Please Don’t Sign Up for Yoga This Week

yoga class So, I was gonna go to my Bikram yoga class today, but when I got there a million people had already set up in the room and I left in disgust.

That’s right. I do Bikram yoga (very) occasionally. And, I take your judgment as jealousy.

Those of you that know me are probably super surprised because I’m totes fat. But, because I’m apparently an 80-year-old man from 1865, I have gout. It’s pretty debilitating. So instead of being a dick by laughing at the idea of me doing yoga, why not show a little moral support.

In fact, make that your New Year’s Resolution. Let’s spread it all around D/FW (especially Uptown). Don’t be a dick for no reason at all.

Which, that’s why my Bikram yoga class was totes packed. Because everyone decides to lie to themselves annually on January 1st and tell themselves they’re gonna work out more this year. Spoiler alert: you won’t.

I’ve been a member of my yoga place for four years now. It’s the longest commitment I’ve ever made in my life. Granted, I took over a year off while I lived in agonizing pain because I couldn’t go to the doctor because I didn’t have health insurance because, for some reason, Republicans think I don’t deserve it because I got a few allergy shots as a kid. But generally, I’ve been a pretty devoted member of the studio.

And, without fail, every January sees an enormous influx of new members. And, I say new members because you can always tell who’s new at a yoga studio. Especially when the class is 90-minutes long in a 105-degree room.

So, what’s the deal with New Year’s resolutions? Why is that the magical dividing line between you being a worthless twit and Superman?

First of all, it’s a completely arbitrary line. I mean, cosmically we can’t really know when a year ends or begins, right? Time is something we just made up. And, if you believe some Internet conspiracy theories, we’re literally living in the 1800s because a Pope decided he wanted his rule to be in the year 1,000. Then take the Rust Cohle theory that time is a flat circle, which echoes some Eastern ways of thinking, and really it doesn’t matter when you decide to go to the gym for two weeks before giving up and just watching Futurama for the billionth time through on your couch.

Second, everyone hates you. Well, everyone that isn’t being completely selfish and thrusting their efforts to better themselves on you. For real. You know all of the people who go to the gym all the time hate you as you struggle to figure out that one weird weight machine. They look on in disgust. You not only look ridiculous, but you’re holding up people who don’t suck nearly as bad as you at life. You’re bringing down all of humanity.

And, it’s not just working out. Granted, that’s usually the No. 1 resolution of Americans, but this ports to other arenas as well. Seriously, if one more person says we can’t go to a certain restaurant because they don’t have an acceptable salad for you to eat, then we’re just not gonna be friends anymore. If you’re going to be so persnickety that you boycott a perfectly acceptable suggestion for dinner, don’t agree to the meal in the first place. Look, on some level I get it. The American definition of salad has grown pretty broad. No kidding, over Christmas my mom made a dish that contained pretzels, cream cheese, whipped cream, and strawberry Jell-O (with actual strawberries diced up in it), and called it pretzel salad. It’s not salad. It’s a dessert. So, I get it. Finding a salad at a restaurant that isn’t like 2,000 calories and 100 grams of fat can be tough. Stay in then. I’ve chosen to accept my corpulence. Don’t make me feel shitty for it.

All this really has me wondering what the economic impact of resolutions is. But, different article.

Third, the only thing worse than everything listed above is the abstract and/or intangible resolution. Some people think they’re actually putting one over on the resolution game by making dumb resolutions like, “I’m going to try to be a nicer person,” or “I’m going to be more gracious.” Screw you. Seriously, from everyone, to you. Screw you. Leave the sanctimonious pretension at home. We get it. You’re a good person. No need to rub it in. “Oh, there’s nothing I could possibly do to improve any tangible aspect of my life. I’m already super good looking, talented, highly compensated, and sexually satisfied. So, now I just want to be nicer.” Ugh. It’s like when the New England Patriots take a backup guard with their first-round pick. We get it, you’re awesome. Don’t be such dicks about it.

Now, I know what some of you are thinking. “What am I supposed to do? People ask me what my resolution is.” Yes, they do. And, I’ve got an entire article planned about the total crap that is small talk. But, in the meantime, I get it. Everyone asks each other and you’ve gotta say something, right? And, for some weird reason, there are actually right and wrong answers. You see, as I’ve kind of covered before in other articles, human interaction is actually a carefully curated script that has been developed over thousands of years of human interaction. So, surprise. You’re not original in any way. No matter what you do you’re following a script that was written before you were even born. Sorry about that. Better to rip the Band-Aid off now, though, so it might free you from following that script.

You know what you tell someone who asks you what your New Year’s resolution is? Tell them to mind their own f*cking business, and if they ask again you’ll stab them in their eyes with the closest phallus shaped object because that’s your motherf*cking resolution. To murder and destroy your pointless and ceaseless need to fill the few silent moments of life with your dumb jibber-jabber.

Seriously, gonna write that small talk article soon. Because it’s the worst. So, we’re gonna work on hacking it.

Until then, hope you all had good holidays. Hope you got everything you wanted for Christmas. I got a Hamilton Beach breakfast sandwich maker. So, who wants to touch me? Actually, it’s perfect for the back corner of my Tupperware cabinet. It’ll look really good just sitting there for the next four years until I unceremoniously give it away. Meanwhile, nothing will stop me from buying Egg McMuffins. The rapture could happen and I’d still go to McDonald’s on a Saturday morning to get some Egg McMuffins. And a McGriddle. Ah, I want so MickeyD’s right now.

Anyway, whatever you do, don’t go to North Texas Bikram Yoga for your resolution. I seriously need to get in shape, and I don’t need you in the way of that.

Until next week. Adios.

Top 5 Gifts I got for Christmas

5. A pedicure (that’s right) 4. Beer jelly 3. Flannel sheets 2. Cash money 1. 23 and Me - I’m adopted, so this is cool. Let’s all do it. maybe we’re cousins.

Kris Noteboom is a Level 3 student at DCH. He is working on his PhD, with a focus comedy. He went on a mini tour this summer performing his comedic one-man show, And Then I Woke Up.

(Image: The Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas/Creative Commons)