Christmas came and went, and somehow everyone in our household was so busy that not ONE string of lights was hung! It's kind of sad that Christmas doesn't evoke the same emotion in me as it has in years past...but, even MORE sad: I don't really have the time to analyse this. It's on to the New Year!

Good grief, I don't even have time to have my annual "Oh-no-the year's-over-ALREADY???" panic attack.
Right now, all I'm thinking about is this trip to Blackpool. The adventure begins at 5pm on January 1st when we have to check in at Grantley Adams International.

I have a recurring dream that I'm rushing to catch a flight and I forget something essential. I always wake from it feeling anxious and I have no idea why this bothers me so much.

Everyone's been telling me absolute horror stories about how bad the weather is up there right now, and how much my ass is going to resemble an icicle at various points on the trip. So far I've been the most vocal in the group about my apprehension towards the drastic temperature change and they all make fun of me, but I've made up my mind that once we're there, no-one's gonna hear a peep outa me!

That's right, I'm gonna be SuperWoman up there.
I'm gonna handle it better than ANY of 'em!
I'm gonna wear that ridiculous roll-down stocking hat like it ain' nuttin'.
I'm gonna layer 'til I look like a fleece-covered whale and I'll smile through it.
I'll try SO hard not to earn the title of Ms. Negative Vibes on this trip and to keep the complaints to a minimum!

All I ask is that the Lord give me the strength to endure (and maybe even enjoy) the company of a couple of my travel companions in particular with whom I'd rather not spend 7 minutes, much less 7 days.

Let the positivity begin......NOW!!

Here's to goin' up there and showin' those Brits how we do things here in Buhbaduss!!!

I juuuuuust came back from the Blood Collection Centre at Q.E.H.

That's right, I gave blood for the first time and I'm feeling mighty proud of myself.

I accompanied the Private on his good deed mission for the father of a co-worker.
For a military man, he's kind of a big wuss when it comes to needles, and the nurses all laughed at him when he kept jerking his hand away at the last second before they could stick him. They laughed, but that boy impressed me more than I can say...he was scared as hell, but he went through with it anyway. And for a total stranger. He's the bomb.

I can let my brave facade slip away now that I'm back in my nice safe office but in the cold waiting room of the Collection Centre, I couldn't stop fidgeting and swallowing hard. I couldn't let on though; I HAD to show the Private how a REAL soldier gives blood! I was calm and cool. The only thing that might have given away my true feelings was that I couldn't stop myself from asking "Wait...you guys don't REALLY need O negative...do you????" I'm not sure if I fooled 'em.

It really didn't hurt as much as I imagined it would, even though the needle is as wide as pencil lead. The initial jab in the thumb to test for anaemia definately hurt more.

It's Christmas everybody...give the gift of life!

I know just how it feels to be the one who watches while someone else hooks up with all your love interests, so even though he really works my nerves sometimes, I can't help but feel bad for him. Every single time...and by the same person.
I mean, it really isn't his own fault that he has NO "game" whatsoever. In fact, sometimes one might get the impression he was raised in a barn.
And I don't even know if I could help him...he'd never take my advice.

Oh, but just in case he ever DOES, I'll have my fabulous
"Abominable Snowman Makeover Strategy" ready!

1.) Get him to eat right and pump some iron. Man-breasts aren't a turn-on.
2.) Mani/pedicure those nails. The first thing I think when I see a dude with long nails is "He obviously doesn't have a girlfriend!" *wicked giggle*
3.) Show him the benefits of an iron. Wrinkles don't make one macho, and crisp shirts don't make one sissy.
4.) Convince him that it IS necessary to wear a clean shirt every time.
5.) Enroll him in an etiquette class. Yes, some things can only be accomplished by professionals.
6.) Help him understand that ladies like to hear compliments.
7.) Pry him away from his mother's side. After all, how can one get one's mack on with mummy looking over one's shoulder?


Ah yes, he'd be fierce!

Performed at the Governor General's Awards Ceremony on Independence Day.
I must be living under a rock because I didn't even realise what an honour it was to be selected, until I discovered that same evening, that there were only 6 acts picked from the entire NIFCA presentation! Wow, gotta say, I was dumbstruck for a minute when I finally caught on.

C.O.T.

* How does one know when one is having a nervous breakdown? Does it happen gradually, or is it a situation like when there's that one straw that breaks the camel's back? Hmmm.

C.O.T.

I don't know why I noticed this, but this morning not a single car driving directly in front of me, turned to the left...if they left the main road, they all turned to the right. Coincidence....or something far more mysterious?
Strange things are afoot.

C.O.T.

Speaking of a foot, come on out a shake yours at a fund-raising latin party goin' down THIS Friday night (9th Dec.) at the Foundation school Hall. Starts at 9pm and it's ONLY $10!

Proceeds go towards helping my partner & me, and three other couples (Barbados Ballroom Travelling Team), get to the shivery dancefloors of Blackpool, England, to rep for B'dos in the Champions of Tomorrow 2006 competition.

Come on out and support! Donations always welcome too! There's a neck massage in it for ya!

Lil' Rick's Birthday Bash last Saturday sure was an eye-opener.

I had my doubts about it being pulled off at the Gymnasium, but everybody and dem parakeet turned up to the fete! The entire floor area of the Gym (except for the stage) was packed! What's that, like 2000...3000 people?

As soon as I entered I noticed that the air was fair to partly cloudy. Someone told me that was due to the smoke machine set up in the corner. Yeah right...like that was fooling anybody! As if everything under the sun wasn't being smoked in there that night! Silly me,

Oh, and I must say, the ladies were undressed to kill! About 1 in 4 females was wearing a form-fitting minidress, the skirt hem of which ended "thisclose" to their crotch area! The whole night the silly girls were walking around tugging at their clothes as they hitched up.
The guys in the camera crew were beside themselves.

Of course, you just can't wear a dress without the weave to match. There was pink hair, green hair, yellow hair (no, not blonde, yellow) and one cutting edge chick in lace-up white boots had what looked like rainbow-coloured bird feathers on her head. After a while I felt kinda drab.

As the night progressed, we remarked on how surprisingly incident-free this event seemed to be going. Well somebody must have jinxed it, because not long after that the sea of people that filled the Gym burst into a stampede in all directions!
The reasonably large stage, upon which I was liming, was rocked by the sudden force of people being pushed against it! As people started bounding on to the stage, I tried not to panic. I stayed put for as long as I dared, then I dodged my way down to where a couple crew members were trying to protect the camera equiptment from the stumbling crowd. Women snatched off their heels in order to run unhindered, big hardback men scampered like spooked cattle, and a few people were pushed to the ground (bet they wish they wore pants under those dresses now!).
I won't lie, that was some scary ish, but I felt better when a camera man exclaimed afterwards "You...my hands cyan stop shaking!"

Special props go to Peter Ram, who would easily win the award for "Mr. Calm, Cool and Collected 2005". Brotha man, in his sharp-ass brown pinstripe suit, maintained his position before, during and after the commotion: chilling against a wall. I don't even think his drink was spilled. That alone could earn him at least a nomination for the next James Bond movie.

Up to now I'm not sure what set off all those people. Some say they heard a gunshot, but I don't recall hearing anything like that.

All I know is that it wasn't a gunshot that scared me, it was that panic seems to turn a crowd into mindless, stampeding wildebeest.

To all the ladies:

If you hear of any upcoming rugby tournaments, make SURE you check it out! Eye candy fuh days. I promise your neck will be sore from swinging your head to and fro checking out all the prime pieces of...I mean the handsome young men.
Good lord.

C.O.T.

I saw the Private in his fatigues for the first time this weekend. Took my breath away. Wow.

C.O.T.

I realise that so-called "ghetto people" look down on so-called "bougie people" JUST as much as "bougie people" are said to look down on "ghetto people".

I remember a former BCC classmate of mine constantly made snide comments about how I dressed/talked/spent my free time, etc.
"Yeah, I like bbq'd pigtails, but you wun know nuttin 'bout dat, right Daana?" or "Your shoes look so...white!" (as in a style preferred by caucasions).

It would always piss me off and I couldn't help but raise an eye-brow and ask "And what is THAT s'posed to mean??" She'd always just roll her eyes and say "Oh nothing."

So what if I sound wrong speaking deep Bajan dialect (e.g. You, ya igrunt hard-foot boar-hog! Gimmuh piece-uh da pigtail dey! At least I can type it)?
So what if I don't have any close friends that live in de Pine?
So what if I've never been inside Penthouse?

I'm still a human being and worthy of respect, dammit.

Last night I watched a small portion of a movie (I believe it was Joan of Ark) which upset me more than I can say.

A French village was being plundered by English soldiers/hordes, and 3 grimy-looking soldiers happened upon a nun in a house. One of the men cornered her against a wooden door (behind which hid her sister, young Joan)and tried to rape her but she was struggling too much. He then took his sword and impaled her through the stomache, pinning her to the door to get her to hold still. Then he violated her noisily while she was slowly dying with her eyes open. The other two soldiers just watched in amazement.

That scene has traumatised me. I can't seem to get it out of my head, and it brings tears to my eyes even now. I know that was just a movie but I've heard of similar things happening during the genocide attempt in Rwanda only a few years ago. Those poor people. This is why I can't seem to bring myself to watch Hotel Rwanda. I'd cry for days.

Why are human beings so cruel to each other? How can you do something like that to ANY living creature much less another person? There's so much ugliness in the world.

I wonder if the actors playing these roles are affected in any way by the horrible things they pretend to do.

This weather is unbelieveble. For two nights in a row while I was driving home I found myself wishing I had oars in the car, or maybe webbed feet. On me, not the car.

C.O.T.
Ok! Here's what's goin' on in my life!

I'm part of a little organisation/group of dancers that's going to compete in the "Champions of the Future" ballroom competion in Blackpool, England on January 7th 2006! That's right...I said Blackpool. We leave Dec. 31st 2005 and return Jan. 9th 2006

Pros:
I'll experience jolly ol' Engie for the first time.
We'll act as Bajan ambassadors on the British ballroom scene.
We'll raise our own standard of dance


Cons:
1. Caw leh, this trip is expensive as rass.
2. 8 days of frosty noses and heinies (my aura itself turns grey whenever I think about this :-( )
3. I'll be forced to spend that time with a couple people around whom I'd really rather not be (thank goodness the rest of 'em are cool).
4. I'll have to ring in the New Year on board a plane with the afore-mentioned people, far away from my homies (dammit! Now that I FINALLY have somebody to kiss at midnight, I won't frikkin' be here!)

If anyone can give me any helpful hints or tips (or money for that matter), I would be most appreciative!

C.O.T.

Private Ryan and I are officially a couple! I may have to dedicate a blog to him, but that'll come later. My head's STILL spinning!

This is not good.

For years I've been bragging, to anyone who'll listen, that I have no allergies of any kind. "I got a bashment shotta immune sytem" (except for the occasional head cold), I've said, with a smug look on my face, "Bad gal nah 'frighten fa dust!"

But for the last couple of months I've been suffering from what I've finally accepted to be an allergic reaction!
Itchy red blotches that appear randomly on my body, then fade after about half an hour.
My mother's convinced that it's caused by dairy. I don't believe God would ever be so cruel as to smite me with an allergic reaction to dairy. I don't even wanna THINK about it. I LOVE dairy. Yogurt, cheese, icecream...bring it on cuz I'm down with it.

However, before I haul my ass to a doctor, I DID agree to try to give up the dairy for a week to see if it'd help.
The longest I managed was about 3 days, then I gave in and had some cheddar in a sandwich.
I resumed my dairy abstinance after that...but then this morning I had a BIG glass of 2% milk, and so help me, it was gooooooooood.

I just couldn't let it spoil, so I finished the carton. As I type this my palms are itching.

No more dairy starting.....right now!

This is...unexpected. Private Ryan seems to be doing everything right...or to be more accurate, not doing anything wrong. I usually blog about all the odd or unpleasant experiences with potential romantic interests, but this time it's different.

Wow...this is almost scary. (Very much in-keeping with the Halloween theme if you're into that sorta thing. Hahaha).

I almost don't know how to react since it's been so long. It may be time to unearth the romantic buried so deep inside me.

This is so very very unusual for me. I feel like Alice about to go down a rabbit hole.

Time to take a deep breath and see where this goes.

Geez, it's been a while. My thoughts are all over the place, so my blog may reflect this somewhat!


Right now I'm in zombie-mode, pretty much just going through my everyday routine because I'm too tired to resist or change. Shooting tv shows in the middle of the night is taking a toll on me.

C.O.T.

It seems I've caught the eye of a young soldier boy. I'll refer to him from now on as Private Ryan. Haha, this should be good. I wonder how long it'll be before I can tell him to drop and gimme 20! *rubs hands and laughs evilly*
I'll admit, he DOES demonstrate some odd behaviour occasionally, but then again...who doesn't?
He actually bit my nails the other night, which, as one can imagine, caught me totally offguard (I thought that biting OTHER people's nails was only something you do after the third date at least!).

I snatched my hand away, and looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Did you just bite my nails?"
"Yeah," he replied matter-of-factly "you have nice nails."

I realise that I have this tendency to try to be polite and not freak out when someone does something a little...off.

Right, so there'll be very little hand-holding in the near future for the Private.

C.O.T.

Well, our rumba routine made it through to the NIFCA finals, but not our samba. While I'm not exactly surprised, I AM a little disappointed. The samba is so much more lively and fun. Plus in the samba, I don't have the pressure of pretending I'm in love with someone who won't even help me up after he accidentally drops me on my back during a lift that went wrong. :-S

My partner and I placed 2nd in the advanced classics, and we won the advanced Latin category. However I must point out that there were only two couples competing in each! Oh well! It’s over now, and for that I feel relief. Next up: NIFCA semi-finals with the samba, and that blasted rumba.

A couple of things had me feeling somewhat off-centre at the end of the evening:

1.) When I’m going to compete or perform, I make sure I bring every thing I’ll need: makeup, water, safety pins, paper towels, scissors, stockings etc.

Why is it that SO many other-wise sensible girls and women come to perform COMPLETELY unprepared??
Are they children, or capable adults???
This one wants to borrow my red lipstick, the other wants my safety pins, and yet another has NO idea how to put on any sort of makeup, and pleads with me to do hers when I'm s'posed to be getting ready myself! They don't walk with hairgel, they're USELESS with eyeshadow, and they all want to use MY stuff!! I call them the Dressing Room Leeches! Why, you'd think they'd never done this before!

And 2.) There is something to be said for winning graciously. The attitude of one female competitor (and also a friend of mine) left a bitter taste in my mouth.

She practised SO hard for weeks before the competition with her main goal being to beat out another specific entrant against whom she has a personal vendetta (I didn't agree with her incentive, but whatever gets her going, I s'pose).
Her costume was hot, and she looked great on the floor.
She and her partner won their category...but afterwards all she could do was bitch about the crappy prize with which she was awarded in addition to her trophy!
I couldn't believe it. She frikkin' WON, and instead of basking in her glory for at LEAST that night, she demonstrated the most ungracious attitude I have ever seen, ESPECIALLY in a first time competitor!
She was acting like a prima donna, and I was completely turned off.

I'm the first one to admit that the prizes ARE indeed crappy for this competition, but it IS a new event, and it's a work in progress.


This is the same girl who often remarks with disdain about my mostly cheerful demeanor...as if it's something to be looked down upon.

Actually, it's surprising how often a negative response is given to a sunny attitude.

What the hell IS it about general positivity that makes people so uncomfortable?

Well, my partner and I are being coerced into dancing in the classics category for the competition tomorrow, after he had finally seen things my way and agreed that we wouldn't enter. The latin we can handle, no problem...but we just don't seem to be able to gel for the tango, quickstep etc. The anxiety is starting to seep in.

Great, now I gotta look for a decent dress...oh yeah, AND I have to glue sequins on my latin costume which was only finished half an hour ago. I hope my hair goes a pretty silver from this stress, instead of boring old grey.

Anyhow, it's
The IDTA Regional Dance Classics 2005
(my first competition for the year)
Sat. Oct. 15th
The Sir Garfield Sobers Gym
5pm (but the adults categories won't be on until a lil later...maybe 6:30)
$40

Come one, come all! And ladies, the Plaited Macker is competing too! Step right up!

My Interpretation of “Air on a G String” by Johann Sebastian Bach.

Contrary its sporty sounding title (how could the composer have possibly known?), the composition itself communicates a sadness to me.

When I listen to it, I get mental video stream of a person (the protagonist’s role in my vision isn’t gender-specific) wandering aimlessly through a darkened woodland area, and happening upon a clearing of some sort. S/he stops to rest on a rock…or maybe at the base of a tree… and starts to reflect upon a lost love.

The piece imparts a particularly deep and hopeless sense of mourning to me, so I’m picturing that maybe the loved one had died before s/he had made his/her feelings known. I picture this person putting his/her face in his/her hands and, finally being able to let his/her guard down in the privacy of the lonely woods, quietly allowing the mask to crumble, and the tears to flow freely. I’m getting that this person is enveloped by a profound and almost debilitating feeling of heartbreak, yet is trying to suppress it somehow.

It really is a beautiful piece. Quite moving.

Well! It looks like I may have caused trouble, for a certain off-limits man, with his girlfriend! That'll serve him right for not telling me upfront that he was "taken".

I sent him a birthday txt message the other night in which I referred to to him by a risqué term of endearment. What I got in return was the mysterious response: “I will make sure he has a very happy one”,and I haven’t received a txt msg from him since!

Wow, I wonder if she confiscated his phone...Ha! I have to admit,I feel quite…wicked and somewhat proud of myself! Of course, I have nothing against this girl, but I gotta say, I don't mind flirting with her man occasionally. I guess that officially makes me a bad person. Hold on, could this be...my elusive Part B???

A friend of mine has a totally unique perspective on this thing: he says for all one knows, that “taken” person could be the greatest love of your life, so you should always give it a shot. While that philosophy is wickedly appealing, it just seems to be an excuse to do as one pleases with no regard for the feelings of others. And if we all did that, I’m sure the murder rate around here would sky-rocket.

I could never go after someone else's man; afterall, it just isn't polite.
Why, if I wanted a cookie, I wouldn't rudely snatch one from a perfect stranger while she was eating it, I'd go get my own, for Emily's sake!

Etiquette is everything.

What am I gonna do with this guy? Is he crazy?

He KNOWS these classics routines are giving me hell and that the competition is in less than two weeks. I suggested that maybe if I can't grasp 'em before that time, that we do more basic routines.
His response was a defiant "I don't do basics. We're dancing it. We'll muddle through it if we have to."

Me: But see, you're not the one having trouble with the routine. You'll be gliding around and I'll be the one messing up and looking horrible on the floor.
Him: Yup, that's your problem.
Me: *expression of disbelief* And you're perfectly ok with that idea...?
Him: Yup.

That was when I just turned my back and walked away. I couldn't even look at him, I was so angry.
Does the concept of a partnership mean nothing to him? Does he really believe he's dancing alone out there?

Maybe I should've stayed and talked it out with him, at least I could have salvaged the night's practice session...but right then I just wanted to get as far away from him as possible.

Sigh. I'll deal with it at tonight's practice, which incidentally, I've cancelled a date, to attend. Gotta make it worthwhile.

This blog is dedicated to my 3 cousins with whom I've recently been re-acquainted!

In years past I've heard total horror stories about them, but now that I've finally met 'em, I'm absolutely delighted to have such strapping and interesting young men in my family!

Derek is the eldest. He's a whizz at repairing wonky stereo sets, cracks the corniest jokes you've ever heard, and can talk the ear off a chicken, which as one can imagine, takes a helluva lotta talking. Don't let 'im get you in a corner.

Martin is the second boy...well, man since they're all over 30. He's 6'5", 200+ lbs, and he's got a booming voice that matches his stature perfectly! He's like a young, black, trash-talkin' Santa Clause.

And Stephen is the last. He's the black sheep of the family...he's the "cool" one. He's quiet, plays the guitar in a band, has earings and tatoos and rides a motorcyle.

The only thing I'm not so crazy about is that all three of 'em smoke.

Ah well, they're family...can't disown for that. I guess.


It's nice to have three big "brothers"! Here's to the boys!

Well, our performance at the NIFCA prelims sucked big-time. I have no doubt that it’s mostly because we didn’t practice as we should’ve.
Dammit, I REMINDED him more than once that we needed to go through the routines, but all he did was belittle my efforts, and tell me I was worrying too much! Hmph. I hope we don’t make it to the semis. That’d be one less thing for me to worry about.

The one judges’ comment that DID strike a nerve with me though, was that apparently they noticed the lack of connection between us. I knew exactly what they meant, but I had hoped I was hiding it well enough that it’d be unnoticeable. I guess not.
The truth is our connection is not a natural one at all. We both know we have nothing in common, and we never socialize outside of dance. How can we be expected to connect on the dance floor with nothing to base it on? Sometimes I feel trapped. I’m supposed to love this, but right now it feels like a chore.

One technique for showing the appropriate emotion for each dance is to draw on your own life. experiences e.g. if you’re not attracted to your dance partner, picture your S.O. during the performance.
Awright, so now I have a legitimate reason to trap myself a man: my dancing depends on it!

C.O.T.

Speaking of man-trapping, as I was rushing to get to the changing rooms before our try-out, who should I run into but the handsome young man whose contact info I was too shy to try to obtain a few weeks ago at the BoatYard.
I’m embarrassed to say that I lagged once again, this time being too rushed and frazzled to concentrate on romantic endeavors. Oh, but he DID lean in and give me a kiss on the cheek and a little hug. *dreamy sigh* He was there to pick up his sister (oh, he has siblings! I love a man with siblings!). Thank heavens he left before our awful show.

I'll definately get at least an email address next time I see 'im! For sure!

They will NEVER stop digging up the road along the south coast. NEVER.

Someone in authority obviously has reason to believe there's buried treasure around here and they won't stop until they find it!
That's the only explanation I can come up with.

Maybe all Ch. Ch. residents should chip in about $5 each, put the money in an antique wooden box, and bury it somewhere under the road in Maxwell.
Maybe when the treasure hunters find it, they'll be happy and finally stop with all this infernal digging!

This's what it has come to: paying off the government, to STOP the roadworks.

C.O.T.

My Dad called me a prude! ME!! When HE's the one who squirmed in his chair during "Girlfriends" the other night, when the theme of the episode was, for all we could tell "How We Like Our Sex". He usually chuckles at the punchlines, but he suddenly turned silent as the grave when the "s" word was first uttered.
If I hadn't been so darn uncomfortable myself, I woulda laughed at him.

Joan got busy with her new man for the first time and apparently he sucked (figuratively, not literally) so she was talkin' it over with the girls.
Maya demonstrated how she likes her man to whisper her name; Lyn only had one man that was no good years ago, but now wants to give 'im another go a it; and....I can't remember what Toni's contribution to the whole discussion was.
Oh, how I love girl talk.

But back to this prude thing though, why would a father think it's a bad thing for his daughter to be a prude??? Not that I am one, but I thought that would be a father's dream! Dang... it's a serious situation if one's own FATHER thinks one is too conservative.


I may need to rectify this. Off to find a complete stranger to make out with. Again.

I have an announcement to make: I seem to have my first self-declared blogsite fan!
A tall, debonaire young dude too, not bad!


One the one hand, I AM kinda flattered ( blushing and grinning like a sheep is SO embarrassing)....but on the other, I suspect he may have been drinking.

Wait, he's probably reading this.

I hope he realises that now I'm going to be quite self-concious, and his attention may affect my blogging whether I want it too or not!!!

Actually, the same thing happens when I'm dancing in a party. If everybody's boogieing on down and I'm blending in with the crowd, I feel free to really get jiggy with it....BUT, the moment I notice some dude over by the bar is doing nasty things to me with his eyes, I lose focus on the beat for just a moment. I wonder if my bra strap is showing. I hope my butt doesn't look too wierd. I discreetly make sure my fly is up. It becomes more of a performance instead of just me, "grooving in de fete".

I don't mind 'em looking...just that I'd rather have the illusion that they're not! Less pressure and more booty-shakin' that way!


Heheh, this blog was dedicated to my surprise blogsite fan: K.B. (not sure if he wants his name plastered on here! *Hint: He family to Shelly!)
I'll think about the book suggestion!

Wow...it feels like I've officially been left behind.

All my friends have scattered: Reshma's in Indonesia, Norman's in Atlanta, Sophie's in England, Tasha's in Japan, and now Lani's in Trinidad.
It's just me now. I can't help but feel like I'm stagnating here.
Seems like every fella I develop an interest in doesn't live here either.

Is all of this some kind of sign? Am I s'posed to take a trip outa here? What if I LIKE it here? Would that be so bad?

Man.

There are cave people walking among us.

I STILL say that good manners and the ability to communicate effectively, are what separates us from the animals. Well...that, and the fact that we don't sniff each others butts (as frequently).

Don't people realise that how one speaks and addresses others will influence how one is perceived??
I can't STAND when school children come into the shop and ask "Hammuch fuh dah dey?" with nary a "good evening" nor an "excuse me".
Even if their parents are cave people too, shouldn't they at least be learning the ways of civilisation in school?

Speaking of unusual behaviour, an old white dude with a cane, came in yesterday lookin' for a sympathy card. He caught sight of the jewellery in the counter and as he made his way over, he cheerfully exclaimed "Lemme look at dis bling bling over here!"

My my...urban vernacular sure does transcend boundaries of all kinds!

Went to Boatyard for the first time on a Friday. Well...a Frinight, anyway.

One difference, to the Saturnights or the Wednesnights that I've been to before, is that the crowd is a couple years older...and that ALL the men check you out. No matter what you look like, ALL the women get a lingering head-to-toe full-service checking out. It's a little un-nerving at first, but it does kinda do something for your ego. I think I may go back next Friday!

Once again I was reminded of something I don't like about myself: I am a big fat LAGGER!
Aw man! I am KICKING myself all now! Why didn't I ask for the digits...an email address...SOMETHING!! Why didn't I offer to teach him some moves after he told me I inspired him to learn to dance?? Apparently he was flirting with me, and I just didn't pick it up.
Where the hell is my inner femme fatale, dammit? Where is my rass Part B???

Lani's right. I need a slap.

It's a dark and quiet Thursday night here in Ealing Park. And hot too. I'm feeling quite restricted in these long jeans...hold up...I've GOT to change.
Ahhh, much better. I love sarongs. They're so versatile.

I've got the comp all to myself for the night. And I'm wondering what kinda net escapades I can get into.

Damn...the guy, with whom I was engaging in a little flirtatious repartée, has to leave.

Oh...but now here's that odd dude whom I just added from hi5. He seems like a jerk from his profile. I dunno why I added 'im.

My sweet tooth is aching right about now. I could do with some cookies n cream ice cream. Just as well that there's none around, I guess.

Hmm, this guy speaks spanish too. Interesting.

Good grief, the PussyCat Dolls just look like a bunch of supermodels.

Awright, this guy isn't so much of a jerk so far. Actually, his online manner is quite pleasant. Funny how first impressions can be.


*Listening to Khia's "My neck, my back" and sipping an ice-cold Smirnoff Ice*

This could get good. Woo, this stuff goes right to my head.

I can't believe Lani doesn't think Sean-Paul's hot in his new video. Why am I friends with her again? Oh yeah, cuz she bakes alot. Heehee. Just kidding Lani.

Man...I'm still hot.

I recently commented to my dance partner that we need to increase our practice sessions, but after last night, I'm just...not sure. I "hol' BARE blows" so to speak.

During a turn in the jive, he whacked the back of my head with his forearm. Now, my partner is by no means, a slight fellow; his arm is quite solid and the impact made my brain jiggle inside my skull. Had I not blinked at the same time, I'm sure at least one eyeball would've been knocked loose.

During the samba , and I won't point fingers here, but somebody managed to kick me in the already sore bunion, causing me to hobble away in search of a seat and swear in a most unlady-like manner.

During the rumba my body was stretched in ways it's not yet accustomed to. That sexy "love hurts" facial expression that goes with the rumba really comes out in that particular move...only it ain't the love that's hurtin'.

I have cherry-like bruise on my knee where I banged it on the floor doing a "walking split" in the paso doble.

My body is pained and drained, used and bruised, achy and shakey...and I can only expect more of the same tonight.

Three words....bring it on.

I think I broke my ass a little at practice this evening. Boy, do I need a massage.

It's just one-a those Mondays.

A no-smile kinda day...

A day where you nearly buss ya ass tripping over the shoes that YOU left in the middle of the hallway, so you have no-one to blame but yourself.

A day in which you are screamed at for accidentally eating half of someone else's pop tart, even when you replace it with half of your own.

A day where an important cd mysteriously explodes inside your cd-rom disk drive in the office. No wait...that was Thursday.

Anyhow...here's to Tuesday.

Awright, here's the deal.

The majority of my buddies at my dance studio are goin' on a 10 day group trip, of which the highlight is a 7-day cruise! Those lucky buggers.

I'm under pressure now to have a ludicrous amount of fun while they're gone, so as to compensate for my inability to join them! Man, I just KNOW the stories they'll bring back will be absolute torture for me, so I need some experiences of my own to be able to remember with a smirk.

My fun must begin from tomorrow night at the very latest. Suggestions are welcome and indeed requested.

Had a date last night ...and it was less than thrilling to say the least.

Guys, if you've always wanted to treat your date like a piece of meat but never knew how, pay attention to the following tips:

7 Surefire Ways To Make Your Date Feel Like A Ho

1.) Ignore her dating suggestions and instead suggest going to the drive-in when a cheesy double feature is showing. Yeah, it'll be obvious what you really wanna do.

2.) Make no attempt at conversation except to answer her get-2-know-u questions as briefly as possible.

3.) Cut your date off when she's talking to make it clear that you aren't interested in anything that comes out of her mouth.

4.) Constantly attempt to make out with your date while she's trying to actually watch the movies.

5.) After the movies are over, ignore the yawns of your obviously tired date, and suggest that the two of you make a well-known park-out spot, your next stop.

6.) After she drops you home, call out to her "Next time you should really come inside." as she's hurriedly exiting your driveway. This'll really bring the message home to her about your plans.

7.) Make sure to follow these steps on the first date, otherwise the "date-cheapening" effect may be lessened.


I'm quite disappoined and disgusted.

My aunt took a trip and left her car at our house with a full tank of gas.
Mwah-ha-ha-ha-haaaaaaa!

Now I'm not one to freak over big rides or anything, but despite my otherwise sensible nature, I DO admit that I feel quite fussy cruisin' around in a BMW, or a "bumwuh" as I affectionately call it.
The doors are heavy and gives one the feeling that one is opening the hatch of a space shuttle. Sweeeeet.

The only minor hitch was is that all the controls are switched over to the opposite side of what I'm used to. So whenever I attempt to flash my lights at an oncoming vehicle to allow them to turn in front of me, I end up squirting the windshield instead.
I will miss this.

C.O.T.

You know Kadooment day has finally left your system when you can pass a big bottle of glitter and not get the urge to sprinkle some on.
I'm still fighting it.

The Baje Thank U fete was jumpin' last night! What Harbour Lights what.

Now as much as I had a great time and all, there is STILL a couple of things to report that just ain't right.

1.) Skanks keep stealing my men.
It happened twice last night. A fella would come and chat me up, but then, out of the corner of his eye, he'd catch a glimpse of said skanks holding up their already meager skirts and flashing partygoers with their sequined panties, and he'd just drift off in mid-sentence, walking over to them as if in a trance.

Now, I can't blame a moth for being attracted to a flame, but geez, would you believe that after the hypnotique spell of the Glitter Pooch Show had faded, the fellas had the gall to come back over to me and ask for my digits? Riiiiight. As if I hadn't seen 'em turn into mindless hyenas, drooling with unbridled lust at the first (second and third)glimpse of ass cheek.
Show a little discretion, good god.

And 2.) As I was leaving, some idiot girl burned a patch of skin off my wrist with her rasshole cigarette! She shouldn't even be smoking in the first place! Had the pain not distracted me so much, I would've had the presence of mind to at least smack the offensive thing out of her hand and stomp it out, if not smack her upside her idiot head! The anger only kicked in on the drive home.

You know what is burning off a patch of skin with a cigarette??? That shit hurts!!

I'm trying to be understanding, and calm...but I'm really starting to dislike smokers. The more you think about it, they really are inconsiderate bastards. They pollute OTHER PEOPLE's air!
Can't wait for this ignorance to be banned.

Well, I'm feelin' good, feelin' great today and I have no idea why. I mean, there's no such thing as an LSD Fairy, is there?

Come to think of it, I may just have an idea why I'm so perky today: my horoscope was pretty encouraging yesterday, and while I don't really believe in horoscopes, the power of suggestion is a helluva thing.

C.O.T.

Just some random things that I've recently developed/renewed an appreciation for:

*Tans. Ever notice how the darker one's skin, the whiter one's teeth look!
*Peanut Punch smoothies from the Shake Shak in Julia's Nutrition Centre. Feels like a sin to drink the whole thing without sharing at least one sip with another human being.
*Clean, dry socks.
*Trees. Nothin' like a big tree on a blistering Kadooment day. Not only can you wukkup on it, but it gives you blessed, cooling shade as a bonus.

And so another Kadooment Day has passed. Well, almost...it's not Tuesday yet, but I'm so hurt right now, it's ridiculous.
A combination of sleep deprivation, and the onset of a head cold has me down for the count. Unfortuanately it's too hot to sleep and so, I blog.

The Jump Up (in point form)
* They messed up our music, so our stadium performance was somewhat off.
* I lost my shades
* I found $60 (I wanted to return it, but how do you find the "owner" among thousands?)
* The sun was blistering. Not a drop of rain.
* I wukked, jukked, wined, grined (grinded? ground?), "rolled" and had a general ball.
* Reached Spring Garden, ate, then hauled my sick rear home.



Confession: I am currently quite infatuated with one of our stilt walkers. I swear sometimes my unpredictable taste in men surprises even myself. I don't usually go for broomstick men with gold teeth, but somehow this one has turned my head.
Maybe it's because he's got a nicely-shaped head.
Maybe it's the novelty of us having the same first name.
Or maybe it's his impressive fire-eating skills....I mean, if he eats fire who knows what else he eats (*wink wink* oh, I'm horrible)!

Yes, it's been a while.

Even though it's nearly the peak of the Crop Over season, I find myself with a strange case of writer's block. Right now I should be all hype and and into the swing of things, but instead I'm feeling very quiet.

It's like all this activity and Crop Over chaos is just a temporary distraction to how empty I feel inside. When it's all over, I may have to do some serious soul-searching.

C.O.T.

The Plaited Macker is trying to hook me up with a friend of his. I hate being set-up. It's so much pressure. I'm trying to be relaxed and go with the flow, but you know how it is when you can sense the nervousness in the other person.

I don't think this is going to work out.

Well...they've done it. CBC has officially switched to a digital signal, hence plunging thousands of Multichoice pirates into the cold abyss that is Channel 8.

Since this travesty, I've noticed that the members of this household have been loitering around my father's sea-water aquarium and gazing at the marine life, with blank expressions. Someone has even pulled up an armchair for a more relaxed viewing experience.

C.O.T.

Well, I met the lovely fiancé of my boyishly handsome water-fight partner the other night. Aaaaargh, doesn't that JUST figure! Not only is she a stone fox, but she's a cool chick who knows how to shake her booty, which earns her nuff respect in my book.
Don't ya hate when they make it hard for ya to hate 'em?
Hmm, I wonder if she's cool enuff to let me borrow her dude for a minute? I'll bet she'd respect it if I asked first.
(I'm just kidding!)


C.O.T.

I HAD a date scheduled for last night, but brother man had to cancel since he had errands to run before his flight out today (At least he swung by to say bye). It seems like I'm only into fellas who're unavailable. Is my subconcious trying to tell me something? Recently the words "aloof" and "stone" have been used to describe me, and I have mixed feelings about this.

Riddle:

How does one elude a big, scary personal trainer, hell-bent on running one ragged (in more ways than one! Yipe!)?
I feel like a striped cat, running from a highly intense Pepe Le Pew.

C.O.T.

If I was one of the casualties of a bomb blast *makes the sign of the cross* I'm not so sure I would really appreciate the "moment of silence" that is so commonly offered in their honour. Maybe this is just another one of those things that's more to comfort the living mourners.
Me, I'd prefer a "moment of flattery"!

Joss Stone is fairly underrated. I LOVE her soulful singing style, and her "flower child" wardrobe. And she's so cute too!

This weekend was absolutely scrambubbly! Yes, I have taken to making up words also.
Baje on Friday night (well, Saturday morning) was fabulous. Of course, that had much to do with the company one keeps. Here's to making new friends!
And here's to playful yet sexually-charged water fights with said new friends. *wink*

There's no better time to be single than Crop Over!

I finally got to watch the The Bourne Identity in it's entirety.
The 1st time I tried to watch was with some dude at a late night showing in the Olympus. I had absolutely no interest in seeing the movie, and was fighting off sleep the whole time.

May I just say that Matt Damon is quite a hottie in this role. I like Jason Bourne's reaction when Marie gave him a little peck after he just finished chopping off all her hair...as if he didn't know how to take it. So cute.
I tellya, no black woman is gonna get turned on after a man massecres her tresses like he did.

C.O.T.

The Island Fitness Pageant (at which my partner and I performed) was last night, and now THAT is inspiring! Those girls worked so hard, and they now have the physiques to show for it.
The show's motto is "A body to die for, through training to die from." And they ain't kidding.
One girl commented that she frequently gets the urge to walk about nekkid now.
I guess that's what toned thighs, a washboard stomach and a ripped upper body will do for your confidence!
You go girls!

Well...earlier this week I had an interesting episode which demonstrated how one's attitude can change an experience.

My dance partner introduced me to another dance lift and I'm ashamed to say, it freaked me out just a little at the time.
I was quite disappointed in my own lack of professionalism.
I'm over it now.

Description of the lift:
Girl runs up to Guy and jumps straight up while Guy hoists her into the air with his hands around her waist, then catches her by wrapping his arms around her hip area. Girl's tummy is now directly in line with Guy's face, then Girl slides slowly down the front of his body, until Girl's feet regain contact with the floor.

Now...in this move, Bettina and Ichiko are passing awfully close to, and maybe even brushing against *cringe*, this dude's face.
When he explained the move to me, I gasped and sputtered, and was NOT too pleased about it.
I threatened to slap the black off him if I should detect even the slightest hint that he may be enjoying himself too much.

"I know you don't wanna put your boobs in my face, but don't think about it, just put 'em in my face." he said.
Is this guy for real?
"If it's any consolation ," he offered cheerfully "I don't find you attractive in the least."

That's my partner, ladies and gentlemen. Such a charmer.

My Crop Over season is off to a rollicking good start.

The Baje Launch fete was pretty groovy, even though the whole place smelled kinda wierd (what's up with that). I LOVED the performance by the Indian dancing girls, in keeping with the Karma theme!

The Heineken Full Moon party was absolutly kickin'! Nice informal beachy kinda feel...lovely! The old dub sesh was grindy and I got down appropriately.

Here's to more of the same!

C.O.T.

What the heck is wrong with shopping in Broad Street Mall??

Geez, some people are such bougie snobs.

I don't know why, but this scenario was knockin' around in my mind just now.
Please, no-one call the police, this is yet another fictional blog.



She started to cry...slowly a tear rolled down her cheek.

"Why are you crying Nao?" he asked gently? "Are you afraid of what's goin' to happen now?" as he stroked her hair, holding her head to his chest.

"Yes" she whispered hopelessly. The feel of his calloused fingers on her skin made her want to throw-up but her bound body made it impossible to recoil from him.

"Don't be scared...I don't want you to be scared...you'll feel better when it's all over...you know I have to do this." Still stroking her hair.

She swung her head from side to side, as far as his sour embrace would allow.
"You don't have to do this...you could let me go....just let me go....you don't have to..." she pleaded weakly.

"Yes I DO!!" he roared and yanked her head back by her hair. She didn't have the strength to scream out in pain.

Her body went limp as she realised that it was over. She was alone, in the hands of a mad man. She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at the sharp, sinister tools hanging on the wall, and she tried to push her spirit from her body before the real pain began.

Being stuck in snail-pace traffic is a great opportunity to make anthropological observations.
Here are the top 5 activities carried out by motorists while driving:

5.) Eating
4.) Drinking
3.) Singing
2.) Nose-picking
1.) Cell-phone chatting

I still can't believe I pass so many people picking their noses on the road.

Pride is a helluva thing.

How far would you go to prove someone wrong? Would you deny your deepest desires, your natural urges...your very SELF, just so that that other person won't know that they're right?
Sometimes I think I need someone to sit me down and tell me it's okay to let go of my pride occasionally...stop with the crazy stubbornness and just give in...just give up.

Today's lesson is "If at first you don't succeed, juk, juk again."

Tried my hand (or is it hips?) at the bar-top dancing competition at Jungles again last night, and came out victorious with the title of Queen of The Jungle and a $75 bar tab!
Yee-HA! Feelin' like a cowgirl!

And congrats to the lady in red (who, incidentally wasn't wearing a scrap of red...that we could see anyway, haha) who won the blowjob competition! Woo....scandelous!

And I introduced 2 eager young martial artists to the joys of bodyshots (not with me, with each other. I know what y'all were thinking)!

It was a good night.

Govan, ya stood up de girls, and missed all THAT action! Whassup with that, mang?
*shakes head.

Went to check out Mr. & Mrs. Smith last night, and I just want to go on record as saying that Brad and Angelina are TOTALLY believable as a couple on-screen.
They had MAD chemistry!
The two of 'em were just so....hot!

I caught myself mumbling "Get in dey, Angelina!" quite frequently during this movie.

I couldn't take my eyes off 'em in the love scene. It almost hurt to blink.

Woo.

Today's Topic for Debate:

The most appropriate way to proceed when one catches a mouse in one of those glue traps.

I say the best thing to do is get a machete and severe the rodent's head as quickly as possible to ease it's suffering.
My Mum prefers to pour boiling water on it until it stop wriggling. How ghastly. I can't believe that's my mother. When I pointed out how inhumane that method was, she suggested stabbing it with a toothpick instead
It's amazing that I've managed to grow into a stable adult.

I've realised that it's more common than I thought for people to just leave the poor mouse stuck in the glue trap for days to starve to death.
How is that humane???

It's a sign of the times when the phrase "sexual intercourse" has been extended to mean both:

1.Coitus between humans. and,
2.Sexual union between humans involving genital contact other than vaginal penetration by the penis. (Dictionary.com)

What about the AskOxford.com definition...

• noun: sexual contact between individuals involving penetration, especially the insertion of a man’s erect penis into a woman’s vagina culminating in orgasm and the ejaculation of semen.

The sections in italics are just so vague, why, a whole HOST of activities now come under the heading of sexual intercourse by these definitions!

Gone are the days when sex simply meant that somebody's penis was inside somebody else's vagina.


Just wait 'til I become Queen of The World. Revising the dictionary will definately be on my To Do list.

I've heard it time and time again, but now it's my turn to say it!

Kids these days have NO manners!

Imagine my surprise when my pleasant mango-picking afternoon in my Grandfather's backyard was interrupted by hushed young voices, followed by a *WHUMP* as one little rascal landed on the grass after jumping down from OUR wall!

"Excuse me!" I said, and he froze. Obviously he and his cronies were after the mangoes. I couldn't fault them for that of course, but I let them know that in the future they need to come to the door and ask permission like respectable young boys, instead of scrambling over the wall like thieves.

And after all that, they didn't apologise for their intrusion, they didn't say "Thank you!" for the mangoes, they didn't even say "Good afternoon" for heaven's sakes! And they referred to me as "de woman" as if I wasn't standing right in their presence, eg. "Gih de woman some mangoes!" and "Man, de woman say I cuh pick some!"

Apalling. Is this how we're raising our children??? Manners go a loooong way.

C.O.T.

I don't care who calls me stiff or prudish. I do NOT consider "Y'know, you have nice bubbies" to be the charming compliment that the author swears it is.
Have a little respect.

Thank heavens my voice is nearly back to normal.
How it pained me to have to sit silently whenever the urge to burst into song bubbled up inside me.

C.O.T.

Mango season is back again!!! My very skin shall assume a fiery mango-esque glow as I feast on their sweet, succelent flesh...the juice dripping down my chin, as I lick it from my fingers, not daring to waste a drop; as hungry as she who has been yearning for a mango for so very, very long......ok, I'll stop now.

Guess what I'm eating tonight.


Forgive me. I received a book of erotic literature for my birthday, and I find that its influence is showing in unrelated parts of my life.

Good...lord...it's so hot right now, I can barely think straight.

This morning, I found myself waiting in the car while the driver nipped out to run an errand. Needless to say I was positively steaming.
It's a sad situation when you're agonising over whether to throw modesty out the window, and hike up your skirt to cool your thighs, or retain your businesslike appearance and boil yourself alive in your own sweat.

Waiting in a hot car is now officially my personal version of hell.

I have lost my voice and right now I'm barely able to speak above a croaky whisper. In the first stages it sounded kinda sexy, but now it's just scary. Answering the phone is out of the question because it will offset our cliets.
To be honest, given the mood I'm in, I'm kind of enjoying having an excuse not to speak. Makes you realise just how much of one's breath is wasted uttering nonsense.

C.O.T.


You know what...it MUST be me...I must be the one doin' something wrong here!
I really feel like hitting somebody's son in the head with a shoe! How is it that I seem to only be attracted to clueless men?
Another one bites the dust.
Back to the frustratingly familiar drawing board.

Everyone has that experience where one first encounters something , doesn't quite like it, but then after a while gets accustomed to it, and even starts to like it.
Well, I never thought that would apply to hugs.

I've recently been introduced to a certain type of hug, that has grown on me in BIG way.
(First person to guess who's behind this one, gets a stick of gum.)

I call it the "Me, man...you, woman!" Hug
It's a one-handed hug where the guy slides his hand around the girl's waist and pulls her body abruptly to his torso with a slight bump, knocking the breath out of her momentarily. It's kind of primal...like how Tarzan might hug Jane.

Try it today!

In my old age I've been doing quite a bit of reminiscing on the good ol' days at secondary school, and I recall with much fondness the "mandatory" P.E. periods.

I absolutely loved the opportunity to exchange my restrictive, uncomfortable uniform tunic, for the cute green shorts and white t-shirt that made up our P.E. uniform. And sneakers were always MILES ahead of regular school shoes in comfort.

It was always beyond me, why so many girls would almost refuse to participate in P.E. sessions, and would make up excuse after excuse to get out of it.

How could they NOT want to slip into something more comfortable, and work off all that extra teenage energy that tends to build up?

I was never much good at sports and athletics, but it was always hilarious to watch the even less physically-coordinated girls trip over the track hurdles, or duck an oncoming tennis ball! And I too, got kixed at.
My only regret was that for some reason you were discouraged from wearing your P.E. duds to regular class...something about it being distracting. Phooey, I say.

They just wanted to keep the kids hot and uncomfortable.

My Birthday Experience:

The whole day was neither here nor there by birthday standards, so by the time darkness fell, I KNEW I had to take matters into my own hands!

I called up the Lanster, and we agreed to meet at Cafe Jungles, for "Coyote Ugly Saturdays".

I strolled into the joint only to be greeted by the bar dancers doin' a hot choreography on and around the bar.
"Wow" I thought "this is my kinda place!" Just then, the MC announced that they needed people to compete in a bar-top dancing competition for a $50 bar tab. I wasn't gonna go up, I swear, but then a bar dancer grabbed my arm and pulled me along.
So there I was, dancing on the bar within 5 minutes of walking in the door. That's gotta be a record.
Unfortunately I didn't win the bar tab, but I'm sure the only reason that guy beat me was becuase he wukked up on the fake tree in the corner of the bar.
I don't use props.

At one point, about 6 guys were up there, shakin' it for the ladies, and you KNOW that made my birthday!

And to end the night on a good note, I got hit on by a British flight attendant named Alex. I didn't even see it coming cuz the first thing he said to me was "I like your swing...can I try it?"...which wouldn't have made sense if I wasn't sitting in the Cafe Jungle swing chair. Believe it or not, for about 5 seconds, I actually thought he was trying to steal my seat. Then I realised he was more interested in my OTHER "seat". *wink*

Slight C.O.T.

I always feel like I'm being watched whenever I dance with white tourist guys. Like if people are shaking their heads and thinking "wha de ass she doin' dancing up on he fuh?"
Maybe I'm imagining things...maybe I'm projecting, since that may be what's in my own subconcious when I see other black Bajan girls doing it.

Not good.

No complaints about the new partner yet. He's way stronger than he looks; gotta give props where props are due. Even though we squabble like cats and dogs from time to time, we can still be cool afterwards.
The other day someone asked how the partnership is going and he announced to the whole room that "She never agrees with anything I say!"

Before I realised what I was saying, I blurted out "That's not true!!!" I clapped my hand over my mouth as soon as it came out, but it was too late, I was nearly killed with the cackles that ensued.

Could it be that I AM disagreeable? Do I sometimes argue JUST for the sake of arguing? I'll look into this.



C.O.T.

Saturday's my 25th birthday and I have no clue how I'm gonna celebrate. I don't even know if I'll have the time.
Hmm...I wonder if I can con The Plaited Macker into giving me a big ol' birthday smooch...he's a devout Christian so I dunno if he'll fall for any of my "heathen-temptress" charms.
Mwah-ha-ha-ha-haaaa! I kill me!

To be continued...

The other day, I saw the security guard in a mall stomp on a defenceless lizard and kick it outside while it was still alive and wriggling in agony. It shocked me to see such cruelty towards such a harmless creature. The poor thing was just lost and hungry, I'm sure.

C.O.T.

I've made another observation on the differences between the sexes. I've noticed that men and women will go out to a party, and somehow the men seem more prone to strike up a heated, and even aggressive, discussion on serious topics like religion, politics,or business...in de middle of the fete!!

Now, I'm not crying down the guys for this, because I figure, hell, they must enjoy this...all that testosterone raging around HAS to have some kinda release, so I won't be TOO offended when they ignore us girls to go have their table-slamming, finger-pointing, "talks"...

What I DO have a problem with, is if someone were to tell me that I should be joining in on the discussion! I won't tell anybody how to enjoy themselves in a party, and I'd appreciate the same courtesy.

All de talk, de men were gettin' so riled up, I thought dat SOMEbody was gun get knocked ta fuggout! lol

My lord...The Plaited Macker has certainly proved that he can make me squirm, AND that he thoroughly enjoys it.

I ran into to him and another friend of mine in Sheraton yesterday by a gaming kiosk and, after the initial greetings, he proceeded to tell me (and everyone within earshot) all about his most intimate and sensual dance experience which, incidentally, was when I practiced the Swing straddle-dip move with him.

"When you mounted me, " he said "it's not just that we were so physically close, but it's that you were so wet! "

I absolutely screamed on the inside, and my eyes must have turned into saucers!
I can't believe he said that in front of my friend, the guy working at the kiosk, and whoever else was passing! And this guy doesn't say these things quietly!

The girl giggled and the kiosk guy smiled in amusement, but he just kept on going! My face started feeling really hot, and I couldn't stop shifting from foot to foot.

Apparently, he finds sweat sexy. I guess that's a good thing since I tend to perspire a lot when I exert myself.

Dammit, it's not what he said, it's where and when he said it that caught me completely offgaurd.
That's the last time I give him the satisfaction of seeing me become so visibly uncomfortable.

From now on, I'm a rock.

If anyone reading my blog takes offense to anything I may have written, or WILL write in the future, please, feel free to come directly to me for a discussion.

There's no need to tell tales out of school, start rumours, or send messages to me via third parties.

I can stand by every word I have written.

Do you belive in fate and that things aren't just random?
Is is possible that the universe, or maybe some higher power, brings certain people into your life for a reason?
I've gotta pay attention to these little signs...see where it leads me. It could be the start of a whole new adventure.

C.O.T.

It's funny how much more approachable one becomes when one is accompanied by a dog, at the beach! Members of both sexes will come up to you and smile and chat and pet your pooch (haha, I HAD to say that!) like they've been friends with you all their lives.
I gotta say, even though it opens the gate for a bunch of wierdos to step to you, I kinda like the friendliness that dogs induce.

I've been switched, and I have a different dance partner now! This could get confusing! I forsee us fighting like cats and dogs, yet still mashin' up de place!

C.O.T.

I...I think I'm now a tv show host! This is all happening so fast.

C.O.T.

What happened to my National Heroes Day? It's a crying shame when an organization
1.)doesn't pay you for a performance (which ain't that bad),
2.)takes over your whole holiday (which still ain't that bad), but then
3.)doesn't put out enuff fishcakes and cheese sandwiches for the performers to thank 'em or their time and effort.
I had one room-temperature, half-baked somosa.

Shame on them.

I have a small personal triumph to report:

Last night I called up the Plaited Macker and asked if he'd like to go get a Cafe Blue sandwich (those things are absolutely scrum-diddly-umptious) with me.

I know, it's not like I brought peace to the Middle East, but one step at a time, dammit.

Asking guys out is always nerve-wracking for me, and I was so proud of myself that I actually DID it, that it didn't bother me one bit that he couldn't come!

You go girl!

Suddenly, I feel like 15 yrs. old again.

I would like to take this opportunity to proclaim my newfound love for....
seamoss!

Yes, until two nights ago I thought it was a slimy, funny-looking "country"-type concoction. I mean, who in their right mind would wanna drink seamoss, I thought.

So then I happened upon a bottle of the stuff in our fridge. My Dad had bought it from "some man in a van". The thing wasn't labelled or anything. It could've contained LSD for all we know.
Anyway, I decided that here was the perfect opportunity to "try it before I knocked it". I was, after all, at home with readily available bathroom facilities, should the need to use them arise.

So I took a deep breath, and a medium-sized drag on the bottle. I tasted milk (hooray, I love dairy), sugar, cinnamon or some kinda spice, and if I'm not mistaken, some kinda alcohol. It was actualy quite yummy!

Unidentifiable brown particles and all!

Is this s'posed to be an aphrodesiac or something?

Highlight of My Week So Far

Last night at the beginner's class, the Plaited Macker insisted that I teach him that swing move where the lady jump/straddles the man, he bends over, her legs go up past his head, then he brings her up and lifts her off.

After a few times of him not understanding that he has to move with me, and hence getting hit in the face with Bettina (that's right, Bettina!), he seemed to kinda get the hang of it, and then lifted me friggin' well over his head!

I thought I was gonna taste floorboards at one point, and up to now I'm not sure if I screamed or held it in.

That experience merits 4 outa 5 "Yee-ha's"!

C.O.T.

I can't understand why anybody would want to drink vegetable juice.

This weekend I had a personal breakthrough.

In a group of people, I found myself the sole rebel who opposed to a certain idea. I voiced my opinion, and argued my points. Even though no one agreed with me, I stuck to my principles and I'm so proud of myself.

C.O.T.

I hate when older relatives keep asking me how my love life is, and every single time I say I'm not seeing anyone, they go "No? Oh dear.", and proceed to give me extensive details on my cousin's current romantic interest.
Sigh, from now on I'm just gonna say that I have no time for men.

C.O.T.

I don't see how one can just agree with every point-of-view, idea or plan that's put across to them. I mean, after a while, it starts to seem as if one has no opinions of their own. Once in a while it'd be nice to hear some opposition, a complaint, something to show that there's a passionate, human brain in there.

Yet another edition of Ms. Kukamunga's imaginary blog:

I can't believe it...I actually let Diego convince me to move in with him. I hope he understands that it's strictly a professional arrangement. I swear, if I had anywhere else to go, I'd be outa here in a flash, but this is one sweet rental deal I got goin' on here: only $200 a month, plus he pays for all the groceries!
The only catch is that I have to take care of ALL the grocery shopping. For some reason this guy can't stand supermarkets, minimarts, outdoor markets, or anything of the type. Thinks they're dirty or something.
Wierd.

It's just that he can be so darn persuasive, what with that mesmerizing Castillian accent and all.

I only hope he's not too loud when he entertains those trashy bimbos everyone's always telling me he hangs around with. He has to respect that this is MY home now too, dammit!

And another thing! He NEEDS to close the door when he's in the shower! Damn exhibitionist Spaniards!
Just because one works out, and does a little modelling doesn't mean one has to flash one's stuff around willy nilly like that! No pun intended.

Why, if I wasn't a decent, modest, young lady that player would have to give me a wide berth around this place, or his sculpted rear would be well-pinched!

Good gracious, he's absolutely shameless.

Well, the show's over! And despite a low audience turn-out, the dancers were great.
Of course we all made a couple mistakes, but generally it was a good 'do!
Even the young, poor-postured undercover flirt, represented last night!

C.O.T.
I had hoped to be able to go to the drive-in tonight to catch Hitch and Be Cool, but sadly, transP issues won't allow for that. Rats. And it's probably my only night off before they change the film scedule.
*melancholy expression, complete with downward cast eyes*

Well, the show is tonight.

The show that we've been busting our asses,* with midnight practice sessions every single night for the last two weeks.
* Almost literally for one girl in particular who gets tossed through the air by two strapping men into the ready arms of her short, yet deceptively strong partner.

The show which could really use another week to smooth out the many kinks.

The show which is the first of many fundraisers we'll be needing to be help us on our way to compete in Blackpool.

The dress rehearsal was last night, and my gosh, the whole thing seemed like one big hassle:

*Not enough time between many of the dance sets...
*The salsa costumes don't fit well...
*The line dance team shows NO enthusiasm...
*George Street Auditorium is a lawsuit waiting to happen...

But, the show MUST go on, and we'll go out there and mash up de place!!

I'm not liking the person I'm becoming.

In response to the negativity aimed in my direction, I've found myself reacting with the very same negative characteristics of which I disapprove, in others.
I need to nip this in the bud, and cleanse my aura.

C.O.T.

It's been a good couple weeks since my last set of crunches. I need to re-embrace my motto of "Kill the abs! Kill 'em!"

C.O.T.

I'm getting the sneaking suspicion (and of course, I could be wayyy off) that a 17 yr.old, supposedly quiet and shy, member of this dance troupe, is flirting with me! I'll keep my eyes open to be sure.

In the meantime, I'll refrain from brushing my hands across his chest and shoulders in an effort to correct his poor dance posture.

Y'know, sometimes kind words can make you cry just as well as cruel ones.

Yesterday at my ex-partner's farewell party I was trying not to acknowledge that I was fairly bummed. I was doin' a good job too, until an unlikely person came by the corner I had taken over, put a hand on my back and said "Don't worry Daana, a loss can also be an opportunity."
That little gesture moved me. Unfortunatly it also made me realise that, even though I'm still pissed at him, it still hurts that we're separating on a low note. Then the tears came. I don't think anybody noticed though. When I finally decided I needed to leave, I made my way over to him, through the usual cluster of ladies, gave him a quick hug and mumbled my goodbye and goodluck. When he said thanks, he looked me in the eye for the first time in about 2 months.

After that, I headed straight to the drive-in, hoping to catch Hitch and Be Cool; Lord knows I needed a laugh right then, but bust luck, it was sold out.

This week I'm gonna work on cheering the hell up.

This blog is dedicated to Jason Roditis and Tonia Kosovich,...

..in my opinion, one of the most outstanding couples in the dance show video Burn The Floor.

If you, as a woman, can watch a couple dance and end up wanting to BE the chick and to DO nasty things to the guy, then you know they put up one helluva performance.

Of course, I'm especially impressed with Jason. I admit, it could have something to do with the fact that he was the only one who performed bare-chested for most of the show, but that's not the whole thing.

My man can act.

Oh man, the expression on his face in the final sequence, after he was in a kneeling/leaning back position on the floor, and Tonia wukked up on the entire length of his outstretched arm (I will try that before I die) was priceless: he looked like the cat that ate the canary!
Then again...that probably didn't take much acting since Tonia's a hottie herself.

Dammit, he's got the moves, he's got the looks...he's even got the cowboy hat.

I think that earns him the esteemed title of Crush Of The Week.

Y'know what I hate?

I hate when I take an out-of-town friend/acquaintance out partying, and he acts like
it's a date (and pulls a sad puppy face when any other guy comes and dances with me) .

I hate when the guy says he will only enjoy dancing if he's dancing on me. I like dancing alone, dammit! I doan mind dancin' wid a man, but geez, not all the time so!

I hate when a guy looks me in the eyes and raps along to every other hip-hop tune that plays in the club, complete with gangsta hand movements( Awright guy, so you know all the words...hooray for you).

And now to give a little balance to this blog, here's what I liked about last night's experience: there was a certain dreadocked bartender who seemed to be having WAY more fun than any of the partyers! He was just exuding good vibes all over the place. That was cool.

Ever get the feeling that you're swimming in a pool full of sharks?

Last night my new dance partner gave me tips on how to throw a decent punch. The probability of my getting into a fight has risen somewhat, over the last couple months.
Gotta be prepared.

I now know what a broken heart feels like. I have been X-ed out his life and I have NO IDEA WHY! I think that's the worst part of it: I can accept that people won't stick around in your life forever, but after you were on such a cool level with someone, they OWE you some kinda explanantion as to why they've banished you so totally...don't they???

Last night was the Jahbulani's Strictly Latin 2005 competition, and we weren't in it to defend our title. Well, I wasn't in it, anyway.
When I saw him walk out on to the floor with a number pinned to his back, and with HER of all people, I was crushed. Absolutely crushed.
He knew I wanted to compete! I feel like I've been stabbed in the back.
I thought I was doing a good job of keeping it together, but a couple tears did manage to spill over.

I tried so hard not to wish them ill, I even tried to be a good sport, and congratulated her on winning her category, but when she replied with a sullen "Yeah, whatever." I couldn't help but stare at her, willing her to burst into flames.

This one'll be a bit tougher to shake off.

Today was Day 3 of my vacation, and I've been doing
a whole lotta nothin'!
So far I've made a beaded anklet, practiced chords on
the guitar, sunbathed au natural in the backyard, made
pholourie and Jell-O (not together), caught up on some reading, and of course
watched t.v.
I've got plans to make it to the beach sometime too. Here's to bumming!

C.O.T.

Well, in the Genesis beginners class on Saturdays, the
sadistic part of me rather enjoys the nervous
reactions of a certain shaky-handed Trini, but in the Bailamos
beginners class on Sundays, I have to admit...the
tables have kinda turned on me a bit.

The corn-rowed dude with the ruddy complexion...he
seems to delight in making me squirm. I KNEW he'd be
trouble! He's friends with the Push-up King, and they
look like they could be made from the same mold. From
now on I shall refer to this new eye-candy as The
Plaited Macker.

When he needs my help with a certain move, he has no
qualms about stealing me away from another beginner, with the utmost smoothness and confidence, saying stuff like "Hey Daana, lemme take
advantage of you here for a bit", with a sly smile.
When I'm explaining a tecnique to him, he looks me
right in the eye and licks his lips.
I caught myself stuttering around him the other day.

This is not cool.

The other night I was at an informal practice session with three other couples, and we were attempting a certain swing move which entails the lady facing her partner, jumping up on him, putting her legs on either side of his mid-section, while he dips her down and her legs extend upwards, behind the man, up past his head.

Needless to say, my new dance partner was somewhat apprehensive about this move (though I think he was more concerned about his back, than he was about dropping me), so someone suggested I try it with Mr. Push-up King first.
Nothing describes that experience quite like the words "Yee-ha! Ride 'em cowboy!"
I was quickly reminded of how strong that guy is.

I gotta say, I rather like being picked up.

Stuff I'd Do If I Didn't Need To Sleep

* Transform my bedroom into the neat, organised sanctary that I'd like it to be.
* Get more practice on this guitar. I should be able to switch chords like a chordist by now, dammit! I'm lagging!
* Resume my weight-training. Death to fat!
* Catch up on my msn socialising.
* Learn to make a perfect pot of rice and peas
* Create some beaded jewellery.
* Catch up on some reading.
* Laundry

C.O.T.

Well, I must be having a "bougie" moment or something, cuz I don't get what the big deal is with this Tony Matterhorn guy.
First of all, I can't understand 50% of what comes outa his mouth...I guess that J'can accent just hasn't grown on me yet, and second, is he s'posed to be some kinda DJ God or suh'in? I haven't heard him do anything that somebody couldn't do.

The tall Trini tried to sneak outa the beginner's class this afternoon, but I got him to come back. He usually arrives a few minutes late and lingers in the doorway, lookin' like a shy little boy.
I dragged him on to the floor, made him put his arms around me and chacha with me. His hands were shaking again!
My my, could it be that I'M what's makin' him nervous? Wouldn't THAT be pure kix! If that's the case, then he's in for some trouble, cuz when girls smell fear, they run with it! Or maybe it's just me...

Heheh, and all that time I thought it was his cologne that smelled so nice!

I found myself pointing out to him that in ballroom, you don't use your mouth to communicate with your partner, but your body. He looked at the ground and gave a nervous little chuckle.

I love this.

I recently watched the entire labour and birth process on a Discovery Health. Those bastards showed everything, and I made myself watch it, muttering to myself the whole time "this is educational...everyone should know the basics of childbirth."
Now, I'm scarred for life.

As the soon-to-be mother grimaced with each contraction, I crossed my legs tighter and tighter as if I'd never uncross them again. And maybe I won't.

I like to preach to my brother about how it's a natural process, and there's nothing disgusting about it, but to be honest, I was absolutely revolted when they showed a close-up of the baby "crowning".
It was like a horror movie.
And when the baby finally got squeezed out, followed by a flood of ambiotic fluid (or maybe it was the placenta?) it looked like a mottled grey alien, covered in day-old cheese sauce.

Even visualising that again for this blog has set my heart a beat faster, and a queasiness in my stomache.

I can admit it...it scared the hell outa me.

See, in theory, the creation of life, and having a child to continue on after you, is all fine and dandy, but the actual physical pregnacy and birth???

That is some messed up ish right there.

Once again my thighs are killing me, not to mention my lower back, and now my forearms.
A guy on my MSN list reminded me that the pain is just the weakness leaving the body.
I love that. Weakness, be gone!

C.O.T.

Did I mention I met and shook hands with Mr. Festus Mogae, the President of Botwana, last Wednesday?

C.O.T.

My suspicions have been confirmed.
There's a certain Wicked Witch of the West in the dance community that has either conciously or subconciously, engineered the estrangement between my (ex?) dance partner and myself.
I don't know what kind of hold she has over him, but she seems to have made him her pet, and he's staying far away from me.
There're speculations as to what her master plan is, but that will only come to light at Strictly Latin 2k5. The more I think about it, the more outraged I become, but I have to try hard not to stoop to her manipulative, conniving, underhanded, and flat-out dangerous, behaviour.

She'll get what's coming to her.

I now bestow upon myself the esteemed title of Weekend Warrior! Raaaaaaarrrrr!

My itinerary was as follows:

Fri. 8pm: Dance rehearsal for show in April.

Sat. 4pm: Assist in beginners classes at Genesis Dance Studio (I decided that Mr. Trini Shakyhands isn't gay...no self-respecting homosexual man would dress like a 12 yr. old boy.)

Sat. 6pm: Coach fitness pageant girls on dance/movement/performance tecniques.
There's this one girl who acts like it hurts her to smile. From the minute I saw her, I sensed she would be a challenge. She even refused to take part in one excercise. I WILL break her. Uh...I mean, get her to open up.

Sat. 8:30 pm: Dance rehearsal for cultural presentation for the visiting President of Botswana, on Wed.

Sun. 7 am: Beach training. Each individual muscle in my ass and thighs are currently tellin' me 'bout my mudda.

Sun. 2:30pm: Assist in beginners classes at Bailamos Dance Studio. One dude in particular makes it all worthwhile: 6 ft tall, broad shoulders, muscular arms, impishly handsome face, skin the colour of an antique clay pot, easy-going personable manner, and actually owns a pair of dress shoes, yet maintains his thug appeal (corn rows, y'all!). Gotta stay away from him, boh...he could be trouble.

Sun. 5pm: my own dance class at Genesis Dance Studio.

Sun. 7:30pm: See Sat. 8:30pm.

So much for R & R!

I am now in the process of familiarizing myself with the notes of the fourth guitar string!
D-E-F, baby!
Here's a list of the songs which I've mastered (well, one verse, that is):

Rockin' Robin
Yankee Doodle
Aura Lee
Ode To Joy
For He's a Jolly Good Fellow
And a couple others of which I can't remember the names.

C.O.T.

Where the heck is Moontown???

I've been having some rather unusual dreams lately. Some just odd, but some downright demonic and perverse. I'm getting a little worried actually, and I've upped my bedtime prayers. I may have to sprinkle salt around my bed and/or sleep with a crucifix or something.

C.O.T.

Today's Earth Lover Tip:

Carpool, or take public transport.
I know I myself am guilty of wanting the convenience of car rides here, thither and yon, but I'm willing to put a little extra effort into this too. Plus catchin' a ZR puts you more "in touch" (heheh) with your fellow Bajan, and adds a little spice to an otherwise humdrum day!

(Note: "spice" may sometimes mean "conductor vs. passenger in a cuss-out war", but doan dig nuttin, unless said passenger is you.)

C.O.T.

My least favourite strength-training excercise is the bench press. I find the only thing that gets me through it, is if I psych myself up by referring to the bar and weights, as my "bitches".

And heeeeeeeeeeeeeere's Valentine's Day!
I've decided to give into my natural inclinations, and be festive instead of trying to ignore the season, or even worse, wearing black from head to toe!
My red attire today is as follows: a sleeveless polo shirt, a groovy hippy ring, a beaded bracelet and dramatic crimson lipstick.
I wish I had a big red hibiscus flower to put in my hair.

C.O.T.

Well...it looks like I have a new dance partner. Not sure if I'm entirely happy about it, since it feels kinda like an arranged marriage. He's a cool guy and all, but I'm not sure what kinda "on-the-dancefloor" chemistry we'll present and I think I'm slightly taller than him in my 3" heels.
This will definately take some getting used to. In the meantime, I'll have go into this with all the positive vibes I can muster.

Here's to change.

Today's Earth Lover Tip:

Take your own bags to the supermarket. You can re-use your plastic bags from the last time, or make use of that big green bag/sack that your Aunt gave you for Xmas, that you probably weren't gonna use for anything else.
Think of all the plastic you'll be conserving!

C.O.T.
What happened to us? We used to be fairly cool together, and now I'm getting the feeling he's trying to phase me out of his life completely! I didn't do anything to justify his coldness so how can I help feeling as though I'm being betrayed in some way??
Shit, I didn't even know he was taking salsa classes, and he KNOWS I'd be interested in doing that! It's almost as if he was doin' it behind my back! He's not bound to me in any way, and I'm not trying to cling to him, that's for damn sure, but I thought we could at least have mutual respect, and open communication. Looks like that's too much to ask. That punk.
He won't even do me the courtesy of calling me to let me know when we have a meeting.
I'm tired of confronting him about his attitude.
Even if he doesn't leave, it still looks like goodbye.
I hate that it's like this. This sucks.

How do the powers that be, expect people to do the right thing, and try to maintain a healthy lifestyle when even at the lowest level, everything seems against you?? For example, a golden delicious apple costs $1.20 and a 16 pc. sandwich cookie package costs $0.79.
This is absurd.

C.O.T.

Today, being Ash Wednesday and all, marks the start of the Lenten season. Shame on me, I had no idea. A kindly old lady, in search of Easter cards, had to point this out to me.
I'd like to give up something...I really would, but I can't make up my mind on exactly what.

Sugar's a good choice, but I dunno if I can manage that, since I've discovered Lillifield Mudslides. Oh man, this drink makes me wanna talk dirty.
So...salad dressing it is.

C.O.T.
I've noticed that Buckleys gives me a slight buzz. I'm feelin' quite groovy right about now.

For some reason, which I can't seem to put my finger on right now. I'm getting the feeling that Mr. Trini Shaky-Hands from the beginners class could quite possibly be homosexual. Of course I could be way off too.

I'll be looking into the matter.

C.O.T.

Today's Earth Lover Tip:
Now this one takes balls/ovaries: quit wasting so much water by running the shower 'til it gets warm: Just take that cold water like a thug! Helpful hint: I find that if you do an all-over body jiggle/shimmy while entering the cold water quickly, you don't feel it as much. Cussing loudly may help too.

Now for another Earth Lover Tip (dedicated to Marcus):

Pee in the shower! This'll save at least a flush a day!

C.O.T.

Valentine's Day is comin' up. I'm undecided upon whether to ignore it completely, or be festive and celebrate it despite the fact that no tengo un amante en mi vida. I still have a week to decide.

Schuupes, I never get to do all those cute, romantic things on Valentine's Day, so I feel sorry for the guy who ends up with me around any future February 14th's! *big grin* It'll be late night beach picnics, hand-fed chocolates and hot oil massages galore! The works!
And now that I'm learning to play the guitar, he'll be in for a big stinkin' serenade, whether he wants to hear it or not!

Cheers to all the closet-romantics out there.

Our environment is going, or according to many scientists, has gone, to hell in a handbasket.

We're all guilty of choosing convenience (or in the case of the U.S. gov't, money) over a healthier planet, but the time for this luxury is long over.

Occasionally, I'll be posting some tips to help anyone who Always Wanted To Do The Right Thing But Was Too Afraid To Ask How.

Today's Earth Lover Tip:

It will take some planning, but iron all your clothes for the week in one go. This saves serious moolah on the electric bill. Not that I benefit, cuz my mother refuses to cooperate on this. I WILL break her tho...just a matter of time.

C.O.T.

I just love that show The Dog Whisperer with Cesar Milan. Check it out on National Geographic, weekdays at 7pm. Cesar is an absolute genius! Plus he looks like a cute little puppy himself.

Highlight of my weekend:

At the beginners class, Saturday afternoon, my dance instructor made a gangly, light-eyed Trini dance with me since he wasn't getting the steps right.
The poor boy's hands were shaking for the first 15 minutes or so! It was so darn cute.

I'm happy to say that my calm, easy manner (heheh) soothed his nerves and he seemed to relax a bit. In true Trini fashion, he joked about how much easier it was to jump and wave a flag.

After a while, he discovered his flip flops were hindering his movements, so he removed them.
Soon after, he unclipped his cellphone, and put aside his wallet.

"Hey, if anything else is getting in the way of your cha-cha-cha, feel free to take it off!" I said, half-joking.

Unfortunately, he didn't take the hint.

Ya's gotta spell everything out for these guys nowadays, boy.


C.O.T.

It's funny how much easier learning to play an instrument is, when you do it of your own free-will, than when you're strongly "encouraged" to do so by authority figures. Then again, I suppose that goes for everything.

I KNEW there was a reason I like going into town!

Yesterday, our dear capital was positively awash with fetching young men. Charming Fed-exers here, dapper business types there, sporty young tourists over yonder,... and all so friendly!

Even the miniature cutie in the shoe-repair place threw down a smooth move in slipping me his number along with my receipt.
I have GOT to try that some time.


Yup, it was a good day.

I'm an idiot. I wasted time being scared to make a play for a total hottie and now I think it may be too late.

What the hell was wrong with me? How could I have been so dumb?
I was blind, that's for sure, and I'll admit, maybe a little shy too.

He flirted shamelessly with me, and all I could muster were unenthusiastic responses.
I guess I can't blame him for being discouraged.

I took it for granted that he'd be there if I happened to change my fickle, immature mind, but now it looks like he has grown tired of my coyness, and moved on to greener pastures.

I made too much of it. It didn't have to be a big deal, it could have just been a seasonal romance, a beautiful fling to satisfy our curiosity, but I overanalysed the situation.
I made excuses not to be attracted to him: his head's too big, he's got a dorky name, his voice sounds feminine....

What I didn't realise was that those descriptions would no longer apply to him, once I had been exposed to his true colours:

He's intelligent, handsome, polite, fun-loving, focused, athletic, talented, rhythmic (he can dance, y'all!), and undeniably sexy.

I messed up big time. But maybe, just maybe, I can fix this.

Where the hell's my push-up bra?


*You've been reading an excerpt from my upcoming novel entitled The Origin of The Femme Fatale

Last night I took the 1st steps towards becoming a bad-ass guitar-chick: I cut my nails down to the quick, and got Dad to show me chords C, F, an G7.
I think he made up that last one cuz I've never heard of G7 before.
Oh well, I'll play along, I guess.
Of course, my fingers are rather sore right now. No doubt that in time, all this irritation will cause callouses on my fingertips, which I'm not too thrilled about, but that's a small price to pay for the reward of being able to bring the gift of beautiful music to those around me (who currently refer to it as "a bloody racket").

C.O.T.

And this week's "You Need A Hard Slap Upside The Head" Award goes to:

The all-natural, pseudo-rasta, vegetarian, don't-shave-nothing male, who likes his women in stilletto heels, tight clothing, and full make-up.
Schuuuupes.
Where do I find these guys?

I have decided that I want to learn to play the guitar. And be good at it.

C.O.T.

I watched Catwoman for the 1st time the other night, and it wasn't as bad as all the reviews made it out to be. It was kinda inspiring actually. Makes me wanna get some leather and go seduce myself a cop.
Halle Berry is so darn cute, and that hip-swinging sauter she pulled off at the end of the movie: poetry in motion!!!

Right, so it's Monday night, and I feel like going out and distracting myself from my inner voice. I don't feel like thinking, I feel like living. That might not make any sense, but it sure does roll off the tongue.

C.O.T.

Our christmas tree is still up, and nobody around here has any immediate plans of taking it down. I know I don't. I'm getting pretty good at just ignoring the darn thing.

C.O.T.

Yesterday I watched the romantic comedy Head Over Heels, starring Freddie Prinze Jr. and some blonde chick (forgot the name), and throughout the movie, all I kept thinking was "Oh good grief, this is so corny."

*Gasp*
When did this happen?? When did I become like this? I used to LOVE romantic comedies...developing minute-crushes on each male lead, and in the case of a video rental, secretly rewinding and replaying the "first kiss" scene, after which I felt all warm and fuzzy inside.

Now it seems like I can't bare to watch anything even remotely mushy. Maybe I've "matured" as is the popular notion. Maybe I've developed a crusty, protective, "no-mush" coating, although I don't know why, since my heart's never officially been broken.

Maybe I'm just hatin'.