Embarassing Tale

Let's just get right to it: I farted in yoga last night. We were three students and one instructor in a 9' x 9' dimly lit room. We were doing some sort of sun or dolphin or ashanti pose (I have no clue; they're really all the same to me). My legs were spread apart, my tailbone was tucked in, my arms were outstretched. I was IN the pose. The energy was flowing out of my out-stretched fingertips. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the...FLOP! It was short and sweet. Frankly, it could have been the mat on the floor as far as the other three members of our crew were conscerned. Regardless, I immediately locked eyes with my mirrored image and continued on my way. The backwards headstand proved a challenge in self-control, but I managed to last the rest of the one-hour class without any more, shall we say, hiccups. Maybe releasing my toxins will help me reach nirvana. Or maybe it's just an embarassing tale.

I'm Living the Life of a Muppet

It has come to my attention that as a child I may have taken the Muppets from "Sesame Street" a bit too seriously. It's Friday, and Bree and I (my co-receptionist, meaning we share the same desk) are in dire need of both sleep AND a martini. And when these desperations come together, what occurs is a conversation much like this (whilst playing online Scrabble):

Bree: Your turn.
Me: What?
Bree: You.
Me: Meh?
Bree: Huh?
Me: Muh?
Bree: Muh.

We have very intelligent conversations. Today, the noises became increasingly rediculous and inelligable (it's been a long week and a longer day) and I realized that we sound like those red muppets I'll now refer to as the muhmuhs. Side note: if anyone knows what these guys are called, your help is much appreciated. I cannot, for some reason, get Jeeves to answer "Who are the Muppet muhmuhs?"

While I was looking on youtube for a Muppet video to help in sleuthing out the muhmuhs' real name, I fell upon Beaker. Might he be what I'm mistaking as the muhmuhs? Answer: no, however, he is in fact the character that Justin compares me to when I whine. I had no idea I was so unoriginal! Nor did I realize that this was what he was doing when my voice turns to the high-pitch range, something that's hard to listen to, I'd imagine, since my voice on a normal day sounds like a mouse on helium.

So, I leave work today wondering if it's just these two Muppets that I embibe, or, as I suspect, is my hole life ONE BIG MUPPET SHOW?

PS. Here's a video of Beaker with a Nose Warmer, and as a half-breed Jew or Italian (the NOSE!), I can say with certainty that this invention is genius. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7S3K9kEASOw&feature=related

Welcome to Paradise

Dear “Sunny” Southern California,

OK, so when I first moved out here in 2007 you gave me May Gray and June Gloom. It took me a while, but I eventually forgave you for that; it really wasn’t your fault that my best friend since 1991 failed to tell me about the crappy spring weather. Then, however, you gave me wild fires in the fall. Scary, yes, but we’ve agreed to disagree and move on. Finally, your weather started to prove to me that you deserve that fabulous nickname, until yesterday that is. It was upon the arrival of a nasty storm—unpredicted, of course—yesterday morning that has caused much upheaval in my life and the lives of all Southern Californians, transplants and natives alike.

You should know by now that Southern Californians cannot handle any sort of inclement weather. On a day of drizzles, traffic slows and accidents abound. On rainy days, roads become parking lots and accidents rule. And yesterday, we found out what happens when the shit hits the fan. What happens, you ask? Because of the rain yesterday, there were 167 documented automobile accidents. Documented. Because of the snow yesterday, major highways were closed, drivers were redirected to shelters, and the fear of black ice (NOT black guys as one radio-listener heard) caused people to strap on chains and head out of the mountains.

Don’t forget, dear SoCal, that yesterday was Valentine’s Day. For many people, your ridiculous weather wreaked havoc in their romantic plans. Fortunately, despite my hour-long home commute, my plans were unaffected, but for those who had to cancel their reservations due to the weather, I feel as though you owe us all an apology. Your behavior yesterday was ridiculous, and in the future, it would be much appreciated if you would change your attitude. Let’s show those East Coasters how you roll! So I ask you, Southern California, nay, plead with you to stop with the wind, the rain, the snow, the hail, the sleet. Give the US Postal Service a break. They’ve proven their worth. And the residents, we’ve proven chaos.

With love,
Stephanie of Pacific Beach

PS. If I have to scrape my windshield one more time, I’m going to move. Not really, but you’d better keep that in the back of your mind anyway.