Yoga’s Got the Goods + Plate Talk
Tonight’s Hot Yoga class was actually pleasant despite being forced into all sorts of uncomfortable and inhumane contortions in unbearable heat.
Tonight, I somehow got the instructor’s phone number. Not her office number - her personal one. I think she kind of felt sorry for me because I sprained my groin very badly. Let that be a tip to you hopeless fellows out there. Ladies feel bad about saying no to men in severe physical pain.
Back at the base, our most heinous and diabolical plan yet is going exceedingly well. It involves commemorative Barrack Obama collector’s plates. We are making tons of them. No, they don’t explode. And they’re not secretly hypnosis devices. They’re actual, honest-to-goodness plates with Obama on them. And you fools are buying them by the tens!
Just a note about those, actually - we’re just stamping Obama’s face over mine because our first run of those plates back in ‘01 didn’t go so well. I’m glad I was a proponent for keeping them in the warehouse instead of destroying them. I’M TALKING TO YOU, DESTRO!
