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 ‘
Sabrina’ who made out with all my friends, and knew how to spend all my money. (You all have a friend like that.) Anyway, God knows how i ended up there, but i found myself in a heated box of a mirrored (liked that part) room, being told to do back bends, by ugly men in speedos. ‘ Sabrina,’ i believe had slept with them all. The instructor and everything. Infact, she was one of those women who signed up to everything, did a million classes, lived with her Mother in the valley and at night would punish me by reading me extracts of her ‘Womens strength’ bible. I did like her. However, in the end i resented her. I’m not sure how she never snagged a man? But now i don’t care, as she would use me for all the attention she could get…then deliciously bad mouth me to all my friends. I believe she said that i ‘couldn’t fry and egg’ and well i can’t…i don’t have to. 😉 However, then she told my best friend that i apparently claimed she had a moustache?? Erm? Now, i know that’s quite funny…but by this time, i despised her and therefore felt i needed to grab my heels and ‘lotus position’ hop, out of there! Mikey hated her too. That lonely, yoga, bitch!
From that day onward, i’ve not really been too keen on yoga. I don’t feel sweating like a pig, in a room full of other sweaty people, having to ‘downward dog’ on anything, is beneficial for me. I went to the class in my full Queen of Greatness, ‘i could be a legend’ glory. Which means, i went in pink and yellow, like i could’ve quite possibly have been Barbie in a former life. I was actually the best in the class, yet i’m not sure how accurate that statement truely is, as the instructor was a ‘pervy’ one, therefore i’m sure he was more interested in ‘boning’ the ‘balance’ into me. It’s not all bad though! I mean, i do like that bit at the end, where all the lights get dimmed and you go to sleep. I think you’re meant to be breathing and thinking of better times. But i just pass out. I mean fuck that…i probably trailed in at 6am, with a Martini in my hand and stranger in the other. It feels good, to get some kip to a soothing ‘mood’ voice, that goes around the room, feeling you up. You actually have to physical WAKE ME up at the end of class. Like *shake* me and everything. I’ll have drool dribbling down my face, vodka steaming out my pores and a hangover, whilst i’m screaming ‘Daddy didn’t love me.’
I’m never talking to that boy who wanted to take me on a yoga date ever again. Which is fine, as i don’t actually know him, and he doesn’t actually know me. Therefore, i have no real fancy for the fella. He has mistakenly fallen for a fantasy. Another lovely gentleman emailed me a song, that stated he was going to ‘be stuck to me, like glue.’ I enjoyed it. It was funny. Then another was trying to force me to fly to Sweden, which i don’t mind as i enjoy the Swedes. However, the fact that my ‘NO’ came as shock to him, worried me. It makes zero difference to me if you buy me a plane ticket anywhere? If i have never met you or know you, the chances of me flying over to another country to be with you (hahaha) are slim. Yet i am deeply and utterly flattered. I adore you.
What i’m looking for is a good, stable romantic man..who will thoroughly adore me in a manner so precious and give me that delicious ‘love’ that’s written about in fairytales. A MAN! It happens, it does! However, right now a great deal of ever so respectful gentleman bug me everyday with messages that read ‘Date me, Marry me, get your fanny out.‘ Wow! I’m a girl that gets inundated with a jolly share of male attention and i do love it, yet there’s got to be one that actually truely cares.