were on vacation? Where did you go on vacation?"

You (or let's be honest it's me because this blog is always about me): "Oh I just got back from California. I went with two of my best girlfriends."

The date replies with a long pause and then, "Yeah I went to Hawaii for my last vacation. It was amazing."

Then it his you. You're on a date with a One-Upper. God so painful. The One-Upper is the person who asks you a question and then after you answer offers no follow up, but instead comes back with a better answer to their own question. It's annoying and once it happens, totally kills my hard on.

I dated a guy who LITERALLY one-upped me during every conversation

"Oh you drive a Jetta? I like convertibles."

"Yeah I was just in India. That was interesting."

"I've never been to the Cape. I go the the Jersey Shore."

"Halloween's the best holiday ever." (What is it with guys and Halloween?) 

He'd ask me questions and then just go off on a tangent, clearly trying to impress himself because I could've cared less. Once the one-upping begins I lose all interest. I like to think it's a nervous habit but usually it's just an obnoxious character trait.

This happened to me the other night with a different guy:

"So what are you up to right now?"

"I'm sitting on my couch watching Project Runway, waiting for my China conference call to start."

Long pause, "Yeeeeahhh..I hate my conference calls with Bangalore."

GAH!

See here's the thing about the One-Upper. They put you in an awkward position. They are the one to ask the question and then they throw their information at you like a slab of beef. It's all on you to provide the follow-up. I mean what am I supposed to do with "hates Bangalore conference calls?" Because quite frankly, I don't care enough just yet to listen to a more detailed explanation as to why in fact this person hates Bangalore conference calls so as a result I just end up replying, "Oh. Cool." The conversation stops dead in its tracks and I'm left looking like a beast.

I may or may not have dinner plans with a potential one-upper tonight. I'll let you know how that goes.

Crying in a corner with a mouth full of cavities.

I had a dentist appointment yesterday. In preparation for all dentist appointments I usually brush twice, floss, use anti-cavity mouthwash and don't eat or drink for 3 hours prior to the appointment. Actually this is my daily routine anyway. I realize it sounds slightly over the top but in the past 5 years I have developed a crippling fear of having any cavities filled. 

It's actually kind of embarrassing. 

I've been going to this dentist since I was able to go to the dentist. When I was a kid and had to have my teeth drilled, I'm not saying I welcomed it but I was comforted by the laughy fun gas and just concentrated on being high instead of the drill digging into my molar. Then, a few years ago I had a routine appointment and Doc informed me that I had some decay in between two teeth and they'd need to drill. 

Suddenly I started to have a panic attack. I couldn't breathe and tears poured out of my eyes like a broken faucet. Doc and the dental assistant stared at my mascara stained face in shock. 

"Uh...er....open please." 

I cried through the entire procedure. Which in retrospect probably made the process even worse. 

Ever since then I buy floss in bulk. I've been virtually cavity free since that incident with a few missteps here and there which have been dually accompanied by rivers of tears. And whenever Doc comes to examine my X-rays and tells me that I have some spots to watch I start to well up. Oh, and I did get weepy when he told me I had to get a night guard because I clench my jaw at night resulting in cracked teeth. 

So yesterday I went into the dentist's office all prepared to be in and out in 30 minutes. The woman who cleaned my teeth looked like Magda and apparently hadn't cleaned my teeth personally since 1993. She told me I take good care of my choppers and asked me if I was a regular flosser.

"Uh huh."

Then the X-ray portion of the day came. I was relatively calm. Fifteen minutes went by and after Magda had finished slicing my gums up with her razor floss she came back with the X-rays.

Then she let out a low whistle. "Oh.....oooooofffffff......"

 

I twisted my head around, "What?! What is it?????"

"Lisa. Did you ever have braces?"

"No. My teeth are naturally this straight." It's true. I have amazingly straight teeth and never had a brace on this face. "Why?"

"Well you're developing some decay in between and..."

That was all I needed to hear. I started to breath heavy and sweat. I was like this when Doc came in. It has to be said that Doc looks like the man from the Curious George books

"Hi Lisa. How ah you?"

"Fine."

Then Doc and Magda observed my X-rays and in between low mummers I could here, "T6, 40, 38, 5, no no...4....and 5 I suppose."

Doc came over and sat down next to me. "So you have some cavities. And they are at the point now that we have to fill them. We could wait until your next appointment in 6 months but I'd rather not."

Doc  paused and I took this opportunity to burst into tears.

"Ok. Can you get her a tissue?"

Magda handed me the box and I covered my face with a Kleenex.

"Why does this happen to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?" I wailed.

"I know. It's not the type of news you wanted to hear..."

Sob. Sob. Sob. Wah. Wah. Wah.

Still covering my face with the tissue I continued to cry. "I don't  know how this happens! I brush my teeth. I floss. Do you think I need to buy new floss? I use the anti-cavity mouth wash..."

Blank stares.

"I mean I'm not a big milk drinker. I only really have it when I eat cereal because personally I think milk is gross and do you think I should be eating more apples?

"Uuuh...Ya know. S-sometimes it's just genetic."

Groundbreaking. Really sometimes doctors just have all the answers.

I peaked out from behind my tissue. "So...gulp...are we doing this today?

"Oh no. Nooooooooo no no no. We'll set up two appointments. One for the left side. One for the right side."

I sniffled a thank you to Doc and he slipped out of the door, probably pumped that he avoided any future emotional outbursts.

Magda asked me what I was afraid of. "Is it the needle? You afraid of the Novocain?"

"What?  No. I don't mind needles. I watch my blood get drawn. I actually guide the phlebotomist to the correct vein. No. It's the drilling. The sound. The thought of that little drill pecking away at my teeth."

"Oh I see. Well for your appointments definitely bring an iPod and some headphones to drown out the drill sound."

I left the dentist crestfallen but what am I going to do? Not get them filled? Dentures at 27 aren't exactly a selling point ya know?

PS. Magda did ask me if I wanted to get screened for mouth cancer as it's apparently on the rise 27% (I think it was 27%) from last year. She explained that more and more teenagers are getting the mouth cancer. I found this an odd fact and asked her at what age you should start testing. You know like for a mammogram it's around your 40's.

She looked at me through her dentist glasses and said, "Well you know, it's not longer the smoking that's causing the mouth cancer. Now it's the oral sex."

I wanted to melt into a puddle and slide off of the chair.  

Yo Yo Yoga

I say all the time that I need a hobby. My dad thinks I should join some sort of South Boston softball team to relive my glory days as High school captain. That to me is just too intimidating. I talk to Brennon all the time about needing a hobby. He actually blogged about it on Look Back In Anger.  

What would I do for a hobby? Join a book club? I'm so wishy washy with my books. Knitting club? I'd feel more secure doing that if I had a boyfriend. And forget about getting a pet. I can't even take care of plants. I needed something that would be good for my mind and body. The thought of utilizing my gym membership that I pay $75/month crossed my mind but I just hate going to the gym after work. It's such a struggle.

I was talking to JSutt  about doing Yoga and she enthusiastically encouraged me to come to a lunch-time class with her and Alyssa. So today was the day. Ladies and gentlemen I have discovered Yoga. Yeah I know. I'm a little late with this trend. Yoga was so popular like 15 years ago that it's actually come, gone, been replaced by Pilates and is now "in" again.

I loved it! I mean forget about the fact that I was totally unprepared, rolling into the studio in flowy gaucho pants, a large Dunkin's iced tea and no hair tie to tame my wild locks, but even though I had those strikes against me, I really enjoyed myself. It was my first time EVER doing Yoga so even though it was a beginners class I was slightly snervvy.

• Five minutes into the warm ups my bobby pins slid out of my bun and my hair was all in my face.
• Five and a half minutes into the class I started to rain sweat profusely.
• Ten minutes into the class I had to pause every few seconds due to the insane amount of downward facing dogs we were doing. My lack of arms strength made it extremely difficult to move from plank to DFD.
• Fifteen minutes into class I got complimented by the instructor. *woot*
• In through the nose, out through the nose
• Twenty minutes into the class I started to get a muscle spasm in my right hip. When the instructor asked if I was OK I just said "Oh yeah I just have a cramp" and continued to lift my leg, wincing. She then gently informed me that if it hurts I should stop. Dir.
• Still sweating.
• But loving it!
• Don't forget to breathe!
• With fifteen minutes left in the glass I was so drenched that when I went to grab my ankle for a Quad stretch it kept slipping from my grip.

My favorite part was the cool down. Every time the instructor told us to relax a body part (neck, eyes, tongue, face, stomach, knees) a little bit of stress melted away. I was totally into myself and feeling all Yoga-esque when all of a sudden the upstairs tenant arrived home and started to stomp around in her heels up and down the hardwood floors. The Goose-stepping made it hard to meditate and get centered and all that jazz but I'll just have to work on tuning that out for the next class in the event that Mussolini is home when I'm trying to get my Yoga on.

I'm totally picking up a yoga mat this weekend and I promise it will not lay unused in a corner like my now deflated Pilates ball.