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.