BAD YOGA

After a 2 week hiatus from doing yoga, which serves to keep me grounded and healthy and not so angry, I was inundated with some lousy goddamn yoga.  What a way to ease back into it.

The studio was way the hell out in Brooklyn, Carroll Gardens me thinks.  All I know is I rode that G train for about a fucking month before I got there.  The space was pretty much a converted house crawling with children.  It was like a soup kitchen for wannabe yogis/new-agers/athlete's of the spiritual fuck tard variety.  I was surprised when the guy told me a class costs $10, but now I know better than to need a beating from the red flag.

The second clue I should have picked up on was the children's jazzercise class that was being conducted while I threw away $10 dollars at the check-in desk.  Shit show.  Why would anyone want their child to dance like Britney Spears, when we all know how that one turned out?

The third clue: an acting class was being conducted in the room our yoga class was to take place in.  We waited in the hall before class, hearing the young hopeful thespians grunting like apes.  I wonder what the room would become after the yoga class was done...a kindergarden classroom?  Come to think of it, I saw some chalk boards hanging on the wall with children's drawings on them, and there was an eight year old in the yoga class....hmmm.  Damn.  You know it's a bad sign when there's a pre-pubescent child taking the same yoga class as you.  

Then I understood.  It was going to be a really bad class when the teacher walked in, and she was a tubby little fucker.  I hate fatso yoga teachers.  How am I supposed to believe in you?  Go on and do some push ups girl.  Trade that donut in for some rice cakes.  Be a leader.  Care more!

As soon as she opened her mouth, she kept on dropping her own stock.  "Oh!  Let's face due south today, wouldn't it be nice if we faced the windows?  I think it's nicer...Ok, no, let's face due north then...let's keep it just as it was.  And can everyone please grab 2 blocks?"

Bitch.  I don't need blocks, ok?  If I need blocks, I will grab blocks.  I know what I need and it isn't a block.  Teachers who insist on using blocks don't even end up incorporating them into the practice anyway.  And guess what?  We really didn't need them.  No kidding.

Then she insisted on pointing out that people were actually taking her class: "I see some new faces here...Are we new to the studio?  Or my class?  Or both?"

And she actually waited for an answer.  She would not move on until we appeased her flighty fucking meanderings.  Then we finally started the class.  I gathered we'd be off to a slow start, and we sure were.  Without warning, she went into an Om chant and I suppose she wanted us to chant along.  Many did, but I refrained.

"Wo-yoooooooooooooooo..."

Silence.

"Wo-hoooooooooooooooo..."

Umm.  Wo-yo indeed.  The rest of the class was a weak delivery, poorly thought out, unchallenging, terribly uncreative, UNSAFE, I mean it was a real shit bath.  All the no's were in play here.  This woman had us going into pigeon and splits when we were completely cold.  I would've torn both my hamstrings and ACL if it were up to her.  And she did the annoying yoga voice.  I hate yoga voice!!!  Inhaaaale one, exhaaale twoooo, inhale threeeee...goooood.  She verbalized every breath count.  Every one.  It got redundant to say the least.  You don't have to count every single breath.  Especially with the yoga voice.  Less is more.

It felt like the longest class of my life.  I really wanted to shoot myself in the foot.  I wanted out.  I wanted to give up.  I wanted a mutiny.  THIS CLASS GARGLED MY BALLS.  

And please remind of why I'm not a yoga teacher again?  Oh yeah, I know why, because up until now I've been a big fat pussy who is afraid of failure.  Well things are different now.  This will not stand.  I could never be that bad, and if she's teaching humans yoga, I sure as shit will be doing something to offset it.  Wait for it.  Waaiiiit for it....