I Was A Musical Prodigy

They say people don't change. Thank God I was such a normal child.

"I love being taped. That's why I always want to be taped."

Also - this post has nothing to do with the fact that it's Valentine's Day. Nothing at all.

Stop making suppositions.

Please Stop Nodding

On my run this morning, an entertaining memory popped into my head that made me smile and kind of laugh. At the same time, my lips felt really dry, so I licked them. Apparently suggestively. Thanks to the glaring sun, what I did not see in front of me, as I was smiling and running my tongue across my lips, were the two homies staring at me. Also smiling. And nodding. Suggestively.

Head down. Pick up pace. Take different route on the way home.

My Boyfriend is Mildly Protective

ithinkironyisSOfunny and I decided to go to The Den on Sunset last night to grab a couple drinks and a bite to eat. A nice mellow, casual place to hang out and chat with your friend.

Enter Jeremy.

Jeremy was our waiter. Jeremy decided to sit down at our table with us. Ok. The first time, kind of funny, we get it, you like to have fun with your customers, clever little joke you just made about the three of us dating, haha, ok please get up now and take our order.

Jeremy did not get up. Jeremy told us ALL about himself. He's an actor. He said he studied at the Beverly Hills Playhouse. I said ooh. He asked what that ooh meant. I said it was a polite, I've never heard of that and know nothing about it, but I'm not judging you ooh.

Things clearly started off well.

We finally got Jeremy to take our order and leave our table for a second. We were in the middle of a serious conversation when he sat himself down again. I was tempted to ask if someone could take that chair away. There was a very pregnant pause while ithinkironyisSOfunny and I stopped in the middle of our sentences and gave him an awkward, "you're really back again?" look. He ignored that look and jumped right into another diatribe about himself and our alleged future relationship. At this point, the chef brought out the food that was apparently sitting there, getting cold, while Jeremy made himself comfortable at our table. We sent him away to get us silverware.

He came back.

Sitting in the chair, he proceeded to ask if I'm a famous actress and if he should not be hitting on me right now. "Is that a two-part question?" He then told a lovely little tale about the time he told Jon Hamm he was a very charming man and should be an actor. Yup. That happened. Not the him telling Jon Hamm he was charming thing - that I have no idea - but he really sat there and told us that story, finding himself very charming.

Somehow we got him to leave again.

We were seriously in the middle of a minor heart-to-heart convo when Jeremy forced himself on our table once again. He invited us to their karaoke night. Then he invited me to karaoke somewhere else. With him. When he's not working. AWKWARD SILENCE, STIFLED LAUGHTER. "Your boyfriend would probably be upset." I nod. "You have a boyfriend?" I nod and say "he's mildly protective." He tries to make a joke. He fails. ithinkironyisSOfunny lets him know that he has been rudely interrupting our serious conversation.

We only had to talk to him about five more times before we were able to leave.

Oh. And he kept calling me Becky.

I'm pretty sure he just wanted someone to call him Brad.

You Know the Jingle

What's better than being a salesperson, in a tacky uniform, at a cheesy retail establishment in real life?

Playing one on TV.

Obviously.

I Fail To See Your Logic

There are some things in life that are more difficult for some people than others. For instance, focusing. And breathing. And being quiet for an hour and a half.

Enter Bikram Yoga. I look forward to my (completely inflexible/slightly neurotic version of a) bikram practice as a daily oasis. No matter what is going on in my day, I know that all I have to do is stay in a sweaty room and slowly make my way through 26 poses to achieve that sense of calm that oozes from the instructor's unnatural "I'm trying to hypnotize you" voice.

Of course, mine only lasts until I get back on the freeway and someone is driving SO SLOW IN THE LEFT LANE WHY ARE YOU DRIVING SO SLOW WHEN THERE ARE THREE OTHER LANES FOR PEOPLE LIKE YOU?!?!? But that's not really important.

What is really important is that there are rules to be followed in the yoga studio. Rules such as: stay in the room, don't talk to anyone around you, honor the rules of the building by putting on a shirt before you leave.

I get incredibly irritated by people who can't seem to understand these rules. Well, minus the last one. I don't really understand that one, either. But, I am very conscientious to abide by these rules. Mostly because I like to avoid uncomfortable conversations filled with soft nods and understanding gazes.

There is apparently another rule.

No cell phones allowed in the studio.

Right. So, I always bring my blackberry into the studio with me. On silent. Turned over so no one will be annoyed by the red flashing light. It could not be a more innocuous presence in the room.

Sooo last Wednesday. 7am class. I am already kind of stressed out about something. I don't remember what it was, but I'm sure it was really important. Point is, I REALLY needed to lie in savasana and take some deep breaths.

By the time we get to camel pose, I am in a fantastic mood. If I blacked out for a second, I would see birds singing outside my window. Just a few more poses to go before I can spread this newfound cheer to the rest of the world.

Suddenly, the instructor appears at the base of my mat. I expected to hear her telling me I was neglecting to pull up on my heels or push my hips forward, but no. No. She says. Out loud. "Oh, I didn't even notice this cell phone." Passive-aggressiveness is annoying. Passive-aggressiveness in 'yoga voice' is absolutely maddening. I tried to ignore her, but my focus was already broken. Let's be honest, that doesn't really take much.

As we ready ourselves for the next position, she kneels next to my mat and says, "Stacie, is that your cellphone?" I give up on my 'pulling - that is the key to stretching' and nod. "We don't allow cell phones in the studio."

Great. This seems like the appropriate time for this conversation. When we are almost done with class and everyone is trying to focus and zen out.

She continues on to say that the policy is that we leave everything in the dressing room and "honor our fellow yogis by trusting our belongings in a community setting."

There are so many things that were going through my head:

A. Not one single person would have had their class disturbed if you had not decided to call out my blackberry attachment in the middle of class. And I'm pretty sure the point of not allowing cell phones is to make sure that people do not have their class disturbed. So I fail to see the logic in your actions.

B. Honor our fellow yogis by trusting our belongings in a community setting?? REALLY? Because I've had four blackberries stolen in the last year. I would like to take my honor back along with those blackberries, thanks. (Also,after last night's 90210, there is no way I'm trusting my belongings around those people.)

C. I hate everyone.

The next day, I hid my blackberry under my t-shirt. Passive-aggressive that.