I’m going to talk about loving myself. But don’t be scared. I’m not going to hug myself. I am not going to look in the mirror and tell myself I am a beautiful woman. I am definitely not going to take a smaller mirror and look at my vagina, though if you want to give me 50 bucks, I totally will. What I am going to do is discuss loving myself in terms of not loving poetry.
I am a person of extreme likes and dislikes, but the visceral nature of my response to poetry has always surprised even me. Let’s skip over the childhood experiences because there’s not much [...]
Here is a surprisingly comprehensive list documenting the degree to which certain fans ruin their respective obsessions. Yoga, for example, gets an 8.0 on the "average fan awfulness scale," resulting in 104.3 percent "degree of ruin" ("the percentage of the thing's innate quality that its awful fans knock off"), which only adds up to a 43.09 on the "level of tragedy" scale ("the numerical amount, from one to 100, from which a thing's fans detract from our perception of it"). With a 241.96 degree of ruin, Family Guy is seemingly beyond repair. [Via Digg]
Who is going to be naked first.
Oh that lady’s naked, that was fast.
And now that guy’s naked too.
If I don’t get naked fast I’ll be the only one not naked. OK I’m naked. OK now I’m sitting and I’m naked.
Stop thinking so much.
But I’m naked.
It’s OK, just stop thinking, focus on your breath.
Oh you mean my naked breath.
Yes, fine, your naked breath.
Why are there mirrors.
Don’t worry about it.
There really shouldn’t be mirrors.
Sure, but there are.
Wow late to class, really? Really? With your clothes on and everything you’re gonna walk into a room full of naked people—
Famously, the CEO of Whole Foods, another company much beloved by liberals, is also a Rand devotee and staunch libertarian. It’s easy to dismiss these men as flukes, or to categorize them as savvy capitalists who were able to spot which way the cultural winds were blowing and create a set of products that would serve the wants of the continent’s upperclass. But that hard-right Galtian spirit hasn’t seemed to turn anyone off. In fact, Lululemon has been so successful because, not in spite of, its founder’s combination of woo-woo New Age-iness with a sharply competitive spirit. It’s the same approach many American women (and men) bring to buying [...]
1. “You hear the ice cream truck outside, acknowledge it, then let it go.”
2. “Externally rotate your left foot until it comes to rest behind your left foot.”
3. “Put your weight on your other butt.”
4. “Gentle panting here is encouraged.”
5. “Spiral your pelvis toward President Street.”
6. “Happy Friday!” (Read: it was Sunday afternoon.)
7. “Your skeleton wants to escape your skin.”
8. “Throw your spine to the other side of the room.”
9. “Do you need another blanket for your knees?”
10. “I’m teaching at a Total Silence Immersive Retreat in an ashram upstate. Here is a flier.”
I went to laughter yoga the other night, I guess because I live in a big city and sometimes wear stretchy pants in the street and pretty regularly force-feed myself kale.
Regular yoga is no longer the cure-all for your out-of-balance, toxins-infested mind-body; the cure-all is laughter yoga. Basically, laughter yoga is the new method for scrubbing out our dirty bodies and changing our brain chemistry and banishing sadness and stress from everyone. Forever.
The idea is that laughing is good for you (science says so, after all), and that pretending to laugh can be just as good for your health and wellbeing as actual laughing. So that’s what you [...]
In case you'd like to read more about some of the stuff I've been up to recently, I wrote about trying to get rid of clothes and toiletries for Into the Gloss. The Bragg's Apple Cider Vinegar woman comes up, and in light of the new Katy Perry video and the Bragg's Apple Cider Vinegar woman/Katy Perry everlasting bond, maybe there's some kind of spectral internet alignment between Katy Perry, apple cider vinegar, and … transcendence? Maybe = definitely. Anyway, Friday!
Last spring, I went to a singles yoga class with my roommate. Singles yoga? Yes, singles yoga. It was my friend’s idea; she thought the male teacher was hot and convinced me to come along. But before we left the house, she said, “Wait, Smiley, you can’t wear shorts to a singles yoga class — there’s going to be cute single girls there. You have to wear something nice.” “Wear something nice?” I said. “This is my yoga outfit: t-shirt and basketball shorts. I don’t own those spandex half-pants" — (do guys really feel comfortable in downward dog with their junk just hanging there?) — "so what am I supposed to [...]