H. O. Triple T (HOTTT)

I'm fairly sure that the surface of the sun is cooler than the yoga room was today. Holy hell. And it was hell.

First of all, let me be clear, I do this enough that I'm not all that susceptible to a fluctuation of a couple of degrees or a little more or less humidity. Let me also be clear and say that this is a beginners' class. Sure, you can be a beginner for years, but you have to assume that there are some actual beginners all the time...

Today we blazed. And the hippy-fuck instructor wasn't helping. He was one of those fuckers who kept telling us that "at teacher training..." and go on to tell us how lucky we are that we didn't have to go through that kind of stuff. He had a litany of examples of how much harder it is at teacher training and, again, how we lucked out not to have Bikram himself teaching our class. I have a little piece of news for you, Judgy McYoga, it isn't luck. I'm not at teacher training for a reason, asshole. I'm not prepared for that. That's why I'm in your class instead of Bikram's.

He also kept harassing people when they came out of a pose early or sat one out. What the fuck? I don't come to yoga for a hard time. This is not yoga boot camp. It's a beginners practice. A practice that ran long after starting late, I might add. If it didn't happen every time this powertool taught a class, I would overlook it. But it has happened every last time I've had the misfortune of being in one of Judgy's classes.

Fortunately, I quickly became adept at tuning out the stream of shit that ran out of his mouth and just practice, but really, I shouldn't have to. I hate that guy.

There's another instructor at the studio (a favorite of almost everyone) who, at the end of every class reminds us to never let anyone steal our peace. I try to keep that in mind. I tried really hard tonight. But there were a couple of times when all I could think of was jamming my fist into Judgy's adam's apple. At least something gave me a reason to smile in class...