Yoga my Arse

Woke up coughing. Working hard. Completely exhausted and addicted to pineapple juice. I’ve decided that Yoga digusts me. A boy (oh and how they do) asked me out last night on a date of what he believed was one of champions….YOGA. (I politely declined.)

Now, i’m not being funny or anything, but i don’t think there is anything more ill mannered that being in a yoga class and having some hippie, some vegan, or some MILF stretch their groin out into my face to mood music, in order to find peace and balance. That’s not a date. That’s a frightful *middle finger* to common British etiquette! Peace and fucking balance!?! Get drunk. Go to Movida. There’s balance and all kinds of peace at the bottom of a free Grey Goose bottle. How dare he!!!

The only time i went to a Yoga class, was in LA when i became mildly aquainted with this old chick called ‘

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