It's only the second week of December, but I already feel like I'm slowly being pa-rumpa-pum-pummed to death. And not in a good way either *wink wink*

I really do want to get into the spirit of Xmas, but I guess it's kinda hard when you work in field that profits directly from the exploitation of the season.

Maybe it's up to me to do more to get into the swing of things...insteada just waiting for it to happen to me.

I oughta get a posse together and go out carolling...
I oughta invite peops over for some puncha crema and ham cutters...
I oughta work harder at popularising a Bajan version of mistletoe.

Boy would that come in handy.

What a week.
The stupid computer in the office has taken the printer's lead, and has joined in the quest to drive me bonkers.
Translation: no logging on during the day to distract me from actually working. Bummer.

My weeknights had been commandeered by rehearsals for a group performance for The NIFCA Gala Awards ceremony.
It was a great experience working with dancers from the other genres.

I'll especially miss *Marla, the spunky redhead, who ate all my Eclipse, and accidentally mooned me at point-blank range, and *Isaac, the obviously homosexual young dancer, who, in one number, was made to perform bareback against his will. Oh, how I love to watch him wine.

*Names have been changed to protect the identities of the individuals.

C.O.T.

Well, he finally confessed why he's been treating me like shit for the last 3 or so weeks, after I had to pretty much drag it out of him, that is.
Here I was thinking that he had problems at home....here I was, worrying that something might be really wrong.
Why had he been so moody and distant, I asked....
"Because," he finally replied, "I ainno, you's just annoy me sometimes."

The anger didn't settle in right away. But now it has.
Who the ass does he think he is? I put up with his crap for so long, refraining from cussing him out, even though he really and truly deserved it, was actually WORRIED about the boy, for him to come and tell me, that he was acting like a punk because I annoy him???
Is he for real??? Like he doesn't annoy the snot outa me at times!
Why de france he couldn't be upfront about it? He could either tell me what's buggin' him, or get the hell over it, but don't sulk and gimme stink looks every time I ask him to dance!
Schuuuupes.
Why is this so hard?