I know I said I was going to blog about Dora and the cats next.  I am interviewing her tonight over wine in fact.  I think it’s going to be very informative — that is if you care or want to know what happened to my cats the week my brain exploded.  And you also might care or want to know what happened to Dora.  If all goes as planned, it should be a pretty good continuation of the brain story — of which I still haven’t finished. I still have stories of the second hospital and the recovery.  Some of the things I remember hallucinating, more talk of the wine I really wanted in there, and asking (demanding) that my brother go buy me some Beats by Dre headphones so I could watch TV on my IPAD in peace.  There’s definitely more to come.

I’m posting right now because I’ve now decided definitively that people who do hot yoga don’t tend to be weirder than most. They ARE weirder than most.  Case and point, my class today with one of my favorite teachers, David.  Usually, I’m pretty early to class. I don’t like to rush into the room — I like to feel settled into the room by the time the teacher begins leading practice, but today I had to rush to class because the fucking subway took 20 minutes to come.  I know it’s a holiday, but three F trains came to the downtown side of the tracks while I waited for my one F train to come to the uptown side.  It was sheer torture.  I hate worrying that I’m going to be late.  So already, even before I got to hot weirdo yoga, I was a bit stressed.  I should have just taken a cab, but I was worried that some lame ass NYC street fair would make the trek in a car slow.  In hindsight, I made the wrong choice.

As I ran up the stairs into the studio moments before class was to begin, I noticed I was behind two weirdo guys, who sort of looked like the famous NYC lady who had plastic surgery to make herself look like a cat.  They both were just weird looking — but knowing I was going into weird hot yoga, I wasn’t all that phased.  It only started to bother me when it was only two minutes before class, and these cat like dudes hadn’t paid and didn’t seem prepared at all for what they were heading into.  Nor did they seem to care.  To get the line moving, David just told the cat men to go into the studio and asked that they pay and deal with all their shit afterwards.  That confused them, but they made their way in.  I then checked in, dropped my shoes and ran into the studio to find a place in my favorite row.  (Three.)  Unfortunately, and I didn’t realize this at the time, I ended up right next to the two cat like men.  The weirdest looking of the two was right in front of me and the other one.  And he did something even crazier — he wore his shoes into the studio.  I mean, it’s so obvious when you walk into this place that it’s shoeless –I mean, most yoga studios are in NYC — but this one has a big wall of shoe cubbies right when you walk in.  I’m not sure how this man could have been that non-observant — but he was completely out of it.  And he wore his fucking flip flops right into the hot room.  It was so crazy.  I immediately decided I didn’t like him. (So bad of me to admit that in a yoga class. But I didn’t like him.)

As class began, I also immediately felt the insanity start to swell. That class was just weird.  The weird cat men fought with each other the entire class.  I mean, who fights during a yoga class?  They were snipping at each other. And you’re not even supposed to talk in the studio.  There’s a sign on the door that says “Silence is Golden.”  What the fuck else could that mean but please shut your fucking cat like mouth while you’re in the studio?   And the uglier cat man kept falling over. It was just really uncomfortable. I had to work really hard to zone out.  So I just kept focusing on my breath, blah blah, and tried to pretend like these cat men did not exist.

So I’m working hard to zone these crazy feline men out, but it was really hard because the rest of the class was weird too.  People were moaning — louder than normal.  And a few people kept leaving the room (another sort of frowned upon thing at this studio – they really want everyone to stay in the room the entire class so as not to disrupt the energy)…..Then some woman started laughing.  I think I heard her laugh a few times.  I’m not exactly sure why.  Maybe it was the moaning that made her laugh? Or maybe she was crazy.  I don’t know. It was just a crazy ass class.

Still — I loved it.  It was hard. And I sweat a lot.  And I loved it.  As I usually do. I love my hot weirdo yoga.  And after class I thanked David and told him how weird I thought that class was.  He couldn’t have agreed more.

Now off to prepare my notes for Dora.  xxx  Namaste