sunday [not so] funday

there's a fine line between saturday night

and sunday morning.

pictures of real people throwing up is gross & immature. this,
on the other hand, is art.

she does clean up nicely, though. i'll give
her that.

moody mudra,

in full effect.

moodivation #3: people who look like this

happy victoria's secret fashion show!!

seriously though, mad respect for these girls. i got pissed off when i had to take communion pictures with my family. can't imagine that torturous ordeal with 100lb wings.

my advice? watch through a "real people don't look like this" lens. also, mtv's "i used to be fat" is currently on, so switching to that when your self-worth plummets works pretty well. also, it's fun to switch back & forth and witness the ironic juxtaposition.

i wish one of the victoria's secret girls used to be fat. THAT would be a show.

moody mudra,

in full effect. 

moody monday: mindfully moody

my sister posted this on my facebook wall because she said it reminded her of me. precious, right?? ugh, it's such a burden to think so distortedly.

this is your right brain on drugs. left brains are overrated, and
usually corporate & math friendly. gross.

moody mudra,

in full effect. 

sunday funday: sundae phunday

no but seriously, what the hell are we even DOING here?

haha i'm kidddinggg, relaxxxxx. i'm just bored, so i figured i'd give the whole "pondering the meaning of life" thing a try. overrated.

all you need to know is this: "life may be not only meaningless but absurd." -thomas nagel.
nagel, you rock. and not only because your last name rhymes with bagel. [but that helps a lot.]

i came to nagel's meaningless & absurd conclusion when i was six-years-old and discovered my tootsie pop was missing the tootsie. 

also, every time i'm hungover or there are no good songs on the radio. and whenever i'm blogging about the meaning of life.

[insert melodramatic, emo-kid-off-his-antidepressants s i g h here.]

moody mudra,

in full effect. 

paint it black friday

AMERICA, land of the free[dom to act affirmatively].

mmmm. smells like gluttony & regret.

ahh, the aroma of the day after thanksgiving... commonly known as black friday, less commonly (but more accurately) known as i-don't-know-what-i-hate-more-my-food-baby-or-my-hangover-from-getting-bombed-at-my-family-party.

pilgrim women are notoriously prudent, which explains
this little guy's pissy face.

the food baby will pass, but the shame you feel from getting wine tears [similar to beer tears, but more sophisticated & tragic] with your grandfather about how your boyfriend caught you cheating and all your friends took your boyfriend's side and someone wrote an anonymous & nasty blog post about you... that'll take a little longer to subside. please keep in mind that this is all hypothetical. i would never get caught.]

in the wise words of elle woods, WE DID IT!! happy day after thanks[forthefourthhelping]giving. i hope you did your country proud & consumed enough calories to nurse a starving african child back to health.

moody mudra,

in full effect.

moodivation #2: evil toddler

moody mudra, 

in full effect.

moodivation #1: april ludgate

moody mudra,

in full effect.

moody monday: manic nosedive

if i were imprisoned in a jail cell, i'd want it to look exactly
like this. crow included. 

so you're rockin' crow pose (bakasana, if you're into that sanskrit thing). your biceps are killin' it; your groins are open for bizzzness; your core is all engaged and sucked in and looking awesome.

and then you just fall on your face.

except sadie nardini would never fall on her face. her chi rocks
harder than the stones. girl crush... guilty.

your nose sends those marsha brady pain waves to your brain and you're just like, "ugh, ffffuuucckkk."

it was a kickass weekend, but it's just another moody monday.
cheers.

yoga's for sissies & hippies, am i right??

side crow pose [parsva bakasana].

side crow in a sun room. much less torture
chamber-esque.

impressed with these kickass chicks? dude, do yoga. [douchebros, i'm talkin' to you.]

moody mudra,

in full effect.

utopia: like disturbia, but less disturbed

in a utopian society, instructions in public restrooms on how to wash your hands would not exist.

same goes for bars of soap. and peanut butter & jelly in the same jar.

and green ketchup.

and boring people.

and guys who whistle at you because you're somewhat physically appealing. or people who honk at you because they know you or recognize you or just get joy out of giving you a casual heart attack while you're on your morning run.

and people who don't comprehend sarcasm. [this is not sarcasm.]

and anime. [it's the cockroach of television; it just. won't. die.]

and people who don't use grammar & the english language correctly. [this, of course, does not apply to me. i am an english major and am therefore granted creative licence by shakespeare to anything written and non-written.]

and chocolate covered bacon. [and bacon covered chocolate. not sure if it exists, but it absolutely should not.]

and hangovers. and hangunders. [this is when you realize the next morning that you didn't drunk enough and everyone had more fun than you.]

and people who stop abruptly in the grocery store. and screaming children in the grocery store. and screaming children at restaurants.

and rainy days two days in a row. [one day is fine; two is just depressing. three? overkill. four? highly excessive. forty? okay god, that's called a power trip.]

and screaming children. [god bless my uterus.] [this is me praying for un-obnoxious children.]

and jeans/sweatshirts that are too tight and make you want to die.

and when your foot or arm falls asleep and you want to die.

and when you slam your fingers in the door and you want to die. [i know i already wrote a post about this; it's clearly a big issue for me.]

and eleven-year-old boys...  because they creep me out with their over-the-cute-stage and under-the-cool/normal-stage weirdness.

and traffic. [not but seriously, i'm worried that the brainhead nerds of this world have not created flying cars yet. quality stairlifts for the elderly and candy cigarettes for children and no flying cars for the disgruntled in-betweeners?! ludicrous.]

and 2:00-4:30 during the workday.

and the workday.

and the day. [JUST KIDDING, i'm not that miserable.]

and turduckens.

and people who are happy all the time... because they're just like that or they're on drugs. either way, it's not natural.

and religious weirdos.

and weirdos. [unless they're the artsy, intellectual type... like e.e. cummings. apparently he didn't capitalize anything?]

and upside-down roller coasters. [JUST KIDDING, again. but seriously, i love the heart-in-your-stomach feeling; makes me feel alive, like stepping on bubble wrap or wearing leopard leggings.]

and people who make lists about things they hate.

and irony. [that's ironic because i absolutely adore irony.]

and ironing.

moody mudra,

in full effect.

sunday funday: be-attitudes

ahhh-men.

blessed are the pours & spirits, for they make the boring fun.

blessed are the firstborn, for they are the only ones worth saving.

blessed are the skinny bitches, for they shall inherit no girth.*

blessed are they who hunger and thirst for bluntness, for their tongues shall have their kill.

blessed are the flexible, for they shall impress yoga classes and sex partners.

blessed are the pure of snark, for they shall be god[desses].

blessed are the sass-shakers, for they shall shake with sass.

blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of being right [all the time], for they shall be right [all the time].

*by "skinny bitches," i do not mean girls who are bitchy because they do not properly nourish their bodies. i am referring to girls who eat well and take care of their bodies and do lots of cool active stuff like yoga and are inherently moody. thisbloginnowaysupportsanorexiaorbulimiaoranytypeofdisorderedeating.

i'll take my moody merlot with ice. no comments from the wine snobs,
europeans, or the pistachio gallery. 

moody mudra,

in full effect. 

&*%$#@&*$!?&!

next time, i'm going to curse in lightning bolts
and tumbleweeds. this woman's a raging genius.

the raw brutality of the things i think and say in the six-second span after i slam my fingers in a door is really quite astonishing. and pretty impressive, given my predominantly passive nature.

[not sure if that last part is sarcasm or not. i even out-snark myself sometimes.]

but seriously, slamming your fingers in a door has got to be at LEAST four times worse than childbirth and two-and-a-half times worse than falling out of bird of paradise, uncommonly known as svarga dvidasana.

moody mudra,

in full effect. 

there's a dbag in my teabag

the little message on my yogi detox tea bag today was, "your heartbeat is the rhythm of your soul."

this isn't a picture of my actual teabag; i threw mine out.
this is via google images, one of the most credible sources
of spiritual counsel and x-rated things. 

well that's just bursting with lyric beauty.

except it's a lie. SLANDER. complete and utter calumny. a statement of the fallacious persuasion, if you know what i'm sayin'.

if you want to get technical, genus: defamation. species: bullshit. [biologists & ecologists, please hold your equidae; i have no intention of being technically correct at any point in this blog.]

in conclusion, my soul dances to the rhythm of shakti, kali, and a mash-up of lady gaga & nicki minaj. my heart has nothing to do with it. in fact, the heart's soporific beat can get quite irksome and has been known to rupture the doldrums.

moody mudra,

in full effect.

happy baby, minus the happy & the baby

if "adorable" were a picture, this would be it. if only mom & baby
were more ethnic; then it could REALLY sell.

well, the title of this post is entirely too descriptive. i'm sure you get the point. but if not, let's elaborate.

happy baby, known by the pretentious yogis as ananda balasana.  it's great for the whole hip opening thing. it's awesome for stretching your sacroiliac joints and inner groins. it's a kickass release for tension in your sacrum and spine. but i'm not inordinately happy and i'm not under the age of twelve months.

i ain't no happy baby. BUT my hips are nice and open, and they're sure as hell happy to see you.

[sex joke, intended. do you even have to ask?]

moody mudra,

in full effect.

you're moody

you're moody, which means you're deep & complex,
which naturally translates to mosaic hair full of secrets and emotions.

you wake up and you hate you pillow for existing. it’s such a sycophantic mound of passive aggressive softness, it makes you sick. you're well aware that the previous sentence made no sense whatsoever, but that matters to you about as much as a grain of sand in the sahara desert. your comforter is three-fourths on the floor and the sheet is all twisty and turney at the bottom of your bed. yup, it’s gonna be one of those days.

that whole “make your bed thing?” not happening.

today, you’re moody. and moody people don’t make their beds. moody people wake up in a mess and leave it like that. because they’re moody and they don’t give a shit. pardon my french… they don’t give a stinking pile of crap.

today, you’re allowed to snap at people. today, you’re allowed to feel the rising heat of rage whenever you experience something faintly frustrating, like if your eyeliner plays that “you can’t find me” game (ugh) or a drop of toothpaste falls onto your sink (gross) or that person in the elevator accidently grazes your arm (REALLY???).

today sucks, but you can get over it because you're going to spread the mood.

you’re not a bitch. you’re just moody.

moody mudra,

 in full effect.

[EDIT: i lied. i would never not make my bed. that kind of behavior is reserved for heathens and pilates instructors.]