It occurred to me a few posts back that someone coming upon this blog for the first time might not realize I like to parody annoying, stupid people and use heaping doses of sarcasm on a regular basis. That would mean they would read something like say, my last post (Don’t worry, you get another chance!) and think that I am a really big racist. I’m not (I mean not a BIG racist anyway) I just like to parody the worst of America. Everyone else is going to do it; I might as well join in.
Dave Barry had this problem when he wrote for the Miami Herald, despite the newspaper clearly stating that he was, in fact, a humor columnist. He wrote “Mr. Language Person”, a column in which he purposely murdered the English language. Every time he’d get letters from people who were very offended that he was teaching incorrect grammar. So he wrote another column in which he explained what was B.S. and what wasn’t. I figured I’d try the same thing by taking my last post and using helpful ellipsis in red (closed captioning!) for those who are sarcasm impaired. I realize this is a repeat for some – in that case you can always just read the red parts – like in the Bible they’re the best!
*********(Warning: This Might Look Familiar) ********
I was driving to work today, and singing along to a song from the Disney movie Lilo and Stitch, because – I’m me. (note: weird) I like the Hawaiian songs, so naturally try to sing along (key word is “try”), even though I do not speak Hawaiian (I know “Aloha”), so it sounds kind of like this “Oh like oh e maya a una de tala a oof mana mana a eee eee eee eee oh.” (Well it sounds like that to me cause I don’t speak the language. I’m sure Hawaiians understand it. Probably.)
Then it occurred to me that I didn’t know what their language was really called. (I don’t.) Is it really called Hawaiian? (beats me!) Cause I live in the United States, and we don’t speak United States. Nor do we speak American. (I went to school a lot.) We do speak English (supposedly), but New England English is way different than Southern English, or California English. And if we get online, our English doesn’t look like English at all. (Texting is not writing.) I once looked at an old text and realized I had not capitalized my “I”s, and I cringed because I like to use the word “I” a lot (true) and it just looked like I had barfed preschool on the phone. (I didn’t actually barf. I just typed. I might have made barfing noises.) Or teen, take your pick. (I’m not prejudiced against teens, just honest. Okay I’m prejudiced.)
People speak other languages here too, but we (We being mostly lazy, conservative Americans) expect everyone to also speak English, cause we are Americans, even if we actually borrowed English from the English, you know, before those guys screwed it up so much. (British people didn’t screw it up their own language. Not anymore than Americans did (and do!) I mean really – it’s not a jumper. It’s a sweater. (Why call it a jumper? Does it jump? Then again does a sweater sweat? Language is weird period.) A jumper is something little girls wear, like overalls but with a skirt. (I have no idea why we even make these kinds of jumpers.) And we don’t take lifts, nor do we drive lorries, our cars don’t wear bonnets (Our cars wear hoods! Not really, we just call them hoods or bonnets. Or that thing in front of the car.) , and use a freaking article when you say “I’m going to university.” It’s like we Americans have to tell you everything. (Well Americans certainly want to anyway. Try to ignore us as usual.)
But England is weird too (fun weird!), because they don’t just go by England. They also go by Great Britain, and call themselves British, not Greatish, or Greatish Britainish. (I do like wasting my English education.) Or they could be the United Kingdom if you include the unimportant countries around them, like Scotland. (Scotland is full of very smart people who also hate Donald Trump.) I think. (I have no idea) But again, no United Kindomners. Also do you speak Scottish and Irish, or Gaelic, or just English cause everyone has to speak English because we do? I don’t know. (true!) I have not even bothered to Google this. (also true!) I do know that even the most racist people love foreign accents, so if you have one, come on over. We’ll go crazy for you. (We really will.) Look how successful the Beatles were. It wasn’t cause of their haircuts. (It was cause of their singing.)
Now Spain has it right, because their people speak Spanish, but then Mexico speaks Spanish too. But the two are not actually the same. Which means the Spanish I was taught by a white Anglo woman was Spain Spanish, and does little to help me speak Mexican Spanish, and there are a lot more Mexicans around Texas than there are Spaniards. (true) Just ask Donald Trump. (please don’t) I took several years of Spanish, but still can’t keep up with them because they speak, like, fast. And then you like translate in your head, and have to respond, and I just can’t keep up with all of that. (I suck at Spanish) Yet I see some people switch effortlessly from Spanish to English in one breath and I wonder if they are some sort of magician. (Seriously, how do they DO that?)
Then there’s France. They speak French. Fair enough. But we have people in Louisiana who also speak French. Also Cajun, whatever the heck that is. (Gambit from the X-men speaks it!) Parts of Canada speak French too. They don’t speak Canadian, unless you count those guys who used to say “hooser” on Saturday Night Live. (Anyone remember their names?)
On to Japan. They speak Japanese. Yay. Also English. And Engrish, which is a combination of English and Japanese that usually results in hilarity. Like small children wearing shirts with rather inappropriate words, while smiling big happy smiles. (Look it up. It’s funny!) Of course Americans are known for getting tattoos done in Chinese or Japanese characters (they’re the same, right?) (no) and end up permanently affixed with stupid words. Just because the guy says it means “warrior” doesn’t mean it’s right. You could be walking around with the word “sponge” on your bicep. (Also funny!) I bet our Asian neighbors love it when they see this. (No they don’t.) Asian is another word you can call Japanese, or Chinese, or Korean, or Vietnamese, because a lot of Americans aren’t going to bother with the difference. (True – partly because we really don’t know and don’t want to look like idiots) Because we’re too busy playing their video games. (They do make good video games.)
Africa! Now this is one crazy place. (Africans are not insane. Well not most of them.) They don’t all speak African, you guys. They have different languages and dialects, and if I looked it up, I could probably tell you one of them. (I never looked it up.) I think they sound very cool, even if they aren’t saying anything important, like in the introduction to the Lion King. I heard it’s translated something like “It’s a lion, look it’s a lion” which is better than “Llama, llama, penguins in pajamas” which my friend mentioned, and now I hear every time that movie comes on. (Honestly, I hear nothing else now. Llama, llama.) I asked a student from Africa what some names meant, and Simba means “lion”, Mufasa means “king”, and Scar means “bad guy”. Way to be creative, Disney! (You aren’t at all creative, Disney.)
There are a lot more countries (Try looking at a map. I might.), but I know most of you have no attention span and probably quit somewhere around England (Australians speak English too! Sort of!) so I’ll stop here. (I probably would have stopped way back there too, if I were reading this. Sorry I haven’t read your blogs lately!) Suffice it to say, language is very confusing, especially when it doesn’t even match the country name, so I think everyone should have to change theirs to make it easier (sort of like when you guys all went metric and we didn’t, but yet you still didn’t change back to feet and inches). (I don’t actually think people should change their language, or their metric system. Because of our independence there, I never know how to measure squat.) So a “good day” to those who speak Canadian, United Kingdom, Louisiana, Asian, African, and those other places on the map. You’re welcome. (I’m sorry)
Alice (This isn’t even my real name)
When I first starting dipping into Yoga, I had no idea how freaking deep the yoga ocean was, and by “deep” I’m not talking philosophical, I’m talking THERE IS A LOT OF YOGA CRAP OUT THERE. Books, DVDs, clothing, music, accessories, props, and on and on. Just to give you an example, I did a few searches on Amazon. Here are my results.
191,343,885 in All Departments
22, 794 clothing
25, 559 books
6, 201 DVDs
4, 005 music
Holy Batcrap, Batman! Even taking into consideration that sometimes Amazon thinks an e-reader is related to yoga, and some possible duplications, that’s a lot of stuff for a discipline that is supposed to simplify your life! Also, I find it highly amusing to note that there is more clothing than anything else. Because screw the books and DVDs if you don’t look good while doing Yoga, am I right?
I actually bought some workout clothes back when I was trying various kinds of workouts. Sure I could workout in old sweats, but I like the way some of the clothes hold in areas of your body that otherwise do not stay where you want them to stay. It’s important to have, say, your boobs compressed if you’re a female (and possibly if you’re a male, I’m not judging here) if you do anything physical. Also, in yoga, you really need something that fits fairly well on top unless you want it falling in your face when you are invariably told to turn upside down. Yoga likes people upside down.
I don’t just have clothes, of course. Since I’m a librarian, I admit to having a book problem. I love books. I don’t have nearly the number of books my librarian mother has, but I do have some that I keep for various reasons. Sometimes it’s because they are funny (I have almost everything Dave Barry has ever written) or because they’re pretty or because I swear I’m going to read it someday. The last category is the biggest one. Periodically, I weed out books, donate some, and sell a few to Hastings – at which point I immediately buy more books. As I often say, working in a library for me is like an alcoholic working in a liquor store. Not very healthy. Especially since it’s free, so you can take out as many items as you want and Holy Batcrap in a Hat you want them all, of course.
Libraries are not the free entities they appear, though, my friend. That is a ruse. Suuuure, check out as much stuff as you want, they say. Oh, but you will have to pay fines when you forget to return the books on time. And you will forget to return the books on time. Because you’ve lost them, haven’t you? And now you have to buy the books from us. Thank you for supporting your public library!
Since I am guilty of this very thing, I figured I’d just buy some books, especially if they were on the bargain rack (discount liquor, guys!) So now I have several books. But I haven’t even scratched the surface. I’ve figured something out. If I want to get published, I should write a book on yoga. There are so many, probably no one would notice that I don’t have the faintest idea what I’m talking about. And I know the title. Yoga Twilight Sexy Times. Bestseller for sure.
Then there are the DVDs. Oh, so many. I love comparing instructors. The boring ones, the hyperactive insane ones (see the spooky Kundalini chic), the evil ones (yoga meltdown, noooo) the zen ones, the athletic ones, the scarily skinny ones, and the ones who stepped out of a Richard Simmons video. Just looking at the beginner DVDs alone is astounding, especially what they consider to be “beginner.” I’ve started with some only to stop and just watch the instructor continue to bounce from one position to the next, down dog, salute the sun, down dog, salute the sun, down dog, I’m not saluting the freaking sun again so stop it!
And finally, let’s not forget the props! Sure, technically you could do yoga without this crap, but where’s the fun in that? You’ll need a mat, of course, that’s a given. Try to make it an actual yoga mat, and not a fruity sixties bathmat. Then there’s yoga blocks (don’t tell me to use my yoga books as blocks those are for sitting on my bookshelf and looking pretty!), yoga blankets (really), yoga bolsters, yoga beads (like the rosary without the Catholic), yoga straps (a belt, but way cooler, cause it’s, um, yoga). It’s outrageous what you can pay for some of this stuff, all so that you can relax already. But I’ll admit, I bought some of it. Bolsters are overpriced, but worth it, because they are really supportive of your body. I have one that I was going to take a picture of, but I lost my camera. Anyway, my yoga teacher made it, it is beautiful, and I call it my preciousssss. There is nothing wrong with me.
So anyway, with all this stuff, you can start to get slightly overwhelmed, yes? I know I have! But I like to throw myself into learning new things head first (I have gotten a few head injuries this way). If you want some real details with pictures and links and stuff, go see this post at braith an’ lithe’s blog. There’s some cool stuff here. Okay, so it’s stuff from the U.K., but it gives you an idea of what’s out there. Have fun, and remember – a yoga bolster can act as a floatation device if you are afraid of drowning in yoga metaphors. Good luck and Namaste and all that.