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'.

I was just on my way to bed when certain mp3 started up, and man, it moved me. This song has serious strip tease potential. Very sensual beat too.
Phew, I had to turn on the fan to blog this even.

It's on the City of Angels soundtrack.
It's playing during the scene where Meg Ryan' character is lying in the bathtub, having impure thoughts about Nicolas Cage's character, Seth, the angel, who is watching her the whole time, while in inviso-mode, of course.
Heheh, who says angels have to be saints!

Feelin' Love- Paula Cole


Love, love

You make me feel like a sticky pistil
leaning into a stamen
You make me feel like a mister sunshine
Himself
You make me feel like splendor in the grass
While we're rollin'
Damn skippy baby
You make me feel like the amazon's runnin'
between my thighs

CHORUS:

You make me feel love, love, love, love, love
love, love, love, love, love
You make me feel love, love, love, love, love
love, love, love, love

You make me feel like a candy apple
Red and horny
You make me feel like I wanna be a dumb blonde
In a centerfold, the girl next door
And I would open the door and
I'd be all wet
With my tits soaking through this tiny felt t-shirt
That I'm wearing
And you would open the door and tie
Me up to the bed

Chorus

Lover, but I don't know who I am
Am I (?)
Am I hot inside
What would I place with your hot conscious
Oh baby babe babe babe
I will be your death, the moonlight
Take your time

You make me feel (3 times)
You make me feel loved


Somebody pass me an ice-cube.

I've never had a problem with authority figures; if I recognise that it's for the best, I'll do whatever they ask without an issue.
What I DO have a problem with, is if they try to treat me like a child...especially if they're under 5'4", and bear a striking resemblance to a perky little gremlin.

C.O.T.

Well, it's a good thing My New Year's Resolution No. 1 was "Embrace change", because I've now found myself smack dab in a whole roll of "change" that I gotta start embracin'.

Y'know...I've noticed that whenever people start saying things like "Things always change; nothing stays the same", it just means that something that you didn't want to happen at all...has happened.

Anyhow, on to the point of the blog.

I'm currently on the market for a new dance partner!

Anybody who knows anybody with the following characteristics, can pass along my contact info.

*male
*5'11" +
*20-27 yrs.
*Patient
*Physically fit
*Silver level and upwards in Standard and Latin ballroom
*Self-motivated and looking to progress
*Open to performing and competitions

I wish somebody would come online and talk to me. I feel like reaching out and touching someone.
It's raining, and I kinda bummed, although I'm pretty sure the two situations aren't connected.
Maybe it's that I didn't get enough sleep this morning...only 5 hours. I tried to drift back off, but my eyes refused to close. So here I am...clicking away on the PC, like a zombie. Only with better clothes.

C.O.T.
Last night, I bopped on over to a street jam. You never really think about how alone you are, at a fete, until at least 6 people ask who you came with, and you repeat the line "Oh, I came by muhself."
As usual, no-one was dancing particularly. I realise that this bothers me less and less; I just go ahead and do what I came to do, regardless of whether the people in my immediate vicinity are boogieing with me or not.

Some half-drunk guy came tryin' to chat me up and I pretended that I didn't speak English. Bare "No te entiendo." and "Tonto, porque no te vas??" in his ass.
My, but he was persistent: if one question didn't seem to work (which none of them did, since I was a total Latina to him), he just asked the same thing louder:

"My friend, Wuh you nee-um?...WUH YOU NEE-UM?"
"Where you from?.....WHERE YOU FROM???"
"How old you is?.....HOW OLD YOU IS???
"I wanna dance wid you doh.....DANCE...YOU AN' ME...TOGEDDUH."

Then he commented to a friend of his "Nah, she dumb...she cyan speak nuh english." In all honesty, I'd really like to meet the woman who falls for his brand of charm.

Slight C.O.T.

Of course...Batman was there. He pulled the "Here-I-am-standing-all-alone-to-make-it-totally-easy-for-you-to-come-chat-me-up" routine, otherwise known as pulling a "lonely. Glad to say that I didn't fall for it again. I stuck to my resolution and kept my ass the hell away from 'im. So of course when I was leaving, he decided he had to leave too so I HAD to cross his path. Sigh.

To my credit though, I kept any conversation to a bare minimum...just enough to be civil, and I didn't hug him back when he put his arm around me. And I didn't say bye when I walked away.

Phew...Ice-Queen in training!

What are the odds of, after making New Year's Resolution No.2 "No more centipedes", that 2 days later, I'd come across 2 of 'em??
Coincidence? Who knows.

It went like this:

Everything was calm, I was watching t.v. on our couch, when suddenly, the alarm went up!

"You! Wha de @#&$ is dah??? I nearly step pun dah, yuh!"

I jumped to my feet and rushed to the scene: there was my brother and his friends in a loose circle around It...a centipede about the length of the finger with which I occassionally make obscene gestures.

My brother dashed off to find a cutless, but I, sensing there wasn't enough time for that, sprang into action.
I didn't pause, I didn't waver. I, the lone female in a group of tall, strapping young men, lept forward with nary a thought of my own safety, and crushed the centipede with my beslippered foot, in a smooth, one-off stomp-and-twist motion.
I was told later that it almost looked like a dance.

The 2nd centipede was taken out with far less style: my brother's friend crushed the pinky-sized varmint with his half-empty beer bottle. I'm not even sure if he wiped the 'pede juice off the bottom before he finished his beer.

Sigh. That's the problem with amateurs. No finesse.

And here we are! The first day of 2005! It didn't start out much like my fantasy, but hey, at least none of my loved ones were swept away by a tsunami either
No matter what, I can't complain, because compared to what's goin' on in Asia, my Old Year's was fabulous. Remember the Indonesian posse and the Thai crew, in your prayers.

The Midnight New Year's kiss has eluded me yet again, but my new reasoning is that midnight comes around every 24hrs, so I'll have at least 30 more opportunities this month to make up for it.

There're certain party poopers out there who don't even bother to make resolutions, claiming they never stick to 'em, so there's no point. Me, I love making new year's resolutions, and really putting in the effort to keep to them all year long, in my quest for personal growth.

My resolutions:

1.) Embrace change. Yeah, I'll admit, I'm one-a those peops who likes stability and constance. But things change, such is life, so it's best to have a good attitude about it.

2.) No more centipedes. Take this any way you want.

3.) No more Batman. And I won't stand for any bets being made on how long I'll last with this one.

4.) Make that first head-nod greeting when I cross paths with one-a those people whom I kind of know, but for no reason in particular, don't speak to. When I think about it, it makes more sense to at least acknowledge each other presence than to sail past like ships in the dark.

And here we are...the last day of 2004. Time for me to take a deep breath and embrace two-kay-five. Unfortunately it's looking like I won't be ringing in the new year in my ideal fashion, so I'll take this opportunity to blog about....

My Fantasy Old Year's Night

Picture it: St. Lawrence Gap, the street is alive with merry-makers, tourists and locals alike, everyone is buzzing on the Old Year's excitement.
Or maybe it's the 2-for-1 tequila shots from Cafe Sol.

Le Groove has reunited and is performing in McBrides, while Krossfyah is set to rock at Ship Inn.

Everyone I know and love to party with is at one bar or another in the gap. I'm reunited with all my main girls and we're reminiscing over our past school day shennanigans while sipping blueberry margaritas.

After stopping in every bar along the road, we end up in Ship Inn, to boogie until it's countdown time.

Guess who's there too...Batman!
Of course, I ignore him completely until he comes over and speaks. We exchange the customary "hi, how are you's", and then I give him the cold shoulder he deserves. My girls can't believe my noncholance.

Seems like he's finally come to his senses, but I couldn't care less.
He eventually grows a spine and comes over to ask me to dance. I think to myself "Oh, what the hell...it's Old year's night.", and I let him put his arms around me. And so we dance, and it's nice, like I always figured it would be. What the hell was he running from all this time?
The music stops and it's 15 seconds 'til the start of 2005!
Everyone's counting down, and I'm pretending not to notice that he hasn't moved away from me.

It's 12 o'clock now and everyone shouts "Happy New Year!!" I ignore him and hug my friends. A chorus of Auld Lang Syne starts up, and I pretend to finally notice him. I go to hug him and he steals a New Year's kiss....right on the lips. What a nerve. He's obviously drunk.

He pulls away , and looks at me like I might try to slap him. I really should. Instead, I pull in close to whisper to him, my hands sliding around the back of his neck, my lips grazing his ear,

"You snooze, you lose. Have a nice life guy."


And then I party on 'til sunrise with my girls!

The End!

Cha....I'd have to be made of stone to pull that off!

Well, I'm feeling a heckuva lot jollier now, thank Emily. Ready to spread joy and goodwill and all that.
Which I DID to some extent, at BoatYard last night. Ahhhhh, felt good to be among so many familiar faces, every one dancing and having a ball.

But I have one question for the fellas out there. Please, if you're male and your reading this...PLEASE lend me some insight to the workings of the masculine brain on this:

Why in the name of all that makes sense, would you say you're attracted to a girl, then spend the whole night avoiding her?
Please...I really need some opinions on this. I need to start the new year off with a clear head.
Help a sistah out here guys.

There goes my Christmas and boxing day and since I'd rather not say anything bad about those two days, I won't blog about 'em.
I just gotta start taking that saying "It's only as good as you make it", more seriously. In fact, I'll probably add that to my list of New Year's resolutions.

C.O.T.

I generally don't have drama in my life. When I encounter drama, it's usually someone else's drama that somehow touches me. If I'm gonna be upset, at least let it be my own drama that upsets me. Or wait, maybe I don't know what I'm asking for.

C.O.T.
Whenever I'm about to suh'in not quite "proper" but bound to be fun I hear a little voice telling me it's not the right thing to do. It's my conscience, it's annoying as hell, and it sounds a lot like my parents.
Hey, maybe I'll add that on to my resolutions: Ignore the voices cuz everybody's bound to do things that their parents won't necessarily approve of at some time.

C.O.T.
How can people be so open with their maliciousness and their triflingness? I mean, even if your intentions are less than pristine, at least try to hide it so other people won't know you for the scoundrel you are!

It's Christmas Eve...and I gotta say I'm not that happy about it. Except that it'll all be over soon. I'm usually not such a scrooge, but this year I really feel like my Christmas has been stolen from me. It almost means nothing to me right now, and THAT is tragic.

I was working all day today, finally reached back home around 7pm. I'm coming down with a cold now too. Ain't that some shit. And THEN at 9pm, my crazy parents decided they wanted to do a complete house-cleaning. And of course start ranting and raving at whoever is less than thrilled to join in. Namely me.
I wanted to send Xmas cards to the neighbors , and make sorrel, and ponche de creme, and cookies and all that, but all I did was work.
I want my Christmas back. I wanna spread some joy and goodwill to my fellow man.

And, as usual, I'm having my end-of-year personal freak-out session, where I panic at how fast the year has gone by, and in turn how fast my life is going by, and what scary changes the coming year will bring.
These episodes don't last long, but they're intense while they're going on.

I hope this Theraflu kicks in soon.

C.O.T.

On a brighter (and wierder) note, I inadvertently flirted with a female security guard the other day, and she hooked me up by speeding me through a long-ass line in the grocery store the other day. Hope she doesn't think I'm batting for the other team too.

Why is that everyone around here seems to have this innate fear of centipedes? Is it a Bajan thing? Bees sting hard too, but we don't shudder at the thought of bees like we do centipedes, right? Maybe it's because there're all those cutesy little phrases about bees: there's "busy as a bee", "mind your own beeswax" and my personal favourite "the birds and the bees".

In the bank line yesterday, an old lady came across a 4", live centipede in her purse. Now THAT was the most exciting thing that happened all day! I coulda sworn she was gonna have a heart attack with all that hopping around she did. She was pretty agile though. The guy behind her came to her (and everybody else's in the line) rescue and stomped it into centipede juice with his timburlands. Who says chivalry is dead.

C.O.T.

Batman seems to be giving me a green light again. I dunno if I should take the bait. Maybe I'll just pretend to take the bait, and torture him instead. He certainly deserves it.

I officially hate hook-ups.

It's always embarrassing to have your friends play a role in your romantic life, especially when they insinuate that you're useless when it comes to the opposite sex. Hook-ups make me feel pressured and nervous, like I owe it to somebody to make this guy fall for me.

So what happened last night WASN'T on my Top Ten Best Dating Experiences list.

The date was made on Wednesday, for the movies Friday night, and I won't lie, I felt fussy! I was looking forward to it like my next barbequed spare rib. He seemed calm, quiet...on the shy side. And he was fine. I was willing to give him a chance to compensate for being a smoker. One movie couldn't hurt, right?

Last night I took extra care to look cute without looking like I tried to, and I set out to meet him.
I was on my way to a lovely evening I told myself cheerfully, so imagine how loud the sound was, of my bubble bursting, when my girl called to say he wasn't coming and she didn't know why.

So I called him up of course, handling both my cel and the steering wheel in a risky move. Long story short, he freaked out, said he didn't want to put himself in a position where a serious relationship was a possibility, and made plans to go with some other woman to Harbour Lights instead.
There I was being all nervous, and I didn't even get the chance to show that I can be a safe kinda chick to hang with. He didn't even bother to call me himself....I would have gone done there and waited around for him like a total idiot. I feel like screaming just thinking about it.

But hey, it's okay because he said he was sorry. Jerk.

Big ups to Lani for having my back so I wouldn't have to spend the night at home moping.

I finally got to use the "weekend for two" at the Plum Tree Resort, which I won in a dance competition. Don't mind I didn't have a significant other to make up the "two", I went just the same!
Right after I checked in, I decided to meander around to the pool area. I was just leaving to go meet some friends for a movie, when I noticed someone trying to get my attention.
I turned around, there was a well-muscled youth, clad only in swim-trunks, striding quickly up to me.
Wow, I thought, I LOVE this place!
Turns out "Dave" had been looking high and low for any guests his age since the average person around there was 80 plus. Unfortunately, he was leaving the next day, and I was leaving right then to go see a blasted movie. Curses.

Saturday afternoon, I made sure I found myself in the pool. Of course I was the only one. If it's one thing I noticed about the old folk there, they never actually go INTO the water...they just sit AROUND it....for hours even. Like ancient wildebeest at a croc-infested watering hole.
Maybe they knew something I didn't.

Fast Forward to Saturday Night.
I can't believe I let 'em coerce me into goin' to Club Xtreme. Every time I think about it, spending $40 to party just seems more and more insane. Drinks free or not. I especially have a problem with paying to have my lungs polluted, since every other person in there is puffing on a damn cigarrette, the foolish goats.

I absolutely HATE it when you start checkin' for a fella, and then find out he's one of THEM. A smoker.
I tellya, one can go crazy agonising over whether to throw away one's principles and overlook that one flaw, in favour of (to use Govie's phrase) "the hotness".

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

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

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

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

Boy would that come in handy.

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

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

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

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

C.O.T.

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

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

I'm confessing openly and without shame: I am a heightist.

Yes, I discriminate against short people! Mostly in the form of overlooking (hey, what an unexpected pun) short guys as romantic interests. Well, actually, I kinda had something against short girls too. You know...those petite nuisances that sneak in below your line of vision, and make moves on your man. Kinda like those ankle-biter dogs. No offence to any short girls out there, of course (please don't band together and try to take me out or anything).

Back to the men.
Yeah, I'll admit, I mostly check for the taller dudes, but I realise that there're some under - 5'7" cuties about the place that are perfectly able to sign up for cookie-duty, so to speak.

So, while I can't say that I'm totally open to all heights yet, I can at least say that I'm seeking reform.

They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.

I so bloody vex right now! What is the fuckin' point of makin' a reservation if even de rasshole general manager ain' gun take it seriously???? Good thing I'm a local and not a tourist cuz then I'd be homeless right now!!! And even the man at de desk was no fuckin' help! He musse was de guard or suh'in cuz de man had NO sorta manners!!!
I was SO looking forward to some peace and quiet this weekend!!! Some rasshole solitude!!!! Is that too much to ask????
I feel like a caged animal in a crowded zoo!!!!

They say everything happens for a reason, but that is the LAST thing I wanna hear right now, because THIS IS BARE SHITE!!

The other day during an online conversation I was called "random as hell" .
I was flabbergasted.
Good thing it was a cyber chat, because my snort of indignation was anything but ladylike.
Of all the things to call me!
Random, am I? As hell , he says?!?!?!
Well, goddammit, he has no idea just how random I can be!

Let the randomness fly!!!

C.O.T.

In the next 2-3 weeks, there're so many cultural events, but so little money:

• The CSME Stars (Elephant & Bunji) concert . (Yes, I consider this to be a cultural event, and hell yes, I gun be dere)
• The Traditional Japanese Taiko Drummers concert. (I don't really know what a taiko drummer is, but it sounds pretty groovy).
• The "Just Dance" dance show (Lani's in this show, but I'd go regardless cus this is my thang!)

C.O.T.

I'm gonna start giving any potential flam material that comes my way, superhero/villain nicknames. That being said, Person B shall now be known as "Dr. Octopus" (and, henceforth the beautiful young man who haunted me all summer shall be referred to as "Batman", in case I feel the need to blog about him sometime in the future) !

Well, it seems like the Doc doesn't understand the meaning of the words "I don't think we should see each other any more. " Here's where the power of telepathy would be more useful to him than those tentacles of his.

C.O.T.

Looks like my plan to eleminate white bread from my household has succeded! 10 points for healthy living! My father is still clinging stubbornly to his whole milk though, and my brother refuses to eat the cauliflower. These skinny people think they're so superior.
I won't give up.

C.O.T.

Dealing with toenail injuries obviously gets better with practice, cuz this one has been a breeze. I rather enjoy flapping the loosened toenail up and down, like the jaws of a tiny little puppet, to gross out anyone who'll pay attention.



How's THAT for @#$%& random!

From time to time, you get urges, ...and you mostly fight them since you know in your heart that to go through with 'em would be absolutely ludicrous, but occasionally, you get weak and you give in, the whole time saying to yourself
"This is crazy...this is just crazy. You better not let anyone know about this, cuz then they'll know just how crazy you really are."

So today's motto is:

Occasionally let yourself follow the madness within. Just don't tell anybody.

C.O.T.

I could use some chocolate chip cookies about now.

Now here's where this blogsite gets a little R-rated.

I used consider myself to be a pretty open-minded kinda girl, y'know, hip to modern-day protocol and all that, but recently I've realised that when it comes to discussing sex and anything sexual, I can be pretty uptight, depending on my company. Actually, it's not the fact that sex is discussed, but more so how it's discussed, that gets to me.

No matter whose company I'm in, I just am NOT comfortable saying certain things in raw, "gutter" terminology. When I'm in a discussion with a potential flam, or mixed company, I find myself definately making an effort to phrase things as delicately and politely as possible, even though it's clear that the other person/people in the discussion won't be offended.
I tend to say things like
" gettin' down to business (wink wink)..."
" well-endowed"
"been around the block a few times"
" in a position where certain things are accessible (more winks)"

And I never use parts of the anatomy as cusswords. Well...at least not the fun parts. (Heheh, just had an image of someone hollaring "You! You's a real bubby!" Was too funny not to share.)

The funny thing is, when anyone else around me spits out a graphic description, I actually pretend to be cool, like it didn't startle me, but I can almost feel myself start to blush.

I've heard "Daana, it's ok y'know, you can say it." a good few times in my life. Mostly from males. Why is that?


Did I say this was gonna be R-rated? *Sigh* I've done it again. This was PG-13 at best.

Oh my.
I'm absolutely, postively smitten by that rapper T.I. My heart skips a beat and my breath catches in my throat when I catch even the smallest glimpse of him on BET.

Anyone who can guess why I'm so taken with this particular rapper, gets a Menta Cristal breath mint (they're really good).

Hint: It's a really pathetic reason. Hey, may as well let others benefit from my dotishness.

Note: Lani is not allowed to participate in this game.

One summary of my weekend, comin' right up!

Friday's Highs:

• The surprise b'day shindig we had for my partner's mum. I just LOVE surprise parties!

Friday's Lows:

• The cold shoulder I detected from my partner.

Saturday's Highs:

• My mid-morning workout. Ah yes, I felt the burn.
• I had an empty house to myself for the day. Sweet solitude, how I cherish thee.
• The girls' nite. We ate, we laughed and we boogied. And come to think of it, we didn't talk about men as much I thought we would've.

Saturday's Lows:

• My mid-afternoon nap was interrupted by the mad dash I was forced to make in order to save the laundry from getting soaked by a sudden shower. Of course, as soon as I managed to get every piece of clothing safely indoors, it stopped raining.

Sunday's Highs:

• All the gorgeous dresses I got to pose in for a photoshoot. Who woulda thought I looked decent in mint green?
• The fabulous gold, "gih-tuh-muh" shoes I acquired!

Sunday's Lows:

• Still need to lose 20 lbs. *Sigh*
• Got my toenail lifted from my toe, again, in a ballroom incident. Very painful. I saw stars. And blood.
• More of the cold shoulder from my partner. AND I detected a smirk of amusement on his face at my unfortunate toe drama.
• Overheard him saying to someone that he ain' entering Strictly Latin 2005. So....I ain' nuhbody? Don't I deserve a discussion, or an explanation at least? What de ass I do to de boy?

Y'know...I don't really trust anyone who doesn't like dessert.

It's all good if you limit it in a bid to be healthy, but to avoid it because you just don't LIKE it?? I'll never understand that one.

The minute I hear someone say "Oh, I don't much go for sweets." I immediately (and maybe wrongly, I'll admit) make a character assessment.

In my eyes, that person looks uptight, and unhappy, as if their inner child has died a tragic death long ago.
All at once ,they seem too serious, and secretive. They seem all closed in, like they don't want you to really know them.


Or maybe it's just my imagination.

Can anybody tell my why:

• Royal Bank won't accept one $5 money bag of pennies, but WILL accept two $2.5o bags? They have money bags there, don't they? They know how to count, don't they? Why the ass they just can't pour half of de $5 bag out into another bag, and poof! They get their two precious, blasted $2.50 bags of pennies! It's not higher math.
• Nobody seems to know how to manualy rotate the ink cartridge wheel on this @#%$ printer? It's like we have the only Konica Minolta 2300W laser printer in the world.
• Whenever I answer the phone at my Grandad's house, it's for the maid,who acts like I'm her personal answering service, and then when I insist that she answers the phone herself, it's for me?

Shane and I dominated last night! Yup, won BOTH our categories! Raaaaaaaarrrrr!

I wore a hairpiece (for the 1st time in my life) for the latin section. I whip my head about fairly vigourously for these dances and I prayed to the donkey-hair gods that it wouldn't go flying off. And it didn't! I gotta say, I can see why we women like to wear these things! I felt fussy enough!

I would just like to go on record as saying that that drink Red Bull...tha's a serious drink there boy. I had one before we performed, and I just could NOT stop fidgeting during the wait. Maybe it was a nerves/caffeine combo, but I definately felt the high.

And now on to something that isn't sitting too well with me:

Person B, as I expected, made up exuses not to come to the competition.

It "isn't really my thing" he said.
"Oh, but we're not even in a serious relationship that you'd be offended, right? Heheh." , he said.
Right.
This speaks volumes of his opinion of me.

Now on the other hand, two fellas, to whom I've made it very clear that I'm not interested, STILL made the effort to come and support me. That impressed the hell outa me.
So when I think about how THEY could come out and try to get a taste of my world, and I compare it to Person B's almost total lack of interest in what is important to me, it really drives home what I had been thinking all along.

He's not for me.

It's roughly 29 hrs until the start of the IDTA Caribbean Standard & Latin Ballroom competition. I'm definately not as nervous now as I was for the one back in March...just kind of excited.

Person B can possibly redeem himself if he shows up for this event. Such a thoughtful gesture would not go unrewarded.
I told him about it and he knows it's important to me. Let's see if he comes through.
The suspense is killing me.

C.O.T.

One of the villains on Days of our lives, a young, manipulative, selfish, scheming ex-prostitute, is named Eve. I have a sneaking suspicion that this was no coincidence on the part of the show's creators.
Hmph.

The office printer is draining my energy. An "Empty Toner Cartridge" alert popped up on the screen sometime last week, in the middle of a print job. It terminated my print project, and the printer refuses to let me print anything else, OR replace the toner cartridge. I have since been corresponding via email, with a Konica Minolta tech support guy named Stuart Wardale. I think I may be developing a crush on him. Never mind he spells my name as Deanna...nobody's perfect.

C.O.T.

Never before have I been so conscious of living in someone else's house. I dunno why exactly, but it doesn't feel like my home, just feels like I live there.

C.O.T.

I suspect that my room has turned into some sort of portal to another dimension or something. Things have been goin' missing recently...things that I KNOW I haven't misplaced...an important document...the competition music cd...a black strappy top...

Maybe I'm next.

Right now I'm feeling repressed, depressed and oppressed.
What I want most in the world right this minute is to be as far away as possible from all people, especially my family.

The only thing worse than relatives all up in your business, is distant relatives all up in your business.

Lord save me from old people. Miserable, tunnel-visioned, self-righteous old people.

Awright!
I did my gold medal standard and latin ballroom exam, in 8 dances last night (Waltz, Quickstep, Foxtrot, Tango, Chachacha, Rumba, Samba and Jive), and I aced it! Along with my partner of course! We still have to wait awhile to get our official score & comments report back, but we're finally at gold level! Glad that's over with. Now we have to buckle down and concentrate on finishing this @#&* Paso Doble routine for the competition this Saturday.

Slight C.O.T.

It's absolutely amazing how much drama goes on in my studio, right under my nose, and I'm completely oblivious to it! Obviously I'm way too good at minding my own damn beeswax.
The passion, the romance, the heartbreaks and the bitter lovers...it's all here, apparently.
I had a conversation with an unlikely person, in which much was revealed and confessed. Very enlightening indeed, but I can't help but wonder why he confided in me of all people...

do I smell a mack move comin' on?