Turning back the clock, or forward, whichever is closest

I quite feel like my initial attempt yesterday was off-line... so to speak. Not enough spin to keep it straight. I will consciously try to achieve a more succinct.

The highlights of my unmiraculous day include a morning visit with a grey spider. At first, I thought the odd shadow was a dust bunny, quietly sitting in the top corner of the shower. Until in unfurled it's front legs as if offering to give me a hug. Thanks Charolette, but no thanks. The shower spider was pretty sleepy yesterday, it just voyuered at me for the duration of my cleanliness routine.

Next, on the remarkability touch-points... I made up that phrase, touch-points, I'm so corporate meetingish it hurts my sensibilities like a cranial down-sizing paradign of antimotivational schpeel. Next, yoga. Yes, I yoga'ed yesterday. Not the spiritual, candle and flame as one, sutra for the soul, chickensoup for the tummy, kind of yoga. More like the ladies sitting on the chairs on tv kind of yoga. I was apprehensive whether I should even attend, but my feet moved me there and so I sat, and yoga'edly yoga'ed.

Quickly scanning the "class," I can tell the odds are in my favor. Five gentlemen, including myself, and about forty-five ladies. The downside, and there's always a downside to contemplate, I was maybe the tallest, but also the youngest and lightest in the room. Oh well, I wasn't there to oogle, because oogle is not an indian word. They'd probably say I was there to align my chakra, which is probably true. There's nothing better for a guy than to get his chakra aligned.

So, the most important part of yoga is not your attire... tell that to some of the class. It's not you attitude, as I know plenty of ladies getting way to spiritual in their attitudes. It's not your flexibility... I will admit, her, our instructor was stretchier than the newest bowflex commercial. It's your control of breathing. But I will admit, my respiration turned to chuckles when she kept saying "belly buh-en". Also, her tantric use of the word "ligaments" was oddly not very soothing.

The only other chapter of the day worth noting would be the ride after work. A few brave and mentally short fellows met up, with myself included. A storm was possible during our fantastical bicycle journey, but for whatever reason, there we were, ready to pedal our little tootsies away. Seriously, we were not the royal marines of the cycling community. We were more likely the grunts who hit the beaches first to get rid of those pesky landmines. Anyways, during our magical traversation, I'm encouraged to share all my stories of hookers and strippers and anything else that involves the seedier side of sexual exploitation, as opposed to the other side of sexual exploitation that probably involves the "kiss me you fool" and the "take me" side which I personally find baffling.

Well, I cannot find myself to bring those stories to this table. However, I will say I was thinking of the sex last night while I waited for slumber, sans my little friends, the pills of sleepitude. I was thinking that in my former clutches of lust, or coitus, as creepy professors would say, the female half of the equation always seemed docile. Sure, fingernail scrapings and bruises were inflicted to my flesh, but really, the expected never materializes where one would... expect expected things to happen. Maybe I'll edit this later.

Women, fairly known for being girly, or womanly, or fair, are known for their empathic ways. Their soft and gentle caresses. But in hindsight, it's the male that does all the stimulating touching... well, outside the erogenous areas. Women will sometimes initiate contact and then it's like once they awaken the beast, they just lay back and play their beauty role. However, the congnizant beast will notice his job is just starting. And now I'll drop this subject because I'm not in the mood. (I have a headache, but not really.)

What I really wanted to write about is that I'm getting the sneaky suspicion I being set up the bomb. All my base wants to be belonged by them. What does this mean? It means I think the lesbians have designs again and they're going to try to align my chakra. :(

(Yes, I realize this post was not in the same flavor as the last and that I mentioned Charolette by name... but I was referring to the spider with a fictitious spider's name, so the actual spider's name is still held in confidentiality.)