yoga humor, yogini style, yoga personality, yoga tips - Y is for Yogini

a few YIFY yoga nuggets you mayn't have perused yet { for your friday attention span }

photo credit: asksistermarymartha.blogspot.com

It has been said that Friday is a good day to goof off. I encourage you to read about yoga while you noodle and canoodle today. This makes the dorking around feel more spiritual.

Sometimes I write, aka make yoga graffiti, at YogaDork.com. I'm enclosing a few of my posts. I hope you find them entertaining and laugh enough to need new pants. :)

The Most Controversial, Scandalous Yoga Mats of 2011

Harry Potter vs Star Wars vs Anusara Yoga

Yoga Teachers: 10 Tweets Guaranteed to Get You Fired

Real Yoga Beauties of Venice Beach (Say Wha?)

America's Next Top Yogini (Even Top Models Take Child's Pose)

7 Rejected Yoga DVD Titles

Whiskey-A-Yoga: The Yoga Drinking Game

The Yoga of Cops (Whatcha Gonna Do?)

5 ways yoga is like s&m { oooh! ouch! }

photo credit: time.com

I've got my pleather yoga strap in hand and you better believe I'm going there. While the more apropos term is "BDSM," I feel like S&M still holds a certain delicious dirtiness. It's best you agree, considering I'm the one holding the whip. { too much too soon? heh. didn't think so. you love it, dirty bird! }

Let's get two things out of the way before we begin: 1) Yoga can be like S&M if you are a type-a pusher or tango with these tendencies, so don't get all feisty with me if you have a sweet, honest practice that reads more Disney than The Brothers Grimm. 2) Our safe word is "ahimsa."

1. Bondage - Yoga straps, bound baddha konasana, and strangling sports bras (why are they ALL like this?!). And teachers always seem suspiciously giddy to "help" you bind yourself up or get you a strap. Hmmm...
2. Sadism - We've all had a teacher like this. You know who you are and you are way too jolly when you gleefully exclaim, "We're doing to do a LOT of core work today!" Your cheery little face masks a devious, blackened, sadistic heart.
3. (Erotic) Asphyxiation - Let's come clean. We do this to ourselves. When things get particularly gritty in class or the nemesis pose rears its challenging head, we hold our breath. And hold. And forget we're holding. And hold some more.
4. Masochism - Whether it's mental (self-talk such as, "No Child's Pose for you, pansy-ass sassafrass!") or physical (toes dig into your mat, teeth gritted, sweat beads upon your brow, pose held for dear life), we do it again and again. Because we are pushers and punishers. We see no edge, no borders, no boundaries.
5. Deviants - The more vanilla and mainstream yoga goes, the more underground the yogasphere goes. We keep our words and our practice real. We are deviant because we deviate. By choice. We follow our own rules. I don't know about you, but that gets me hot and bothered.

To my fellow pushers, I send you blissful ease and a dose of straightforward sensualism. To my fellow yogic deviants, crack the whip!

With tough love from atop my custom-studded Manduka Black,

confessions of a yogini { savasana + corpses }

photo credit: yogazone.co.za 

Because I attend The Church of Lo { uhm, the temple in my mind }, I don't really have anywhere to confess. So I thought maybe I could confess to you. I hope that's okay. ;) This may become a regular thing, if I get good at telling the so very bad...

Confession: Sometimes, when all the sweet, silent little bodies in yoga class are lying there peacefully, enjoying a sumptuous yoga nidra, I am doing another thing altogether. I am thinking, "What if all these people in Corpse Pose REALLY WERE CORPSES." Just me, myself, and I sprawled amidst a sea of uninhabited bodies.

Let me further establish my creep-hood by confessing to you that this doesn't freak me out, like it probably would a normal person. Now before you have visions of projected necrophilia dancing in your head — STOP. It ain't like that. I just find the thought...bizarrely intriguing. What would I do? How would I react? How did they get that way? Does yoga kill? What if they become yombies? { = yoga zombies. ok, ok, i made that up. } My overactive mind rains thoughts down like falling toe-tags.

Don't leave me hangin.' Have you ever thought any of those things? Or am I just loco? On second thought, let's not answer the latter.

i wanna be your yoga pants! { 5 of the worst yoga pick-up lines }

photo credit: Krista Cahill/Hard Tail

Bryan Adams has this awesome song that I dig in a big way — I Wanna Be Your Underwear. And while the song works, if someone said that to me, I'd probably deliver a proper old-fashioned stinging slap. The cheek! No pun intended. :)

5 of the Worst Yoga Pick-up Lines:

1. "I wanna be your yoga pants." { Uhm, no. You don't. They're grody, sweat-soaked, and have been overly friendly with the lady bizness unmentionables. The latter probably works for you, but naughty bits that have been worked out are not fit for consumption. }
2. "You could bounce a quarter off that asana!" { It would be much more flattering if you'd said a benjamin, not chump change, fool. In the twangy words of country man Travis Tritt, "Here's a quarter, call someone who cares." }
3. "So...do you work out?" { We're in yoga, b*tch. Of course I work out. This ain't Tai Chi." }
4. "Do you come here often?" { You've been hovering around my matspace for the last few months and trying to catch my drishti. Are we really going to play this game? }
5. "Whoa, you're flexible. I bet that comes in handy outside of class." This, said accompanied by a lascivious leer. { If you like your balls, and we all know you're obsessed with them, don't say this. }

And now, childrensss...time for share and tell! Do divulge the worst line used on you in life. Or perhaps...the douchiest line you've ever tried to play out. :P

{ for a little fun, check out these old skool pick-up lines from the Fresh Prince, aka Will Smith. }

the yoga class that wasn't { i am a student. not your therapist. }

artwork credit: Charles Schultz { with a little help from YIFY }

At the risk of sounding like pure, pure assholio-ness, I have to say that I had a completely strangé (yes, accent on the "e") yoga class today.

I paid to be a yoga teacher's therapist.

You read that right. And I did. If you're looking for the bright side, you could say that my yoga for the day was providing an (unintended) open ear for a teacher who was obviously in need of verbal and emotional release. But I have to be honest and say I feel abused.

The Yoga Class That Isn't a Class:

1. 5% asana, 95% dialogue.
2. Said dialogue is of the verbal diarrhea, personal trauma, my life sucks, my relationship is in a shambles, wahhhh nature.
3. I should call the popo because you just R'd my ears and my time.
4. This is the ONE place where it's okay to bring my shit along with me in hopes that it will dissolve into my mat. Call me an asshole, but I don't have enough room for your shit. Isn't that why you take classes, too?
5. When three people leave — one slamming the door behind her in a huff, uhhh, there's a PROBLEM.
6. I don't wanna talk about my feeeeelings. And I don't want to hear the dregs and depths of yours. We only have 90 minutes, you know.
7. Your strange physical ailments are not proper class inspiration. I need you to speak Sanskrit to me.
8. For the love of Patanjali and everyone else on the 405, work me out, don't talk me out. Nobody needs to be exposed to my frequent bouts of road rage. Help those little drivers. They need you.
9. I understand that YOU are not MY therapist. This should be a two-way street.

But I was polite. And understanding. I nodded and looked sympathetic. For an hour and a half.

Any bulldog bill collectors out there? I'm due money for yoga therapy services rendered.