Hot Nude Yoga: The Return - Week 1 of 4

Okay, so go back and read Hot Nude Yoga: The Return - Prologue to get caught up. This is part 1 of 4.

So as you remember, I spoke with my therapist about my nerves in taking this yoga workshop

TANTRIC YOGA AND SEXUAL KUNG FU

As you could understand, I'm sure. I just didn't want to be penetrated.

I mean, right? I'm not a spit on the hand kinda guy. Not to be crude, but this is Loo's View and it's not always a clean view. Sometimes there's a bit of dirt on the rosebud colored sunglasses.

I think my main concern is that I'd embarrass myself. I was the kid who would be the butt of the joke. So if I was with a group of classmates and they said, let's go skinny dipping, I'm the kid who would be game and would turn a bright shade of red when I realized that I was the first one with the clothes off and in the water. And everyone was just interested to see who the first fool to drop trou. Well, that kid is me. Always has been. I'm a little too game for anything.

So I was having flashbacks to being fourteen and being the awkward, gawky skeletal kid. So I didn't want to be the first kid to get excited while everyone was perfectly in control (i.e. flaccid). Well, rest assured, kids. I wasn't.

CHECK POINT 1: THIS WOULD THE POINT IN THE BLOG THAT ANYONE WHO IS A FACEBOOK FRIEND/RELATIVE OF MY BOYFRIEND SHOULD STOP AND THINK VERY CAREFULLY. IF YOUR OPINION OF ME IS GOING TO CHANGE HEARING ABOUT MY NUDE OBSERVATIONS IN YOGA CLASS, THEN TURN BACK NOW.

For the rest of you (hee, hee...btw, I think my late grandmother Mona would be listening, ears akimbo. She loved this sort of stuff. Just hearing her voice in my head saying "Oh, get out! Ay, loco!" makes me want to cry)...

The class is crowded, btw. With people who basically are hoping that this turns into a circle jerk. Not to be crass...well, actually I enjoy being crass. But that's seriously what was going on. We were about 25 crammed in that place. A lot of Lookie Loos (no pun intended). AND I WAS ONE OF THEM. The thing that I actually love about my Not Nude Yoga practice is that I get really into the feeling of the yoga practice and being in my own body. As much as there might be eye candy around me, it makes me incredibly internal.

So Loren is the guy leading the class. And Dana, my favorite yogi in his Brooklynese, is there helping out to adjust us and lead us through the yoga stuff. I talk about Dana in my Season One musings about HNY. He's a breath of fresh air. So these two cute guys are leading the class and we start out with what's called Breath of Fire which is like hyperventilating. And Belly Breathing, where we're supposed to extend out stomachs out while we're inhaling. At that point, all vanity has to go out the window. Because that shit looks cute on someone with a six pack, but someone like me with a smooth tummy...well, I look like an ad from Save the Children. Sorry. But that's the visual.

At this point, it just feels like a lot of nude lamaze. Then Loren tells us to grab our testicles.

CHECK POINT 2: NO, REALLY IN-LAWS. PLEASE STOP READING NOW.

What you're supposed to do is gently pull on your testicles in accordance to your age. So if you're 25, then it's 25 times. So I start tugging...hey, nice. And it's good for the health and energy flow and it feels good. Okay. I'm getting into it. Then he has us grab our "friend" and flop it up and down, so that it's slapping around. Okay, now I feel like I'm five and I'm in my Underroos. This is a bit silly. Then he excitedly says a phrase that I will never forget:

"This is where the man juice comes from." Snot flies out of my nose. I swear, it's snot.

Is it inappropriate to laugh so hard your side hurts in yoga class? Isn't there a connection between enlightenment and humor? I'm considering myself incredibly enlightened at this point. And actually, I'm feeling relaxed and I'm enjoying myself. It's kind of silly, but it's enjoyable. I'm smiling.

Then he says that sometimes about how this is when people can start getting aroused. Well, that just did it. It just went from silly to something else. And yes, at this point, I did look around. And yes, it's what you expect. So I won't go into further detail. I'm sure your dirty minds can do a much better job than I can at painting a pretty darn good picture.

And that was about five minutes. Other exercises happened. Very sincere exercises.

So once things settled down, we continued with our practice. Stretching and downward dogging and letting our minds empty out. It was incredibly meditative. I guess this is the part where I should say that I get a lot from this practice. And this a humorous blog, which means no disrespect to this practice. But I actually do believe that enlightenment and humor are connected. We can't take ourselves so seriously. We can't be so quick to judge. And there's no quicker way to get rid of judgment than to strip down, expose your short or not so short comings and just breathe. Get over it, right?

We then went through a series of exercises, which can be better explained on Loren's website, www.rawtantra.com. And we finished up with partner work. The partner yoga was a lot of thai massage, which is a lot of pressure and release (not that kind of release). I learned a lot. I love massage. Giving and getting. For me, it's about the healing quality of touch. It just feels good. It's simple. Not a lot of thought or analyzing to that. It just feels good. I think that was the lesson of this workshop. Yeah, it's fun and silly and profound and educational and feels good. It made me focus on being present.

But the massage part was great because I learned that I don't have to cramp up my hands giving my boyfriend a massage. I can use my body to apply pressure that feels good, but doesn't tire me out. And it is sensual to lay your body on someone. It's connection.

So I left the workshop not feeling nervous. And not being penetrated unexpectantly and unwillingly. But with a sense of energy and awareness that carried me into that week and lead to an incredible amount of productivity in that following week. It was pretty amazing.

And I left with a smile on my face. Enlightened.

Late Night with the Dogs

I'm feeling like I'm coming down with the cold that everyone has. So I am here, sleeping downstairs in our "man cave": the downstairs home office with the 26" screen that doubles as a computer monitor, watching the episode of "The Wendy Williams Show" that her parents were on. It's like a warm foot rub to me. Comfort.

I'm drinking a tea made with chinese herbs, much like the tea my Dad used to make us when we had a cold. But when we were kids, he would boil up the herbs and stink up the house. I think the tea tasted so disgusting to us because smelled it. This is just from an eye dropper. You drop three droppers full in hot water. It's not so bad. And it does the same thing. The funny thing is that I was raised in a homeopathic family just because that's what people did. Home remedies is what they used to call it. I think the reason I don't get as sick as Wes is because I have lots of garlic and ginger in my diet and I love rest. My body tells me what it needs and I am too happy to pay attention.

Now if I could get that body to love exercise so that it could look like a million bucks, that'd be great. Right now it's at about 750K. Not horrible, but not stellar. I give good face and that counts for about 500K.

Where was I going with this? Oh, nowhere probably. Just that it's nice that the dogs are sleeping next to me while Wes is upstairs luxuriating in his stank germs watching Spartacus. He's getting over his cold and I'm glad he gave up the man cave tonight. I'm trying to stay away from his germs and just let me body rest so the germs in me don't start getting any ideas.

It's also comforting to work on this blog in the dark. It's nice and easy during a week that was anything but. Happy to be home. Wish I could have my arms around the man I love. But I don't want his cold!

We'll save the cuddling for this weekend in Palm Springs.

Make Me a Bravolebrity

Is that how you spell it? Bravolebrity? As in Bravo Celebrity? These mash up phrases totally confuse me. Just when I thought I had a grasp of the English language that I mastered back in the 4th grade. Now this. Oy!

I think my life has really been influenced by my avid watching of reality TV shows on Bravo. It's kind of like doing impersonations, but this is more like an attitude impersonation. Here are some examples:

I was watching part of a Real Housewives of New York City marathon from Season One this morning while I was getting ready for work. Then I saw Bethenny Frankel on Wendy Williams this morning. And I instantly got in that sort of quasi-entrepreneurial/I'm gonna kick your ass/Eyes on the Prize mode that both Jill Zarin and Bethenny get into. I came in my office and got some shit organized and set some priorities for the day. All good things. But it was done with a bit of a flourish and some sass. I was doing a subtle drag version of Bethenny/Jill Zarin that no one but me was aware of. To the outside world, I was probably just being bitchy.

I put on a tight sweater today, I had the big sunglasses on...I had a "conference call" this morning with my friend Susan while on the way into the office this morning. I probably thought there were cameras on me in the car. I started giving her advice on her life in little snippets that would be great in a teaser ad for next week's episode of

LOOnacy: The Entertaining Life of an Aspiring Somebody

Oooh. That IS good.

But I said things like:

"You don't talk about him (her boyfriend who's moving cross country) all the time because you're finally in a place where you're secure and you don't have to pretend like it's all okay. Like BLAH BLAH BLAH my BOYFRIEND, my boyfriend, my boyfriend."

and

"If his boxes had come weeks before he got there, you'd be freaking out because that's what people do."

These grand statements that have no credibility or value. But that sound really good an confident in a 30-second spot. I was chock full of them this morning.

It's all due to Bravo. It's changed the way I relate to the world.

Brava!, Bravo.

Procrastination Nation

I'm trying to write
and I'm a little scared
and I'm staring at a blank page
and I really want to get this
shit done. I want it to be brilliant and
I'm just not in that head space.

So instead I listen to Elvis Mitchell interviewing
Colin Firth.

And type in my blog.

Hello.

Embrace me. I need the good energy to move forward.

Curves

In the category of things I have no business commenting on...

CURVES

I just was walking down the street near my office and saw a plain looking woman, a bit heavyset, walking around the building where Curves is and looking around. Then I saw her slip in quickly. Like a cat burglar.

Before the doors shut behind her, I saw what the inside of a Curves looks like. Usually, I walk by and see the blacked out windows and think that maybe it's an incubator for vampires. Or some weird sex club. It just seemed like a front to me. But in the three second quick peek I got, I saw what it was really a cover for.

I think Curves is an adult day care. I saw a bulletin board with C-U-R-V-E-S cut out in block letters. The bulletin board was lined in construction paper. And there was a hula hoop. I might have even seen a gold star or two. I'm sure there were machines in there and working out was happening. I'm certain of it. But...it really did look strange from the outside. And the door quickly shut behind me, because no one wants me to know what's really going on inside.

It really does illustrate the difference between the gyms that are frequented by gay dudes and the gyms that are frequented by straight ladies. In my gym, everything's open. There are lots of windows and lots of dudes showing off their junk, freeballing in loose gym shorts. The shower curtains are open. And so are their mouths, with loud grunts - male mating calls to let you know that they are working hard and have no problem vocalizing the combination of pleasure and pain.

File that under: Information That Will Be Useful Later.

Women keep it all bottled up inside, secretly working out in coverted office space. Gays need the asthetics - the skylights, the high ceilings, the Aveda products and low lit steam rooms. Interesting.

File that Under: Reasons I'm Glad I'm a Gay Dude.

Meatloaf

I got a craving for some meatloaf and I wanted to make something. We just had a valentine's day dinner party the other night and I had some leftover mozzarella slices. So I decided to do a layer of mozzarella. I think you can always put just about anything in a meatloaf. But here's what I did today. And it was delicious!

2 lbs of ground beef
chopped onion
breadcrumbs
basil
garlic powder
oregano
salt
pepper
mozzarella slices
2 eggs
creamy french dressing

I basically take a bowl and mix everything other than the mozzarella and dressing. Then I take 1/2 of the mix and put it into a pyrex or a meatloaf pan. Then a layer of mozzarella. Then more meat on top. Then pour french dressing on it or ketchup.

Variations:
pickles
raisins
red bell pepper
Parmesan cheese

then bake it in the oven. Yummy. 375 for 45 minutes to an hour.

Done and done. Enjoy. It's four minutes to midnight. Tired.

Loo Recommends: Ben and Dave's Six Pack

I love podcasts.

I just like to always feel like I'm always at a party where I'm sitting in the corner or retreating to the office or passed out upstairs in my bedroom while things happen around me.

It's strange.

One recent discovery and quick fave is Ben and Dave's Six Pack. www.bendave.com These are two out gay guys who are clearly and openly and outly and so totally fucking gay but not with any of the Classic Gay attributes like lisps, sequined jackets, and quippy bon mots. Although, these guys are funny. I listen to them while I'm cooking. I feel like my mother and her stories (aka her novellas).

Anyway, listen to them. Gay or straight. They are great. And I'm rhyming again.

Memoirs of a Hollywood Geisha

DISCLAIMER: The following post is partially fictionalized and partially played up for humor. In the words of my boyfriend when he starts getting loud at parties...

"I'M HAMMING IT UP, DEAR!"

**** So part of my being Mrs. Wes is that I have to get dressed up and take the rollers out of the hair every once in a while. Yes, as legend goes, I was rescued from a gutter in Downey, cleaned up and ushered into my life as a Hollywood boyfriend. Truth be told, I'm New York-educated and am pursuing my writing career. But every now and again, I don the dark glasses, put on the pill box hat, drag an Oleg Cassini out of the closet and pull it together. A Kennedy reference is actually apropos in this instance because this morning we went downtown to go bowling for one of our favorite charities, Best Buddies - which was started by Anthony Shriver.

As some of my old friends and my boyfriend can attest, sometimes I can be a fan of a theme. Whether it's my Junior year in college being the year of Navys and Greys or my birthday party in grad school where I announced the theme was 1981 - Calvin Klein minimalist chic, I like to have great stories in my head that make sense to no one but me.

This morning it was easy Hollywood Sunday morning. An outfit that seemed appropriate to the Farmer's Market if one was trying to be on the DL, but wanted to look good for the paparazzi. Translation: grey jeans, terry cloth track jacket by Juicy Couture Mens, blue "UP" t-shirt featuring Ed Asner's character on the front (supporting the family biz), and a pair of white and tan Pumas. I also had my burnt orange sunglasses on. Very low-key. I felt like I could be in one of those Details diagrams that would read:

"Gay Hollywood Domestic Partner or Mobster Tourist"

[Side note: Last night's theme was 80s power bitch - hair was kind of feathered into a bit of a nod to Hillary Clinton, grey v-neck, hot pink tee underneath, grey jeans and silk scarf poking out of a peacoat. We were going to meet a young boy that Wes had met out months ago. I got a little Alexis Carrington/Abby Ewing on it.]

So we get there and see our friend Mark who was running the event. We say hello to some of Wes' clients. I got introduced to Cindy Crawford, who was gorgeous in person and had a nice vibe. Everyone who knew her kept saying how incredibly nice she is. I love to hear things like that. We saw Harry Hamlin who is totally sexy and the lovely Lisa Rinna who I only admired from afar. It was nice to see these folks with their kids. Wes and I were starving so we crammed some food down our throats and then went to mingle.

I was talking to the woman who had worked on PR for the event when a Buddy came up to me. The Buddies are who the charity is for. They are intellectually-disabled individuals who are placed in jobs so they can be active. [Side note: I don't know if we have a term that's fully satisfying. Mentally-handicapped or disabled doesn't seem any better. I think Buddy is probably the best option.] So a Buddy came up to me and spoke in a very soft voice, so I had to lean in. An adult (maybe his Mom) came up to me and said that he maybe he thought I was someone that I'm not. Hmmm. Then she asked me if I was on HEROES.

I politely replied "No." But in my head I was thinking: "Does he think I'm Masi Oka? Do we all really look alike?"

Then she replied that he thought I was Adrian Pasdar. Well, hello Buddy! Can I get you a drink? A soda or a fruit juice, of course!

Then another Buddy came up to me later and asked if I was a celebrity: "Only in my own mind, Sweet Pea. Only in the Windmills of my Mind."

So the Buddies got my Hollywood Casual outfit. Well, if I was going to impress anyone, I'm glad it was them. It was a fun event, as usual. Chatted with Kiele Sanchez, who's an actress I've admired for a long time, although I was playing it cool and not admitting that to her. But if our friend Jen reads this and busts me, I guess I'll just be a big nerd. Oh, well. I could do a lot worse being rescued from a gutter in Downey.

I did my job: helped the boyfriend pick out silent auction items to bid on, functioned as pretty arm candy, made witty remarks and posed for pictures. Now I'm back home, rollers back in, just pulled out a mozzerella stuffed meatloaf out of the oven and the dogs are laying at my feet passing gas. Oh the sweet, foul scent of reality!

Out There

I don't really know what I'm going to write until it comes together. I had an interesting end of the week. My friend Elyzabeth has this saying when she starts getting a little envious of someone and she says that she's not "keeping her eyes on her own paper." Remember in school when someone would get tempted to cheat, the teacher would say, "Keep your eyes on your own paper." Well a lot of us do that in life. We look around to see how successful someone else is or how much their failing in order to gauge how we feel about ourselves. We spend so much time looking at other people's papers that we don't focus on our own.

And I was guilty of that last week. I try to be the goody goody and not feel those things, but my therapist says it's normal to have those feelings. And my friend Steve said the same thing. I owe him a drink for that sage advice. My friend not my therapist. Although I'm sure I owe my therapist a couple of rounds as well.

I had my jealous moment. My jealous cry. My jealous trip to the Pavillions where I bought all sorts of feel good foods. I wouldn't even say junk food. The act of cooking makes me feel good. Chopping and sauteing and mixing and being creative in the kitchen. Another analogy that comes to mind from therapy is that when I'm cooking I don't spend all of my time worried about other people's opinions. I know it's good. They taste it and give their approval, but I'm not hanging on every word. It's a nice end result, but not the goal.

Why can't I do that with my writing? Everyone's opinion matters. Not that notes are not helpful, but I place my value in other people's hands constantly. Ugh. Stop it already, Loo. Just stop it.

I've soaked in the tub. I've had the "get productive" talk with myself. I've had the "keep your eyes on your own paper" talk as well. And now it's Sunday. I've been working on re-outlining and just taking some good character notes. Now I'm at the self-motivation, think positive end of the sentence. But in order to get there, I had to have the "I want all of these great career successes to happen to me" moment. Why deny myself that?

Without it I wouldn't have had that great feeling of strolling through the aisles at the West Hollywood Pavillions. Not to cruise, just to luxuriate in the florescent lighting and the many different sections of the store. On a Friday night, my favorite time to go grocery shopping. I do a lot of things that make me feel like an older person. I also love an early bird special at a diner. Anyway...

I had to start looking within and taking care of myself. That moment of jealousy was a brilliant reminder that my paper is the only thing that will make me happy. Looking outward only makes me frustrated. I'll get there. Just one step, one page, one thought at a time. But I'll get there. I've written countless plays, tv specs, pilots, etc. utilizing that exact philosophy.

I've spent some time out there looking around and now it's time to come back inside and settle in. Happy Sunday everybody.

Four Women

Listened to this in the car over the weekend and also love watching "Without You I'm Nothing" Sandra Bernhard's amazing movie and her version. Just thought I'd reprint the lyrics here.

My skin is black
My arms are long
My hair is wooly
My back is strong.
Strong enough to take the pain
Inflicted again and again
What do they call me?
They call me
Aunt Sarah
Aunt Sarah...

My skin is yellow
My hair is long
Between two worlds
I do belong
My father was rich and white
He forced my mother late one night
What do they call me?
They call me
Saffronia
Saffronia

My skin is tan
My hair is alright, it's fine
My hips invite you, daddy
My mouth like wine
Who's little girl am I?
Anyone with money to buy.
What do they call me?
My name is Sweet Thing.
Sweet thing.

My skin is brown
My manner is tough
I'll kill the first mother I see
My life has been rough
I'm awfully bitter these days
My parents were slaves
What do they call me?
My name is
PEACHES!

Cooking Makes Me Feel Better About Myself

I had a tough day, not unlike Amy Adams in "Julia and Julia."
But I didn't make a roast chicken.
I just listened to podcasts about food.
And made a salad and israeli couscous with parsley, lemon zest, pine nuts, golden raisins, and black pepper.

My perfect day would be:

having a bowl of pozole or menudo for breakfast
reading the NY Times either online or in my hands
in bed
then going to the gym and working out chest and back and freeballing
going grocery shopping for an hour - or no time restrictions
then coming home and making a pasta while listening to a great iPod mix
"Surrender" from the Diana Ross album
"Come on over baby" by Christina Aguiliera
"Four Women" by Nina Simone
"Lilac Wine" by Jeff Buckley
"Heartbreaker" by Dionne Warwick
maybe listening to "Spilled Milk" or "Savor Portland" or "Good Food with Evan Kleinman"
nap
private man time
catching up on TV
sex with my boyfriend
going to dinner or making dinner at home with lots of wine
if I make dinner then I'll look through my cookbooks and online about two hours before
nude yoga
laughter
sleep

maybe that will be tomorrow's agenda
i need it

Reconnected

Thanks to the wonders of technology, namely Facebook, I am now friends (again)with a bunch of my grade school classmates. We've gotten together now three times in the past year or so. Last January, last March for St. Patty's Day and now this past January.

I remember being nervous the first time all saw each other again. Part of it is that so much time has passed and you feel like a different person. Frankly, I wasn't all that popular in grade school. I was strange. I liked comic books and fashion magazines. I liked the band Lone Justice because I'd seen them on a New Year's Eve show on MTV. I thought that made me cool and alternative. I was skinny with buck teeth, a lisp and a matching green tank top and short outfit by Generra that I wore on free dress days. I felt like a planet that hadn't been discovered yet. No name and barely there.

I think what I'm discovering in some ways now is that a bunch of us felt that way. And we've taken our adulthood by the balls and transformed those feelings of isolation into something else. It's made some of us more reflective. It's made a bunch of us let go. My best friend Alanna (who I didn't go to grade school with) and I are always found of saying, "We're just two kids from Downey." I think part of my identity will always be tied to being right off the 5 and the 605 freeways.

What I found when we saw each other again for the first time in that small group of about ten of us, was that time had made us laugh at everything. And yes there were some revelations - secret crushes and the like - but the real revelation was how quickly we all became 14 again - in the best possible way. We fell into our rhythms again.

I'm not sure why I'm thinking about that today. Maybe it's because I look at my Facebook and I see Niki's new recipe or Judy's funny TGIF comment or the fact that we're all planning to see each other again when Michelle comes to town. It's just nice to know that everyone's okay, I guess. Yeah, it's really nice to know that everyone's okay.

Loo Loo's Favorite Things - Feb 2010

I love a good podcast, which I think I've mentioned. I just finished listening to

Spilled Milk, which is www.spilledmilkpodcast.com and fantastic. It's these two people Matthew Amster-Burton and Molly Wizenberg who live in Seattle. First of all, I love the Pacific Northwest and culture up there. I used to live in Portland and now that it's become such a foodie town, I'm kind of in love even more. The idea is that they choose a food item and then make it, talk about it and eat it. And they laugh and tell funny stories. It's the best. It's new, but so far they've done Fried Eggs, Squash, Milkshakes and Valentine's Day. I love listening to anything that sounds like I'm sitting in the kitchen or in a living room listening to conversations. What can I say? I like company.

Deluxe Dogs - We used to get these from Weinerschnietzel when I was a kid. They are hot dogs made with chopped onion, tomatoes, mustard and a pickle spear. I added a couple hot sweet peppers from Fresh and Easy. There are certain foods I eat when I'm feeling low or tired and in today's case, sick. I came home feeling achy and had some hot dogs in the fridge. So I cooked them up and made my deluxe dogs. I also make tostadas, which I will devote a whole post to at some point soon because I love tostadas. I want to weep I love them so much.

Project Runway - it's not as good as Season Four, but I'm loving this season. I'm watching it now. Just pressed pause. But Tim Gunn could say dirty things to me and I wouldn't complain. He could tag me from behind and tell me to make it work anytime. I'm kind of serious.

My Juicy Couture Zip Up Jacket - Wes gave it to me for Christmas. And I love it. I wear it everywhere. When I put my cap on, I look like someone's friend's cousin Vito.

Quiet Time - I'm sitting here typing and loving having the time to just relax and write down some thoughts before I have to do anything major with the rest of my night.

Baths - I might have to take one soon and close my eyes. I love how loose my testicles are in the bath. seriously. I know it's inappropriate, but it makes me happy.

Foot rubs - my kingdom for a foot rub. I need one now. I think I might have to do it myself. Sit indian style then bend down and work my elbow into the arch of my foot. Ahhhh...

That's it for now. Now back to Project Runway.

Hot Nude Yoga: The Return - Prologue

So as some of you may remember from last "season", I had started taking Hot Nude Yoga classes. I detailed my experiences, my fears, my trepidation in a few steamy blog posts. But I persevered. I managed. I stretched. And I showed my weenie off in front of other guys.

Not only had I taken off time from writing this blog, but I also took some time off from my Nude Yoga practice. That is until I saw these words on their website:

TANTRIC YOGA AND SEXUAL KUNG FU WORKSHOP

What does THAT mean? Prolonged stretching and dirty martial arts? Naked Karate? Bonerville? My curiosity got the best of me and I did more research. I found out that this practice wasn't just made up. I found that it involved a lot of breathing...heavy, probably. And I learned that it helps in prostate health. But just how was the prostate being stimulated? That was the curious part.

Then I felt kind of weird. Because, yes, I was curious. But I clearly didn't want to make my boyfriend uncomfortable. And this class sounded like it was more sexual in nature. Also, I discovered that "kung fu" translates into "skillful practice." So sexual kung fu was the skillful practice of sex?

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? Is someone going to penetrate me and I'll be in such a higher state of being I won't notice? Oh God! All the questions and all the worry. I thought my nose would start bleeding any second. That's what would happen when I'd have anxiety when I was a kid.

I then became convinced it was a silly thing to do, so I forgot about it. But I kept thinking about this idea of being more mindful about sex and how great that would be for the two of us, not that I need sex lessons, but I love education. So I took a deep breath and sent Wes a very thoughtout email:

"It's Sundays 7:30-9:30. here's the link. Is this ridiculous? If you don't want me to do it, I won't"

SEND.

Then he sent back a response pretty quickly. I got nervous. He wrote:

"Consider it your early Valentine's Day gift. You're all signed up, my little Dark Sting." Now that's support.

Then I cried.

No, not really. But I thought it was so sweet. He got me the workshop. But then I had to go. I mean, it sounded interesting. And I liked that it had a spiritual, energy bent to it. But I had to then actually go and take the workshop. It was over four Sundays.

So on Saturday morning I went to therapy. And started talking to my therapist about it:

"So I signed up for this sexual kung fu yoga workshop thing. I'm excited about going. But scared about going. I mean...is someone going to slip it in?"

Okay, not verbatim. But close. I might have actually said "slip it in" to my therapist. He assured me that it was a great thing. Wes was okay with it, so much that he bought me the damn workshop. And that I should relax. But just be careful about backing into anything.

Kidding. He didn't say that. My therapist is insightful, but not quick-witted.

It could be good for me and for us, he said. I could open up. I could share these techniques and bring them home.

But I just didn't want to do anything that felt inappropriate. And my therapist said, "Then tell them to stop if it doesn't feel good."

Clearly I have issues with boundaries and not asking for what I need. That was another therapy session. So I guess this yoga thing was having a good effect on me already. It was setting the stage for other types of therapy. This was a physical kind and taking about taking action. And the other kind was about talking.

Wow. I have the power to say "yes" and "no?" Deep. Yeah, I guess I do. And what better place to start than Naked Yoga. At least I'd start out comfortable.

My High School Crush Does Not Want to be my Facebook Friend

His loss.

You know, I thought that maybe enough time would have passed and that he would have seen that I was really an innocent kid dealing with confusing feelings that really had no outlet when I was fifteen. So maybe I called him nightly. Maybe I had his parents freaked out because this lispy kid kept calling the house. I might be worried that some strange boy was calling my son. A boy they never met. A boy who wasn't on the football team like their boy.

I prefer to believe that they were racist.

We even managed to weather the storm of the four hour phone call I made, pleading with him to still be my friend. Lying through my teeth and trying to convince him that I didn't have feelings for him. That I wanted to be a friend to him. Just a friend. Just an emotionally needy, physically affectionate friend.

We really didn't have a lot in common. I don't know why I pursued the relationship--I'm sorry, friendship, so passionately. I was a huge Madonna fan (still am). He was into Rush, Leppelin, The Who, Boston. Probably. The boys in my high school were into Classic Rock. He probably was too. It didn't matter. It's not like we had to have everything in common. Variety is the spice of life, after all. It's what takes us outside of ourselves and allows us to see the world as a bigger place. Maybe my Unnamed High School Crush didn't want his world to be big.

He works with Nascar, I think. Lots of cars in his profile pictures. He protected me from being his friend, but not from viewing some of his pictures. Including his girlfriend or wife or woman he stood very close to one day while out at a winery and asked his "friend" to snap a quick picture of them together so he could send the passive aggressive message to the strange boy who would call his house at odd hours that he likes girls.

Well, that strange boy is now a strange man and I'm not falling for it, buddy. Yeah, I said "buddy." A nice, safe, masculine term of acknowledgment. Like "man", "bro," or "dude." Safe and non-threatening. Because even though you may not believe me, Anonymous Crush, I am safe and non-threatening. And really, really nice. Just ask my boyfriend. Not my friend or roommate, my BOY FRIEND. Manpanion. Domestic Partner, if that makes you feel better.

You know, Crush Who's Name I'm Not Mentioning Out of Respect, I should really thank you. Because you were my first. You kind of set the stage for the relationship I'm in now. I'm in love with a Potato Eater. A Corned Beef-loving, cabbage-smelling, delicious morsel of an Irishman. That's my Wes. I have no problem mentioning his name. Because I'm proud. Out, LOUD, and proud. Wes also loves musicals, which is why we're a better match than you and I were. Well, that and the fact that we were only fifteen and not ready for a real relationship.

I like Irish guys, thanks to you. And if you were my Facebook friend, I could say a proper, modern thank you. Not really "say", per se. But write...well type. And thanking you would involve sending you a Facebook message and not really hearing what your voice sounds like now as an adult. Is it deeper? You still have a pinhead, judging from your pictures. But is your voice at least more mature than you are?

Facebook's a bit impersonal, actually. But thanks to you, I can't even do something impersonal to you.

I'm so mad I could reveal your actual name.

But I won't. Because I'm the bigger person.

Where I want to Work

Okay, so in the spirit of a new decade, and in the fact that I need to not just have a day job anymore, I'm going to put a list out there into the universe. It's not a wish list. It's a "This is Where I Want to be Spending my Time and Making TV Money as a Staffed Writer" List:

into the universe...planting seeds...manifesting...visualizing...intending...

Let's go by network, shall we?

ABC
Desperate Housewives
Brothers and Sisters
Private Practice
Modern Family
Cougar Town
The Middle

NBC
The Office
Parks and Recreation
30 Rock
Parenthood

CBS
The Good Wife
How I Met Your Mother
The New Adventures of Old Christine

FOX
GLEE

CW
Gossip Girl
Life Unexpected

HBO
Big Love
True Blood

Showtime
US of Tara
Nurse Jackie
Weeds

Putting it out there and doing the work. Proclaiming to the universe that this is what I want. It's a serious thing, this writing career. I'm focused in a way that I haven't been focused in the past. Maybe it's about finding the way I want to write and what I want to write. And maybe it's finally figuring out that it's up to me. I can't expect someone else to guide my choices.

I know better than anyone else what I am capable of. And right now I'm capable of writing a new hour long pilot and a new multi camera half hour. I'm capable of writing two new plays in the past four months and a new proposal for a commission.

Closing my eyes and taking a moment of silence to make the intention.

Now back to the business of being fun and entertaining on the interweb.

Thank you.

AppapaLOOza

My sweet boyfriend got me the iPod touch for my birthday last week. It's pretty amazing. I have 32 apps so far. Most of them are food related. No surprise since I pretty much obsess about food all of the time. I COULD write a food blog, but this is much more fun. And I do plan to share some more recipes soon.

It's amazing to have that much information at your fingertips wherever you go. AMAZING. This is just a sampling of what's on there:

FACEBOOK - because it's not just enough to have it on my Blackberry or on my laptop.
URBANSPOON - because I need to know where food is and where I can get it wherever I am.
BUMP - which I haven't used yet, but can't wait to bump up against someone's iPhone.
SHAZAM - I also love music.
KINDLE - for books because I like to read.
EPICURIOUS - because that's my middle name.
YELP - because opinions are like...well, you know. And I happen to be a fan. Of YELP. And...
GAY CITIES - because it's the right thing to do.
FOOD NETWORK - porn
GYM FREE - because I might need a workout
NY TIMES - duh.
LA TIMES - duh.
TV.COM - quick reference and I'm obsessed with TV
MIXOLOGY - knowledge is power.
NPR - because I'm wicked smart. Or at least want people to think I am.
PAC MAN - hells, yeah.

And more. But that's a little sampling of the things I love and am interested in.

Then I have my Podcasts because I love:
THE TREATMENT w/ Elvis Mitchell
AMERICAN THEATRE WING'S podcasts
and foodie podcasts which I haven't yet listened to yet, but saw something interesting last night called
SPILLED MILK

BALLET FOR MEN - it's about what it means to be a male dancer. Love it. Haven't listened to it yet. But love it.

SAVOR PORTLAND - more food from Portland, OR
THE STORY SO FAR - the 24 episode series on Sondheim
TIMES TALKS - from the New York Times.

It's all so much information. SO I listen in the car, at the airport, on the flight, while I'm cooking in the kitchen...

I LOVE LOVE LOVE.

And that's what I'm obsessed with this week.

The "Race" is On!

So I'm just going to give my opinions thus far on who I think is going to take this thing. And I'm only going by memory because if the other ladies aren't sticking, then they aren't staying, and not worth mentioning.

"Can I get an Amen up in here?"

Funny. I was going to start writing about Ongina. I saw her at Micky's several months ago. I love her pocket, genderfuck, yellow madness. It's fantastic.

While I'm still stuck on Season One, can I just say that those Absolute ads that they show when you watch it online are freaky deaky? Nina's glass eyes, Chanel's Liz Taylor weight gain, Bebe's Ororo Munroe blue eyes (those X Men fans will know what I'm talking about)...it's kinda weird.

Okay, onto Season Two. Here's my rundown on the queens...

Tyra Sanchez - judging from Ep 2, she's a bitch. Judging from Ep. 3, she's a funny bitch. And maybe the most gorgeous of them all. And she might pull a knife on you, which is hot.

Jessica Wild - from Ep. 3, she was a little Phyllis Diller, a little Charo, and a lot to love.

Jujubee - I'm loving how real she is and how she's a cool boy and a sexy girl. Although I want to see her turn it out a bit more. But I love a slant-eyed sister.

Morgan McMichaels - he's a cute boy and as a drag queen, a real nod to female impersonators of the past. She doesn't look like a woman, she looks like a drag queen. Way over the top in a great way. And a bit scary.

Mystique Summers Madison - she's now gone, but I have to say that she's trashy and "raggedy" (according to Ru) in a good way. And I love her name.

Nicole Paige Brooks - Nicole. Paige. Brooooks. Name more interesting than the woman. A little janky. but I'm sure she's as sweet as anything.

Pandora Boxx - love her. She's Kathy Griffin meets Kathy Najimy meets Cloris Leachman meets whatever other judges are on the show this season. Here's to the lady who laughs!

Raven - I'm loving her. She's fierce and bitchy and real and cool. Sometimes can look a bit draggy and manlike. But last night she looked like a real lady, soft and demure. Gimme more, Raven! Although she needs to take some pills to up her energy level. As Ru would say, "You betta work!"

Sahara Davenport - trained dancer, but not my favorite drag queen. She's a beauty, though!

Shangela - tore up from the floor up.

Sonique - who knew such an ugly dude could be such a pretty lady. And I don't mean that mean...well, maybe I do. An example of a person who just transforms. Maybe that's it! Most transformed!

Tatianna - like Tyra Banks says, "Don't rest on pretty." And she IS a lady, not a tranny.

That's how I feel. I'm so addicted. I love my RuPaul's Drag Race. It's delish. And now that they have "Untucked", which actually surpasses the show it rips off, "Models of the Runway." Amazeballs!

Battle of the Charity Singles

I'm with Jay Z on this one.
You just don't mess with "We Are the World."
And "Stranded (Haiti Mon Amour)" is actually a better SONG. And it's fresh and current.

The video clips and the recreating of the chorus of pop music superstars in the new video was cheeseball.

And really? Janet and Michael side by side? Ugh.

Lazy, lazy, lazy.

And I can't get "Haiti Mon Amour" out of my mind, since I heard it. I LOVE that song. It's a bit melancholy and melodious all at once. Go Jay Z, Bono and Rihanna.

We have a new anthem for 2010. To go along with the one from 2009, "Empire State of Mind."

Thanks, Sean Carter.

V-Day iMix titles

for some reason it cut off the titles. If it wasn't clear, here they are:

Grey in L.A.
Darker Days
Sober
Let it Be
You've Really Got a Hold on Me
Crying
Hallelujah
Stranded (Haiti Mon Amour)
I've Got Your Number
I Dream of Spring
Empire State of Mind

Love it.

V-Day iMix

- Grey in L.A. by Loudon Wainwright III - because that's my favorite time (other than sunny days when the shirts come off) - driving down SM Blvd between Doheny and Wilshire on a gloomy day. Nothing like it. Liked it at 17. Like it now.

- Darker Days by AM - he's a personal friend and so talented. Love this song. Great music and lyrics.

- Sober by P!nk - a serious pop song.

- Let It Be (featuring the Roots) by Jennifer Hudson - she took it to church, brought it back and offered it up to the Lord. So great.

- You’ve Really Got a Hold on Me by Laura Nyro with LaBelle - another cover. La Nyro and LaBelle. Mmmm...I know they like it and I do to.

- Crying (with Roy Orbison) by k.d. lang - I apparently love alternate versions of already recorded. This made me cry in the lobby of the Sofia Hotel in San Diego. On V Day. what people must have thought. Tears of joy. I swear.

- Hallelujah (featuring Charlie Sexton) by Justin Timberlake and Matt Morris: Go J.T. Do it. Make me love you more.

- Stranded (Haiti Mon Amour) by Jay-Z, Bono, and Rihanna: FUCK THE WE ARE THE WORLD REMAKE.

- I’ve Got Your Number by Jill Sobule: Because I do and he does mine. Cy Coleman.

- I Dream of Spring (from KCRW concert) by k.d. lang: We were at this concert in Malibu. Romantic to the nth degree.

- Empire state of Mind (featuring Alicia Keys) by Jay-Z: Because we are always, even on this coast. And it IS a state of mind, if not always a state of being.

Express your love. If you want it right now, make him show you how.

Season Two: Sneak Peek!

Okay, so instead of saying I took four months off writing this blog, I'm just going to say that it was a truncated Season One. And now I'm back with Season Two - better than ever. Like RuPaul's Drag Race, but less make up. More attitude, but less make up.

I've been busy writing plays and such, kids. So that's why I've been remiss in getting to my blog. But instead of renaming the old broad, I decided to come back to her and see whatelse is up her sleeve. Do I know what I'm talking about? Not a clue.

Here's what's in store for Loo's View - Season Two:

- More rhyming. A lot more.
- My very new recent obsession with my iPod Touch and all things apps. I am an app addict. And mainly my apps have to do with food: Epicurious, Food Network Nighttime, Urbanspoon...okay more more more on that soon.
- My campaign to get staffed on a show this season.
- Stranded (Haiti Mon Amour) vs. We Are the World II: Battle of the Charity Singles.
- My obsession with my iPod Touch...wait, did i mention that already? I'm obsessed.
- RuPaul's Drag Race Season Two: a blow by blow.
- More Hot Nude Yoga Stories...this time from my Tantric Yoga and Sexual Kung Fu workshop - that is a four part series.
- GLEEtasticness - I can't wait until April.

That's just a taste of the juiciness to come. Whet your appetite, let the juice run down your cheek and get ready for

LOO'S VIEW...SEASON TWO...COMING SOON.

I told you there'd be more rhyming.

Talk soon.