Friday, 7 August 2015

I am what I am

Well, well, well... life has a funny way of sneaking upon ya when ya think everything's ok and everything's going right... thank you, Alanis. I was not thinking of you when I fucked her.

How's that for a sensical and obscure blog opener? If you know the references, you have just dated yourself. Those bits happened 20 years ago. And yes, it's been a long time since I posted my last blog, which was about that chunk of a Scientology gay hunk Tom Cruise. Life threw a couple minor curveball my way in the last few months, nothing major and nothing bad really. Sometimes ya oughta get out of your comfort zone, like me doing my first ever mud race. Getting mud in your junk and asshole is just so refreshing that everyone should try it at least once. Towards the end of the race I reignited the fire of a recent injury in my leg but I refused to give up. There's no way I would pass up the chance of sliding down a muddy slide and feeling the dirty water caressing my anus! Hmm... is there such a thing as muddy water fetish? I may have it.

My point is: I was just being my stubborn (or determined?) self. Screw the ability to do virasana ever again. I want my anus in dirty, muddy water!

[Rewind a little]

There's been a lot of talk about Caitlyn Jenner, formerly known as Kim and Kris Kadarshian's bitch... I joke! I joke! Put away your pitchforks and fire torch, please.

Honestly, I knew next to nothing about Bruce Jenner except he won a bunch of Olympic medals many moons ago, and that he's a sideshow on that trashy Kadarshian trashy trash trash reality trash show. Did I mention that it's a trashy reality show? Yes, it is trashy, you know, like really trashy except it's even trashier, like a big pile of steamy fecal matter with a cherry on top. I admit I did watch almost a full episode of that trashy show on a plane. It was about Kim Kadarshian having a shitty day because her hair didn't look right or something. Nothing against the Kadarshians, but please kindly go away, buy yourself a landfill and throw yourself and your kula in it. Trash belongs to landfills.

My point is that I paid them no mind until Bruce, or Caitlyn's transformation. This is not a blog about whether the term "tranny" is derogatory or insensitive. Though I do think the outcry of the use of the term "tranny" is a little much. Stop victimizing yourself and own it. But I digress. It is obviously a big decision for Caitlyn and it is more than a publicity stunt. No man would wake up one day and decide to chop off his junk to get some press. If he happens to make some money along the way, bonus!

Caitlyn wanted to be Caitlyn and she finally did it. Kudos to her.

[Rewind a whole bunch]

I was always told by my parents to socialize and mingle and have a gazillion friends, while I just wanted to stay in and read a book, or masturbate, or something people do alone. In my parents' eyes, I was defective because I wasn't a "normal" kid like my cousins or our neighbours' kids. I was too short, too fat and had no hair on my legs. I wasn't interested in buzzing around people like flies around shit. I needed corrective spectacles and loved to masturbate. I was never permitted to be me, the introverted me, the insightful and intelligent me, the sexy me, the sarcastic me. Shit, I got in trouble so many times because I didn't address my grandmas as elders properly. They were assholes. When I did address them, it was never in a beautiful and poetic manner as they expected. Eventually I realized I would never get my parents' or their mothers' approval because I am not what they want me to be. Now I am trying and doing things (mostly) according to my own agenda... things that my parents frown on like running a mud race, yoga, a nice haircut, video games, excessive masturbation or shaving my pubes.

I gotta be me.

In the last few years I did a lot of psychocharacterwhatiswrongwithyou type of analysis. The yoga meltdown in 2012 made me examine ME a lot. For the longest time I didn't even realize I was an introvert. By the way, introverts rule the universe!

I never fully embraced my sense of humour and cuntiness until I gave myself permission to express myself. The fact is we too often seek approval from the wrong people, AND the other fact is we need to find out who we are and accept ourselves for who we are. But this does not mean some of you sickos should run to a grocery store and start humping a pack of ground beef or start peeing in your granny's coffee... hmm... well, I would totally piss in my grannies' coffee but that's beside my point. The important thing, which is also something I'm still working on, is to accept who you are and be comfortable with it. If who you are needs help, then by all means get help and don't deny it. Don't deny who you are.

Once you have found and accepted who you are, clarity comes. You can smell and see bullshit, grow as a person, your anus blossoms, unicorns humping, so on and so forth.

All is well and everything is hunky-dory, right?

What if, your true innate self is an asshole? Do you still want to acknowledge and accept your true innate self as an asshole? Do you even know your true and innate self is an asshole? Would you or should you embrace your assholeness and be an asshole?

Exhibit 1: There's a lot of ass here, and not just Kim's.
Without a doubt his true innate self is a perverted misogynist asshole. He even admitted to drugging his victims... 35 of them and counting. He still denies any "legal" transgression, claiming either everything was consensual or he has never met these women, though his actions prove that he is a perverted misogynist asshole. He is being his true innate self as a perverted misogynist asshole but he doesn't see himself as perverted or misogynist. His logic is: they didn't say no (because they were drugged so they couldn't), therefore, it's consensual and nothing illegal. Since it's consensual and not illegal, he is not a perverted misogynist asshole and everyone should shut up about it. In his eyes, he is practically the defender of morals.

Exhibit 2: SUUUUPAAAHHHH SAIYAAAAN 超サイヤ人ゴッド!!!!!
Need I say more? That hair is clearly the manifestation of his inner racist egotistic assholeness. Look at it! His hair demands your attention on all runways and red carpets! In fact, I think 80% of his blood circulates in his hair while the rest is split between his mouth and his penis. None for his brain though... obviously he doesn't use it or need it. He surely knows he is a racist egotistic asshole. Not only does he embrace his assholeness, but also he capitalizes on it. For that, I say "well done, Mr. Future President of USA!"

Exhibit 3: Asshole Guru John Sans Testicles
Exhibit 4: Bikram Speedon't
CASE #3 & #4
These two yoga guru fine specimen of integrity require no introduction. I would love to see them in some bareback scat fisting porn. In fact, I think I have... I think the film was called "bareback scat play with asshole yoga guru" or something Sridaiva like that. Pig out on your innate perverted misogynist assholeness? Check! Deny any legal transgression? Check! Blame everyone else? Check! Slimy as fuck? Check! Gi-normous ego? Check! Have your own cult? Check! Inappropriate sexual relations with students? Check!

Wait a sec... if accepting and embracing yourself is a good thing, what has gone wrong with these assholes? They are just accepting and embracing their asshole selves, right?

I am glad you asked, my children!

My other buddy Buddha says it best: nothing you can bring except your own deeds.

Don't get your panties in a bunch and hear me out. Y'all have heard of a variation of it, you know, like "you are what you eat", "you reap what you sow", Newton's third law of physics and of course "karma". What Buddha means, in simple terms, is that your own deeds are the only thing you can bring with you when you pass. They are the only thing matters at the end of the day. It goes beyond "being yourself" or "embracing yourself", because if by being yourself is hurting others, that is a bad deed you'll carry with you even when there's no apparent repercussion. A bad deed is a bad deed, legal or otherwise. Ya hear, Mr. Cosby?

Remember an asshole named Hitler who really believed in himself and started a thing called World War II? Or that boy who embraces his inner child and cries wolf too many times? Things didn't turn out too well for him. But in Caitlyn Jenner's case, being herself has given her a voice to speak out for many who face the same challenge. That's a good deed in my book.

Like the notches on your bedposts... they may turn out to be genital warts, or you can still wear white when you walk down the aisle. The notches will always be on your bedposts.

A virgin bride with genital warts... that's quite a juxtaposition.

Only you carry your deeds, dead or alive. Capisce?

I wonder how yoga gurus John Sans Testicles and Bikram Speedon't would answer the question "do you love and embrace yourself as a perverted misogynist asshole?".

At the time of writing, Guru Purnima had just passed. GP is a festival in India and Nepal dedicated to (spiritual) teachers. I want to thank those who have shown me the paths. Those who act, look and smell like a dirty asshole, I want to thank you for showing me what not to do as a person with integrity. If I stopped coming your class, or if I make a point of erasing your existence in social media, it's time you looked in the mirror, or urinated on the floor and looked in the puddle. Your self, your action, your karma, your deed.

Time to wash that mud off my anus.

Wednesday, 1 April 2015

Scientologist Tom Cruise Speaks Out Against Arkansas Discriminatory Bill

Scientology's Freedom Medal of Valor winner Tom Cruise

| Daily SY News | 04.01.2015 |

Scientology's Freedom Medal of Valor winner and High Heels For Men advocate Tom Cruise held a news conference today to publicly denounce the Arkansas religious bill, which many viewed as discrimination against gays and lesbians. Cruise urged Arkansas Gov. Asa Hutchinson to send the Religious Freedom Restoration Act back to the Republican-controlled state legislature for a rewrite.

With fellow Scientologist and life partner John Travolta by his side, Cruise fought back tears while speaking to the crowd.

"As a Scientologist with a short stature, I experience discrimination everyday", said Cruise. "Just this morning Richard Gere and I went to the SPCA to... hmm... rescue some gerbils... you know, for leisure and stuff... Richard got his no problem but I was denied because my belief in Xenu burdened SPCA's policy on common sense. That's what they said. They called me... an abuse-enabling shorty."

"How can this still happen in this day and age? I am denied of the leisure of gerbil because I'm a Scientologist. Don't they know I am a level 8 Operating Thetan, the highest there is in Scientology? Level 8! A level that brings about a resurgence of power and native abilities for myself? Y'all Suppressive Peeps just don't get it! That means I have superpowers. I can talk to Xenu and Ronnie H [note: this is how Scientologists address founder L. Ron Hubbard] any time via telepathy. Don't get me started on how much money I spent to get to OT8. Good thing I got millions from making movies and stuff."

Cruise recalled a disturbing incident at Disneyland with his ex-wife Nicole Kidman. He was not allowed to go on a ride because he did not meet the minimum height requirement.

"Same thing happened again when I went to Chucky Cheese with my daughter Sushi... err... Suri. She had to go on the little roller coaster by herself because she made the minimum height requirement... well... I didn't."

"Frankly, right now, I am having doubts about having our commitment ceremony in Arkansas", he said while still tightly holding the hand of life partner John Travolta. Cruise and Travolta have always intended to have their commitment ceremony in the headquarters of Walmart in Arkansas. They both have been the winners of People of Walmart.

"What if I can't find a florist who accepts my belief in Xenu and Ronnie H? What if I can't find a band that embraces our practice of blackmailing and brainwashing? What if Nicole or Katie came forward and told the truth? Oh Jeebus, just the thought of it makes me gag!"

Cruise said he even considered giving up his Scientology's Free Medal of Valor. At the end of the day, he just couldn't do it. The thought of disconnecting with the giant shiny medal, or no longer having access to slaves to do chores for free would be too much for the frail short man.

In closing, Cruise had this one final message to Arkansas Gov. Asa Hutchinson.

"Asa... remember the good times we had together? Those secret camping trips that neither of us wanted to tell others? The sleepover nights in your basement while your wife pretended to be asleep? The showers we shared after our massages? The naked workouts? Please! I beg you. Please don't support discrimination by passing this discriminatory bill. You are a big man... and I know it. Please do the right thing."

- Sarcastic Yogi is a writer for Daily SY News. Follow him on Twitter @sarcastic_yogi

Friday, 20 March 2015

12 years a yoga slave

Some people come in our life as blessings. 
Others come in our life as lessons. 
- Mother Teresa

[Rewind a stroke and a half]

"Uranus will be sweetly angled, showering you with surprises"... yes, that was indeed my horoscope for the month of December in 2014. I felt so lucky. Uranus sweetly angled? At me? Bring on the showers with golden surprises!

That would've been a great start to a blog... but it didn't happen. Yes, I know. It's been a long time since I posted a blog. Sorry for depriving y'all of my auspiciously sinful wisdom. Mind you, not that I was short on inspiration... it's more like life got in the way, you know, like porn, masturbation, alcohol... and not in that order. But honestly, I think I am addicted to procrastination. It's delicious and I don't care if it's not conducive to my well being. Screw healthy living! I embrace my vices and porn, thank you very much.

Or perhaps procrastination has its place in the universe?

[Rewind 2.54cm]

I was just in YVR for a short visit. It was a nice break with good food and prearranged booty calls. The weather was surprisingly beautiful. I got to hang out with Wray Wray and we chatted about yoga and boys. I met Wray Wray many moons ago at a 3A yoga wicca grand gathering, and somehow we stayed in touch. And yes, we talked about all of you... well, mostly me badmouthing all of you. I am just awful and hateful that way, but do y'all expect anything less?

After we parted, I kept wondering why it took many of us so long to speak out about the asshole guru John Sans Testicles, and why so many stayed in that pile of steaming fecal matter, knowing they're in a pile of steaming fecal matter. Worse yet, why do some voluntarily keep going back for more, knowing it is a pile of steaming fecal matter?

[Rewind a whole bunch]

I went to my first yoga class 178 years ago, around the same time when Madonna went all spiritual and virginal. The class was in a gym somewhere and led by a lady who looked like Jesus with hairy pits... ok, I can't remember if she looked like Jesus or had hairy pits, but let's just go with that controversial description. Someone gave me a couple of free passes to some yoga intro thing and surely I was determined to learn how to put my legs behind my head for ventilation purposes. The "class" turned out to be a Mysore-style vinyasa inspired practice but led by a lady who looked like Jesus with hairy pits, in a corner somewhere in a gym while there was constant yapping and grunting from other people lifting weights and shit. I had no clue what a down dog was or how to float like Richard Freeman. The lady who looked like Jesus with hairy pits just walked around spewing out "up dog! down dog! jump!" and paid no attention to me who was clearly struggling. Needless to say it was an awful experience and I realized even a lady who looked like Jesus with hairy pits can be a shitty yoga teacher.

I never set foot in another yoga studio until a few years later when I met The Divine Miss N. The rest is history. I finally stopped going to her class in 2013. Before her fans, newly recruited followers, "peers" (I use that term loosely and with a ton of reservation) and such calling me angry, ungrateful, need-to-let-go and other stuff... I am not angry or ungrateful. In fact, I should've stopped going to her class a long time ago, because our relationship never was what I thought it was.

Sorry, I am not going to air any dirty laundry. I have my reasons and let's just leave it at that. But it's more interesting to explore why it took so long than why I did it. That's the real lesson here.

[Fast forward a couple of pounds]

Wow, shit just got really real for Bill Cosby. To the survivors of the 3A yoga inc. meltdown, it sounds awfully familiar. A prominent public figure who allegedly used his status to get into the pants of many. Last I checked at least 18 women came forward. You know what they say: it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, shits like a duck... I wonder if Cosby collected pubes from these women and put them in jars. Allegedly.

Similar to the 3A yoga inc. meltdown, it took the victims years before they finally spoke out. I start to see a pattern here... do you?

[Fast forward two inches]

Thursday, 16 October 2014

Best of my Facebook profile pictures: random and sexy

Yes, yes, I know. My last few blogs have been a tad too serious and tame. But worry no more! Sarcastic Yogi listens and does not disappoint... well actually I am feeling a little lazy and under the influence of cold medicine... here's a bunch of random and sexy pictures I found on the internet and used as my Facebook profile picture. Of course I may have stuck in one or two yoga related photos in there. Ya gotta get some yoga in no matter what, ya know, 'cos the asshole guru John Sans Testicles, the creator of Sridaiva Shitdaiva Yoga and 3A Yoga Inc. is back! Since we just had our Thanksgiving in Canada, I want to say, under the influence of cold medicine, that I am thankful for... hmm... cold medicine of course! I don't smoke marijuana like the asshole guru John Sans Testicles, ya know!

Just want to start this blog off with a hot guy with a hot fashion sense and a bottle of mayonnaise.
I can totally relate. Sometimes I get confused and don't know if the cups go in the front or back.
Fuck yeah! Murderous Barbie, what's not to love? Courtesy of Mariel Clayton
Caption 1) some weird straight guy's lesbian fantasy
Caption 2) some weird home made redneck amusement park ride
Caption 3) some weird love triangle featured on Jerry Springer
You either get it or you don't, it's just that simiple.
That's right, woman! Know your place!
A classic beauty featured on People of Walmart, I simple can't take my eyes off that belt!
This is how male homosapien determines if the female is ready to mate. In this case, the female is all warm and moist, providing that his fingers aren't in her diaper.
And speaking of diaper... hmm...
She said:  ちょっとまってよ!!!
He said: Oh just pee, lady!
No other way to put it, a man's best friend is a pervert who loves Scrabble.
Speaking of pervert... perversion knows no boundary, even when you are old and need a scooter to move around. You are still a walking hard-on.
PS: be proud of your hard-on if you are over 60, just don't show it to your neighbours or their kids.
Nothing to see here, just some dude drinking his own urine in a survival situation. Move along!
Sensible, fashionable and practical. #WhatWouldJoanSay #WWJS 
For the sanctity of their marriage, I hope he has a large penis. 
It's hard to be objectified as a piece of meat on a daily basis. It's hard!
It's a beautiful picture depicting a bonding moment between a father and his daughter through ice-cream and piss.
Hot sexy hairy guy with guns and shit... I am in love!
"You dress like a whore!"
"No! YOU dress like a whore!"
Crack or thong? I can't decide.
The prostate-exam grapple... "while you're in there, can you check my tonsils, too?"
Caption 1) the fountain of youth in jizz-cuzzi
Caption 2) some men do enjoy getting facials
LOVE <3 <3 <3
I don't think that's coffee.
Young girls curious about what a blowjob feels like
My act when I worked for Cirque du Soleil... don't try this at home without parental supervision.
The dingleberry of yoga! The goddess of compassion! The inventor of gimmicky Sridaiva Shitdaiva Yoga, Mr. John Friend Sans Testicles! You can learn all about John and his coven angels at The Daily Beast and The Huffington Post. Here's the link to my very intimate interview with John and Gasi.
Guruji Jois helping his students engage their mula bandha and vulva bandha
My neighbour's daughter helping her dog engage its mula bandha
I love you, too, cunt!
Nope. And don't hang your shit on me.
Something borrowed, something blue
I think his balls are the something blue.
I know pronounce you Mister and Missus PleasePutSomeFuckingClothesOnFFS. 
Of course, it's party time at the reception!

Namafuckingste Peace out.

Saturday, 4 October 2014

Sarcastic Yogi, the messiah of yoga, fashion and stuff!

[DISCLAIMER: if you think you're mentioned in this blog... you're wrong. Don't be so vain... you're so vain... you think this blog is about you, don't you? don't you?]

I know. It's been a long time. Sorry to have deprived y'all of tinglingly and politically incorrect Sarcastic Yogi goodness.

The world has not been a particularly pretty place for quite some time. I know, we should all think the glass is half-full, blah blah blah... well, in this case, the glass might be broken and will cut your mouth... wait, yes, Sarcastic Yogi is not angry and will refrain from the use of fluffy and violent words... yeah, right.

Rewind a little...

Back in June there was the shooting incident... one of too many... in Moncton, New Brunswick. A despicable wacko decided to kill innocent people because he's angry with the world and that it's his right to bear arms. I'm not opposed to owning a small firearm for protection. But anyone who thinks it's his/her right to prance around with a loaded semi-automatic rifle is IMO a little fucked in the head. Unless you live in a war torn or zombie infested country, why do you think it's your right to own a semi-automatic rifle? To shoot beer cans at Thanksgiving dinner? To massage your prostate gland? To impregnate your stepmother?

Even wiping your ass with toilet paper is not a right. There are people in the world who have never sat on a ceramic American Delta Standard Kohler toilet to do number one or number two. How about we fix problems as such before you bitch about your right to bear arms? Thank you.

Then there's ongoing madness in the Middle East, while people are fighting for democracy in Hong Kong and Ebola is trying to eat everyone alive... Oh man, where do I begin?

Rewind 2.67 kilograms...

I cannot remember how or when exactly I met Nicki NotMinaj. I can only remember at some yoga workshop this woman with a strange accent started talking to me. At first I thought "hey, Sarcastic Yogi is gonna get some!", but then I realized A) I wasn't a vegetarian and B) Madam Donatella at Dionne Warwick and Psychic Friends had warned me to avoid any lesbianic encounter, unless it's with Ms. Dionne Warwick and we must both face the third ascension of rising Labia Libra while wearing crotchless panties.

Obviously Nicki NotMinaj and I never got it on because that'd be gross... and getting it on with Ms. Dionne Warwick facing the third ascension of rising Labia Libra while wearing crotchless panties would also be so so so gross. Yeah, just gross. Yuck!

We never crossed path again until the 3A Yoga Inc. meltdown in 2012. I still cannot remember how we re-started communicating, or even how we became "friends" on Facebook. At the time Nicki NotMinaj already went back to Germany (thus the accent) and had to deal with the aftershock of the meltdown in Germany. I guess it's fair to say yoga drama reintroduced us to each other. We tried to hook up a few times, in a non-lesbianic fashion, free of Ms. Dionne Warwick and her crotchless panties, after she moved back to Calgary. It never happened because somehow life always got in the way.

Then I found out Nicki NotMinaj had breast cancer, the night before her surgery. I was at a loss for words. What the fuck? How's that possible? Me with no eye-popping, life-saving, thigh-perspiring advice?

I felt useless and vulnerable... I hate it.

Rewind a whole bunch...

In case you aren't aware, my Aunt Miranda is very special and smart. You can read some of the pearls came out of her mouth and fell on her neck here. Both Aunt Miranda and her husband, Uncle Sam, are special in all kinds of right and wrong ways. They had it good for a very long time, and I mean like really good... like Donald Trump good and equally as tacky. It's always strange to trash talk Aunt Miranda and Uncle Sam because they aren't bad people. Tacky but not bad. In fact back when they had it so so so good, they would force people to borrow money from them without any kind of written proof. Yup, all on faith and trust and shit. They figured they had the solution to everyone's problem: cash.

Like I said, Aunt Miranda and Uncle Sam are tacky but not bad people. They sincerely thought they could save the world... until they realized they no longer had cash to throw away the way they had been. They became close friends with Black Jack and Poker in Vegas. They were so close that not only themselves, but also their guests had complimentary flights and hotels to the casinos in Vegas.

You can imagine how high rolling they were, and I don't need to tell you casinos are not charity. Bellagio and MGM are in the business of getting money from you.

At the end of the day, their money didn't solve anyone's problems. Nobody has anything tangible to prove the existence of such an obscene amount of cash. In fact their money became their problem, to the point where a payment to their debt was in the order of $250K. I don't even know anyone who has $250K in cash, let alone throwing it all away.

I know some of you cannot wait to eagerly turn on your Alcoholic Anonymous 10-step program mode, and cannot wait to stand on the soapbox to talk about addiction, something is missing in their lives, they need to face their demon... you cannot wait to give advice to the problems YOU think THEY have.

Fast forward a bit...

Tuesday, 29 July 2014

The Stepford Wives of Yoga

[This blog is brought to you by the coy and awesome Ginger from San Francisco. Trust me, she is awesome.]

Originally I was going to write about imaginary drunk calls from a few figureheads and wannabes in the yoga community. As I was rambling on, I went off on a tangent and landed on something different. So I'm saving those juicy imaginary drunk calls from the yoga figureheads for later.

Rewind a little...

At the time of writing, the supposedly greatest outdoor show on earth had just finished. Thank you Jeebus! The smell of pancake, beer and vomit is finally gone. People are no longer drunk and horny, but rather hungover and worried about STDs. Princess Madgelover and I went down to the venue to check out the latest weird deep fried garbage carnival food. To my utter disappointment, I didn't see any chocolate covered bacon wrapped deep fried bull testicles... but I digress. I did, however, notice 99% of the ladies... and I do use that term loosely, pun intended... anyway, it appeared that the must-have item of the loose lady uniform for the supposedly greatest outdoor show on earth was a pair of extremely short jean shorts. Think daisy dukes but half the length minus two inches. I could literally read their lips. Ick!

But what struck me the most was they all dressed and acted exactly the same: shorts short enough to be called a belt with body language that says "I wanna ride some cowboys!"

You might as well call the supposedly greatest outdoor show on earth the mating season of horndogs.

Rewind a whole lot...

I have always been an outcast of sort. What a shocker.

In part it's because of my introvertiousnessity, but largely because I get turned off by the imposed expectations of fitting in a shape or form that I... well, don't fit in. This has nothing to do with me trying to cause trouble or be a rebel, although I often come across as a trouble maker and seriously, I have no interest in trying to revolutionize anything. People close to me know that I am disciplined and focused. Boundaries are critical. But at the same time, I am always intrigued by things that are outside the box. When I go shopping, I'm always drawn to the underdog or one-of-a-kind (aka "different") type of items even when they don't fit. To this day I have yet to own an Apple product, capisce?

I love being the somewhat nonconforming yet creative oddball in the herd.

Btw, why do all nonconformists look alike?

Can you see Sarcastic Yogi?

Friday, 13 June 2014

Before Sarcastic Yogi, there was Horny Teenage Boy

We have all heard it: be careful what you put on the interwildwildwest because once it's out there, it stays there forever.

So I came across a few pieces I posted on the interwildwildwest many moons ago, under my previous secret identity Horny Teenage Boy. They were about Mariah Carey and had nothing to do with yoga or life... I guess I have always disliked self-absorbed princesses.

Who knew I once was a horny teenage boy. Ha!

[WARNING] If you are a Mariah fan, have no sense of humour, or if you are looking for a grand lesson on light of yoga, stop reading now. Horny Teenage Boy was even more offensive than Sarcastic Yogi. You have been warned.

EXCLUSIVE - Mariah got new breasts and they don't look like anything you have ever seen before. The 30 year-old trailer park princess revealed in an interview that she got yet again a new pair of breasts.

"These babies ain't nothing y'all ever seen!", said Mariah as she proceeded to remove her clothes. Right under her old pair of fake breasts, there was another pair of fake breasts. Now Mariah has four breasts.

"I feel so much better now. I figured most of my clients like my fake boobs. I have twice the confidence now. Now I can proudly say I have four tits just like a real cow does. My clients love the fact that for the price of one, they can play with two sets of tits! My pimp told me my booking is so full that I practically have to be on my back with my legs up for the next five years!"

When asked about her music career since she'd be on her back with her legs up in the next five years, the four-breasted singer simply shrugged.

"No sweat there. They buy my CDs ain't cos of my shit music. They buy'em cos of my fake boobs! As long as I keep showing them and sell my singles for less than a dollar, I'll have more hits. Besides, I have two more tits now. Can you imagine? I'll be on the top of the chart forever!"

- Horny Teenage Boy

(Daily Trailer Park News)

Mariah Carey was admitted to the hospital after a horse riding accident.