Wall Balling and Porn Yoga

So I had a real bad cricket in my shoulder Friday at work (well, I always do since I hover over a computer all day like Quasimodo , but Friday it was particularly crickety).  I remembered that Bejni told me that I could just rub myself (keep your dirty thoughts to yourself please - this is a family program) by putting a small ball on the wall and leaning into the ball and –voilà – instant DIY back rub.  Apparently Darryl stinks at giving back rubs causing Benji to resort to the wall ball method.  Sorry Darryl, I didn’t mean to out your substandard massage abilities – but it’s just the 12 of us (oh, and Jennifer who can’t seem to sign on as an official follower – so 13 of us - unless there are other "silent followers" out there, and if so - show yourselves!!).  Anyway, of course I don’t carry balls to work (well, maybe figuratively) so I dug through my purse to see if I had a ball equivalent.  My new favorite lip balm EOS (stands for Evolution of Smooth) just so happens to be a ball – a tiny ball, but a ball nonetheless – so I gave that a go.  It was actually working pretty well (thanks Benji!), but I suddenly realized that all my contractor buddies had stopped working and were staring at me with WTF? expressions on their faces.  I explained the wall ball method to them and oddly the look of concern did not leave their faces.  In fact they all simultaneously kept looking from me wall balling myself to the open conference room door.  As I may have mentioned before, I am not stupid.  I had positioned myself in a blind spot, so someone would actually have to enter into the room to catch me wall balling – passersby would have been oblivious to the fact that I was wall balling right under their noses.  But, I took the hint, cut my wall balling session short and took my seat.  While I remained unsatisfied, the Ladies of the Conference Room all looked very relieved.  I guess they figured that’s not the kind of attention we need in Conference Room C.

Less than 24 hours after I posted my blog about my outdated technology I get an email from Deborah (aka Pickle) which read “Hey, do you still have a VCR.”  My response was “Oddly I do, it is part of my bedroom TV – an all in one!!  Are you bringing a video to my house or are you just making fun of me?”  What you don’t know is that Deborah was coming to my house for dinner that night and we were thinking of doing a bit of exercising before dining.  After assuring me that she was not making fun of me and after admitting that she also has a VCR (I think it's just me, Deborah and families with kids - no one seems to have $5000 to upgrade their Disney videos), she mentioned that she was going to bring a good yoga video to my house for us to do before dinner.  She also mentioned that she calls it “porn yoga.”  I was intrigued.  I assured her that I had the proper equipment to play this “porn yoga” – but it was only a 13 inch and while in porn land a 13 inch might sounds quite impressive, in TV land it's barely adequate.  Anyway, intrigued by this “porn yoga,” I left work earlier than planned to go move the furniture around and bring the 13 inch all-in-one into the living room.

To be fair, the "porn yoga" video does not actually show anything pornographic (not that there's anything wrong with that) - the yoga is just taught by a really cheesy "Jersey Boy" yoga dude (totally) with Pauly Shore / Kenny G (RIP) tight curly hair who is obscenely good looking and wears jeans and no shirt the whole time while he walks about petting and molesting the yogites (I just made that word up – I wanted to say yoga-doers, but that just sounded weird -  yogites sounded like a better description of the folks doing the yoga in the video) as he corrected their form.  He seemed particularly affectionate towards one of the male yogites.  Yes, of course I have pictures!  We spent most of our yoga time laughing at the video and trying to get the best photos to post for the blog.  We finished our evening off with a vegan soup and a bottle of wine (also vegan)!  I decided to skip the Spoga class because my ovaries hurt.  I have it on good authority that you aren’t supposed to do yoga if your ovaries hurt (unless of course it’s porn yoga and that's a different story altogether).  

Oh, by the way, Deborah has decided that the dude was being sarcastic when he asked how I kept Earl the Cat so trim.  I told her to take her porn yoga and go.

My EOS lip balm for demonstrative purposes only



Cover of the yoga video so you can see it is a legit yoga video
(the all-in-one VCR / TV and display of Menorahs - also legit)



Yoga Master

 

I show you this pic because the chick
is wearing a thong!  While doing yoga!
We saw that thread stretched to its limit, I assure you

 

"Special Corrections" offered
to a struggling yogite

Yoga Master
looking quite pleased with himself

 

This poor yogite just can't seem to get it right..

Me and Deborah doing yoga
Neither of us is wearing a thong
Earl the Cat chose not to participate
(apparently he doesn't like porn yoga)
(he also doesn't like thongs)