Right now, I am holding my sides - that is with a heating pad. I just finished my first Laughter Yoga class. And that my friends is what sets the Westside apart from downtown.
That part of town is a different kind of nuts.
Yeap. It is so pristine, with such fresh air, and no hassles with parking - that the people there do laughter yoga. I mean what else is there to do when you are bored out of your mind, and you want to release stress without going to a therapist?
Hah. Hah. Hah.
You laugh.
You do the sticky laugh. You do the "ho, ha, ha" laugh. You put a laughter pill in your mouth. You sing a Disney song and you laugh while doing a downward dog. I laughed so much, that I am writing this post with a laughter endorphanized buzz. In other words, I'm stoned on myself.
I went to laughter yoga because I am a searcher. A seeker. Maybe even a Chinese Woman Living in a Jewish Woman's Body. Plus, the woman who teaches the one-hour class has been wanting me to go now for three years! So I went.
And I have since realized that all the street guys on the corner - let's say the ones on Main and 6th, or Broadway and 9th - you know the ones who laugh to themselves out loud - ARE NOT NUTS, and they don't deserve to be taken away in a strait jacket - ever.
They are just in touch with their inner laughter - their stress throttle has been unthrottled - and they unlike myself held on to their $15 bucks.
Now that's worth a laugh SUCKER.
That would be me.
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