This post is brought to you by Miss Thystle at www.Missthystle.com
When Lorrie asked me to guest blog, I was like SCORE! More people who will go to bed at night wishing they had never logged on to the Internet! But then, I started to freak out, because HELLO, the people that read my blog should KNOW BETTER by now where as you, Lorrie's readers, are unsuspecting victims.
Frankly, the stress of having to come up with a blog that doesn't liberally employ the some of the languages more colorful and less printable turns of phrase drove me to drink. (Actually, that's not all together true. I was drinking anyway. Because that's just how Irish Girls roll.)
I finally decided that the only fair thing to do would be to tell you poor unsuspecting readers about the time I gave a pair of innocent young men an equally unpleasant surprise. Misery loves company and all that.
About a week ago I bought a Pilate's DVD at Costco. I read the box about how it was for people who had never done it before, it was easy, low impact, required no additional equipment, and best of all it was FUN! Look at how perky the she looks!
See? All bendy and slender and whatever. But all that perkiness belies her EVIL core.
Oh sure, she starts you out all easy with some stretches and stuff
But then, just when you're starting to think, "Hey! I CAN do this! And it's not even that bad!" she starts to get more sadistic.
But, still you're all, "Maybe if the dog were not trying to get in my lap and lick my face while I was doing this, it wouldn't be that bad!" so then you pause the DVD and let the dogs out and do your centering breathing from your ready position and then start the DVD again and wouldn't you know it, in those two minutes that vicious acrobat uncurled her pointy tail and she's all "OKAY! That's great! If you're ready, let's move onto the mat work!" in that chipper voice with it's pleasant accent and you're laying there listening to the dog licking the window and thinking "WTF? I thought we WERE doing mat work!"
But you are thinking wrong. Very, horribly wrong. Because that stuff you just did? That you are kind of light headed from all the deep breathing and centering and shit? THAT was the warm up! The mat work, which has been banned by the Geneva Convention, is yet to come! She expects you to do this
and if that wasn't bad enough, just when you've used the TV credenza to push your knees up over your boobs, a problem that the human pretzel apparently does not suffer from, she uncurls her rubber self and in a calm voice tells you to return to your ready position because guess what? THERE IS MORE.
ARE YOU F-ING KIDDING ME? She can not seriously expect average humans to do this!
OH BUT SHE DOES! Okay, so there you are using the couch for leverage trying to launch your ass up and over your shoulders and the wee wicked bitch calmly informs you that now you should slowly lower yourself back to ready and then DO IT AGAIN.
So now there you are, giggling and grunting and trying to launch yourself into unnatural and wholly improbable positions when what do you know, the Mormon Missionaries approach your screen door and gazing inside mistake you for being in distress and call out "Ma'am? Are you okay?"
Which of course, you are not. Clearly you are mentally unwell and for just a moment, frozen mid-fling looking like a hippo having a seizure you consider yelling for the jaws of life, but instead calmly roll back down to Earth as if all of this were COMPLETELY NORMAL and tell the door to door Jesus sellers that you are in fact fine, just doing a little exercise! Because the body is the Gods temple! And wouldn't they rather come back another time?
Then you firmly close and lock the opaque front door and remind yourself that it all could have been so much worse; you could have bought the Naked Yoga video instead.
3 comments:
I cannot even handle how hard you even made me laugh Miss Thystle...between the Jesus sellers and the possibility of Naked Yoga I was on the f-ing floor...
OMG. Too funny. I think I worked out my "core muscles" from laughing so hard.
In times like this, it's best to just say F%$& it and ditch the tape and grab a cold frosty beer.
A tall one. With a frosted glass.
No, not at home. Get your important core exercise at the local pub.
NOW!
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