Cu' He Don Like U

After a lager and a half on a humble wednesday evening, I ventured into the bathroom at the Bishop's Collar to relieve myself. There were 2 other women waiting on the 2 small stalls. One woman finished, allowing one in, and we were wondering what was up with the other stall. The door wasn't all the way closed and a girl in a large red sweatshirt was leaning up against the wall, talking on her cell-phone. I thought it was rude, while a few people were waiting to take up the stall, but i waited. When the 3rd person went into the one available stall, I really wondered what this stall-hogger was on. So i lightly tapped on her door and asked, "Can i use the bathroom?" No response. So i waited my turn, used the other stall. Now i'm sitting on the pot (finally) merrily peeing, and overhearing this chick on the phone. "But don't you think that's saying something? you never want to come hang out with me..you never visit...why?"

And I don't know if it was a stressful day, or the rudeness of this person, but there was no holding back what followed. In a steady voice i blurted, "Cuz He Don Like U". I then left the stall, washed my hands and giddily returned to my table.

A few moments later, the red sweatshirt walked by, glaring in my direction, the kinda stare only a drunk could maintain. She then perched herself at the edge of the bar, staring at me.

I laughed to myself, avoided eye contact and couldn't wait to fill my friends in on the circumstance. In a younger year, I may have welcomed a confrontation, but I paid my bill, left the bar and then exploded into laughter.

One could say i behaved like a chick from "Mean Girls" but really I just gave a very rude person something to chew on.
And please, the guy doesn't want her...someone had to break it to her :)

Namaste Nightmares

This morning I awoke relieved to discover that my dreams were not reality. My nightmare unfolded like a suspense-horror film. The day started like any other; my yoga mat in hand, I walked to my regular 5:15 Wednesday class. There were no hints along the way until I rounded the corner to walk upstairs at my gym towards the yoga studio. I saw more people than normal, lined up laying on mats on the floor. Bodies and mats were closer than normal to fit us all in, packed like sujvathsana sardines. The silence was deafening when instead of our guru Renata, the owner of the gym entered the room. He broke the devastating news that the gym would no longer offer yoga classes. That we could practice on our own, or in groups..but there would be no more instructors.
The group quickly divided into pockets of different reactions. One die-hard group went right to down-dog and invincibly went forward with their practice. Others resigned to kick-boxing or step...and then there was my camp. We sobbed and carried on like the poor souls at the Astrodome, weeping on our mats at the loss we had incurred. How could life go on? It would never be the same... (to be continued)

Namaste Nightmares

This morning I awoke relieved to discover that my dreams were not reality. My nightmare unfolded like a suspense-horror film. The day started like any other; my yoga mat in hand, I walked to my regular 5:15 Wednesday class. There were no hints along the way until I rounded the corner to walk upstairs at my gym towards the yoga studio. I saw more people than normal, lined up laying on mats on the floor. Bodies and mats were closer than normal to fit us all in, packed like sujvathsana sardines. The silence was deafening when instead of our guru Renata, the owner of the gym entered the room. He broke the devastating news that the gym would no longer offer yoga classes. That we could practice on our own, or in groups..but there would be no more instructors.
The group quickly divided into pockets of different reactions. One die-hard group went right to down-dog and invincibly went forward with their practice. Others resigned to kick-boxing or step...and then there was my camp. We sobbed and carried on like the poor souls at the Astrodome, weeping on our mats at the loss we had incurred. How could life go on? It would never be the same... (to be continued)