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2008-06-26 - 12:03 p.m.

I use the word "yoga" at least 20 times a week. Multiplied by the number of years I've been involved with the stuff, that's a lot of repetition of a sound vibration that I have always found vaguely unlikeable.

I have found lately that substituting the word "jazzercise" really livens up my life.

Anyway, this is germane to today's post because, despite being deep into a Josephine Tey jag, I could physically not stop myself from borrowing this goofy novel about the trials and tribulations of a fledgling yoga instructor, from the library.

Aside from an abortive attempt to read In Her Shoes because I was tricked into thinking it might be ok, this is my first real dip into the dreaded "chick lit" waters. It is not very good--it reads like YA for adults--but every chapter starts with some kind of interesting scriptural quote, and I suspect it might actually be going somewhere. Mebbe. We'll see.

And speaking of abortive, I had to stop watching this film because it is quite uncomfortable.

Gory violence? Rotting corpses? No, I like that stuff.

This mild-mannered comedy-drama about huckster record producers is difficult to watch because it includes hidden-camera footage of real, unsuspecting people auditioning to be on a bogus record label, as part of the fictitious storyline.

I imagine that the filmmakers got releases from the people whose auditions were used, but that makes it no less painful to witness these hopeful, deluded performers being suckered into a phony record deal. Ugh.

It's a good movie, really quite unique, but it's not for the faint of heart.

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