I neglected to mention the yogurt class.

I'm svelte, some have compared my physique to that of an otter or seal; the skin glistens over the rippling muscle. It can be tedious to upkeep the Athenian physical appearance, so I have subjected myself to various gym classes which sculpt and mold. The 9FG talked me into yoga last Wednesday. I can now write about it because my muscles have finally ceased seizing at the most inopportune times. First of all, ow. Second of all, you need to speak yoga to go to yoga. The following phrases now mean something to me: "Downward facing dog", "Eagle pose", "Warrior I", "Warrior II" and "Warrior III" and finally, my personal favorite the "Vrksasana pose." For your convenience, I've included the following link (you might need to skip the add) so you might visualize yours truly enduring such stretching techniques. There is a particular face one makes while learning to do yoga: have you ever seen someone who accidentally gave themselves a paper cut? It's kind of like that but with a look of deeper pain and more surprise. I know this because, of course, the room is plastered with floor-to-ceiling mirrors; which, in my opinion, adds insult to injury. If you see someone emerging from the aforementioned class, you should probably clap and maybe whistle because they just narrowly escaped death. It's sort of fun, actually.

A place I will never eat again, particularly the Pentagon Row store. Enough hate mail for one day, okay? Okay.