Bootcamp and Baby Back Ribs

I have 6 posts coming down the pipe (pike? which is it?) that involve plenty of fatty, meaty lovin'. Do you want a preview?

artichoke babybackribs bacon bbqsauce beef bellpepper breadcrumbs butter cheese cocoa garlic gruyere heavycream hotsauce lamb leek oil onion paprika parmesean parsley pepper portabella potato ricottasalata salt tarragon tomato

created at TagCrowd.com

Unfortunately, I'm having a setback with my internet connection at home so I can't post them yet. But I can write more about Bikram Yoga!! Woot!! Last post about Bikram...I promise...until I go to Teacher Training Bootcamp and do 12 hours of Bikram Yoga a day for 9 weeks....just kidding. I'll post that on another blog. Sweatybacon.blogspot.com? Wouldyoucallahot-yogia"hogie".blogspot.com?

Despite my love for Bikram, I'm thoroughly convinced that I was never meant to be a true "yogi." First, I've never been to a true yoga class, mainly because I'm from the Midwest, and we just don't do yoga. If we need to find peace, we scalp tickets to a baseball game and cuss at/cheer on the pitcher with a $14.00 beer in one hand, and some $9 Dippin' Dots in the other one. It's not perfectly balanced, but it's close.

Also, my last Bikram class was probably the closest I'll get to yoga that's not intense and competitive, and I actually got angry! Who gets mad during yoga?! Type-A-a**holes who shouldn't do yoga in the first place, that's who.

My instructor was very sweet. But she took so long between postures assuring us that we were "perfect just the way we are" and "profound creatures to be respected" that I got distracted. And guess what I learned? If I get distracted during Bikram, I can convince myself that the room is hot enough to cause my face to spontaneously combust, and that it's going up in flames right there as I contemplate my "human perfection." Fun!

The instructor was also uber-helpful and gave lots of instructions. She just chose to do so right as I was giving myself the final "push" in the posture, pulling, pushing, stretching, and flexing everything as hard as I could in the final second....the final second of the postur....the fina....OH FOR GOD'S SAKE IF HE DOESN'T KNOW WHICH FOOT IS HIS LEFT ONE YOU CAN'T HELP HIM NOW JUST TELL ME I CAN COME OUT OF THIS DAMNED POSTURE!!

See? Angry yogi.

Please oh please can my next instructor bark into the headset at a rapid-fire pace, and save all the "you're a beautiful, light-weight flower" comments for the real yogis? I just want to kick my own ass in a 110 degree room for 90 minutes, and I don't think that's too much to ask. :)

UPDATE: Adam, oh divine yoga drill sergeant. You made people stay in the room despite the heat and pushed me to do the full-backbend-Camel pose for an entire minute (woohoo headrush!). Bless you.