Rome - Resurrected Chef
Ireland - Plastered Chef
Fiji - Pampered Chief
Libya - Parched Chef
Utah - Pampered Joseph
Prague - Pampered Czech
China - Crouching Tiger, Pouncing Chef
Amsterdam - Stoned Chef
AIG - Luxury European Spa Pampered Chef
North Korea - Lil’ Chef
Cuba - Pampered Chevy
Scattegories category: Something found in a park.
Letter: R
Me: Rod Iron Fence
Score: Big fat zero
Note to self: 1) Don’t mix gingertinis with word games, and 2) consider the possibility that somewhere in the world there has to be a guy named Rod Iron-Fence and chances are, he’s been to the park.
Welcome to Happy Hour yoga, everyone!
You’ll need a mat, a blanket, two blocks and a cocktail.
Let’s start in a seated position, with one hand on your knee and the other holding your beverage. Take a deep breath in and exhale. On your second inhale, take a big drink and then place your beverage to the side of your mat. With your hands to your heart, close your eyes and join me in saying three “ohmy’s.”
Great job! Now, instead of boring ole Triangle pose, let’s have some fun and do a parallelogram! No, wait. Make that an Archimedean spiral! Take a few more sips and then just spin around and round and round. Oops, you might want to put your martini down first, April. Same goes for you Jerry. Melody, you can change in the bathroom down the hall.
Super guys, refresh your drinks and prepare for Hoochanasana or on the rocks pose. Use your blocks for support. If this one is new to you, just do whatever you think sounds fun. Take another swig or two and then hold the pose for another five…four…three…two…one and release. Awesome! Go ahead and get another round and then we’ll set up for our next position.
Man, that stout makes me burpy! I’m gonna do a quick belch-removing pose. Any takers? Right on. Hit the mat and let’s do it! Buuuuuurrrrrp and release.
Bottoms up, people! No seriously, let’s go right into a forward bend with Slouching Tiger pose. Just hang there for a sec, bounce, growl, wiggle or whatever. Now, step back into Downward Facing Slog. Take your time. If it’s available to you, reach for your beverage, cock your head and take another gulp. Careful not to spill!
Many of you have already taken on Slurayasana without even knowing it. That’s hysterical. Especially you, April. I thought you were kind of a prude at first. But hey, a tipsy chi is a happy chi, right? Totally. Speaking of, let’s go ahead and get another round!
Those of you with tight muscles will appreciate this next one! It’s called Sloshasana or stumbling frog pose and it will loosen up even the tightest of bitches! Just get on all fours and sort of hop or crawl forward. Many of you will naturally fall into Plasteredasana or drunk juvenile pose and that’s okay. Just go with it and feel free to refresh your bevies at any time. Don’t forget to use your blankets to wipe your chins.
Anyone for Sober pose? I didn’t think so!
Now with arms out to your sides, let’s attempt Staggersana or crooked line pose. Just a few steps in whatever direction is fine. Just try not to trip on your blocks or run into anyone. Stretch those arms out, people! Can you feel your chest opening? Your chest, Jerry, not your neighbor’s. Geez. And release.
Great everyone! It doesn’t appear we can do much more so let’s grab a nightcap and take Impairedasana or legal limit pose. Slump up against the wall, lay on your stomach or curl up with you’re your blocks and rest. Just don’t close your eyes or you might feel queasy and the last thing we want is for someone to get stuck in heaving monkey pose! Yuck.
Thanks for coming, you guys. If you remember any of this, tell your friends. Otherwise, nam-ste y’all.
While my family of hybrid cat/racoons or “catoons,” as I call them, bring me great joy, there’s still room in my heart (and on the bed) for someone special. Show me your whiskers and we’ll show you ours! ;) Match.com. Sometimes it’s okay not to look.
Chunky Monkey is great if you’re an ice cream but not if you’re a lady looking for a real man. I work out a lot and my woman should, too. Match.com. Sometimes it’s okay not to look.
Reincarnated medieval nobleman looking for busty wench/gymnast type for mead-soaked walks on the beach. Match.com. Sometimes it’s okay not to look.
My prince won’t come because he doesn’t exist. If he did, he’d probably come hobbling on one foot, expect me to drive him everywhere and take care of his home-bound mother. Life is short and it mostly sucks but hey, I don’t want to be alone while I’m in it. Know what I mean? Match.com. Sometimes it’s okay not to look.
Mom’s been real snotty since she moved down South. It starts in the morning, saturates the afternoon and drips on down with the setting sun. Not a conversation goes by without a low blow, high sniffle or all-out ear-shattering sneeze brought on by the torrential storm that is her allergy-engulfed nasal passages.
Are you taking anything? I asked her one day.
Doooh, she said, as if she had Nerf footballs shoved up her nostrils.
Mom, seriously, you’ve got to take something.
Doooh, duthing seems duh wuk.
What exactly have you tried?
Wuhl, Benadwil jus mayes me seepy. An dat ding yo dister dave me didun work eader.
What ding?
Duh nose potty.
She was so close. She had the concept and many of the letters right, but the actual term escaped her (or was blown out of her head in a violent sneezing frenzy).
I first heard of the neti pot when my allergist, mistaking me for a four year old, asked what I did when I was dirty. Depends if I drink vodka or red wine, I thought, reminiscing on near-acrobatic displays of affection. You take a bath!, she said incredulously. Same goes for your nose: if it’s filled with allergens, you gotta wash ‘em out! Grateful that she put it into terms me and any neighborhood preschooler could understand, I went out and got a neti pot of my own. While it does offer a little relief, I mostly enjoy swishing the saline solution around my sinus tunnels and having it pour out the opposite nostril. It’s fascinating. But that’s just me.
A friend of mine who was getting over a cold referred to it as a naughty pot. I’m pretty sure he meant neti but in considering his frequent memory lapses and ravenous appetite for deep fried Twinkies and Cherry Coke, maybe he got his hands on some really good ganja. Note to self.
But nose potty was new. And inspiring. I imagined a plethora of colorfully named products hitting the shelves and attracting throngs of stuffy consumers. The Schnoz Bidet, Snout Flusher or Honker Loo would flush you back to your senses. Sniff or get on the pot! The ads would say. Nose constipated? Try BoogerLax—the enema for your nose!
Maybe you need to be potty trained, I quipped, imagining my mother kneeling in front of the toilet, angling her nose to the inside rim and reaching for the handle.
Verwy funny, she replied, punctuating her misery with a resounding ah-choo!