Oh...my...GOSH! Right this moment I'm freakin' the heck out because DJ John Doe is bringing down some CLASSIC wukkup tune! Cheese-cutta Wine, Balance Batty, Short Pants, oh my! Now he's playing Zouk La C'est Sel..or whatever you call it!
Oh the memories! I'm getting flushed just thinking about 'em!

C.O.T.

I can't believe I almost forgot to blog about this.

A lil' while ago it was baccanal on Crystal Avenue (mi barrio). We have a neighbor who I refer to as The British Twinky because a) she's from England, b) she's blonde and c) all she ever wears to do her yardwork is one of her many, many bikinis. Dad tells me I should go do yardwork in MY bikini to show her how it's s'posed to look.
This suggestion disturbs me somewhat.

Back to the story. Twink owns a couple-a pitbulls and when she moved here, all the neighbors got a lil' anxious, even though she put up extra fence. Well, early Saturday morning about 2 weeks ago, her "adopted" pitbull jumped over her wall and chased a young dude down our avenue! The poor guy just happened to bail over OUR wall (crushing Dad's crotons, he lamented later on) and land on his head on the lawn. He was terrified. He couldn't even speak properly when my parents brought him into our living room.

Well, this incident absolutely infuriated my parents and they each handled in it their own way. My Mum stood on our patio in her nightie and hollared across the road like a crazy person, at Twink's house (empty at the time), and my Dad simply called the police. Twink really hasn't been in his good books since she wrongly accused him of poisoning her cat a few weeks after she moved here.

It was something else when the cops actually came too.

The young dude was ok, praise the Lord, but apparently his mum's Jamaican, so I don't think this'll end here.

* My room is finally getting painted! I have assumed the role of Head-painter and I've drafted the Private into assisting me. Boyfriends sure are handy. If only I'd realised this sooner.

I had some serious trouble deciding what colour to go with. I love the present colour, Misty Jade (a baby aquamarine), but it's been that colour for 25 years so I'm looking for a change. I considered Yellow Rose, Anemone (a purplish-pink) and Spring Fest (a fresh green), but I decided to go with Tropical Tides (a sea blue). I have to say, I feel a little like a sell-out since everybody and dem parakeet seems to go for some shade of blue or the other. Left up to my father, he'd choose off-white. I couldn't allow that. People, don't let off-white happen to you.

C.O.T.

I don't know how to act around workmen. I feel that if I'm too relaxed and friendly, they'll see it as an opportunity to hit on me (it's happened before).
On the other hand, I end up feeling stand-offish and snobby if I don't at least engage in small-talk.
Ordinarily this wouldn't be such a dilemma, however, recently I've found myself virtually surrounded by workmen: they're painting and repairing my Grandad's house, a couple were fixing the awnings on our house, and there're about 5 building the house next door to us, about 7 feet from my bedroom window.

Thank goodness for the scrawny pomegranite tree blocking any would-be voyeurs from peeking in on me when I absent-mindedly let down my guard AND my bath-towel!

Well, I'm quite outraged at the last episode of America's Next Top Model.

I realise that one must be adaptable in that biz, but good grief, why would they give a model the ultimatum of having to undergo the surgical closing of the gap between her teeth, or face almost certain dismissal from the show??? Isn't that a little drastic?

I mean, her teeth aren't even crooked, it's JUST a little gap in her teeth! It looks perfectly fine to me, and to the girl herself too apparently, because she told them that the gap is a part of who she is. Tyra and the gang were appalled at her high self esteem (how DARE she be happy with the way she was born!).

They SAY they like it when their models have a unique look, so what's wrong with hers? I hate how they suggest that to be beautiful one must conform to the standard they've chosen.

What the international modelling industry seems to be ignoring is that they have the power to market almost ANY look!
One thing that has become apparent to me from watching this show is that, with make-up and air-brushing, even an average-looking person can be a magazine model!

I dunno, maybe the gap-in-the-teeth issue is the straw that broke the camel's back for me because I myself have slightly crooked teeth which I happen to think are kinda cute. My Granddad tells me from time-to-time about how I'd look so much better if I had them straightened.



But here's the thing...I don't want some generic toothepaste-advertisement smile...I like the character of the one that God and I came up with already.

I have bad news.

My Great-Uncle Norman* and his wife, Aunty Martonia* have come to stay with my Grandad for 3 weeks.

I don't mind Uncle Norman at all, in fact he's so easy to like: an easy-going, sporty, relaxed kinda dude. It's Aunty Martonia that's the problem. She's a tall, shrill-voiced, argumentative, domineering, control-freak. Everyone feels sorry for Uncle Norman.

Under any other circumstances I wouldn't mind them coming to visit, but I happen to spend quite a bit of time at my Grandfather's house.

I can't believe how she sprawls her large frame in my late Granny's armchair at 6 pm, as if she's Queen of the Castle, listening to her walkman, NOT watching tv, yet commandeering my usual vantage point from which I take in Days of Our Lives and bond with my Grandad.
How DARE she.
I just KNOW she's power-tripping on this.

2 and a frikking half more weeks of this.

*Names have been changed

It's like something from a nightmare: one of those transluscent-skinned lizards, has set up residence in my bedroom!
I don't like them one little bit; they don't even look like proper lizards...more like a zombie version with their pale skin.

Worse still, I believe its favourite spot in the room, is right down behind my bed. I've been trying not to think about it, but it's time that I face this thing.

I've caught it...looking at me while I was sleeping a couple of times. I would slowly drift to the surface of my morning consciousness, eyes cracking open, and there it'd be, peeping out from the crevice between the wall and my bed, just inches away from me. Of course I'd jump, and it would dart back out of site, leaving me feeling strangely violated.

I don't necessarily want it dead, i just don't want it anywhere near me.

Thanks so much to the all the well-wishers: my partner and I won BOTH our categories!

Yee-HAW!

But the REAL victory was that my false eyelashes stayed on the entire time! That's the first time I've competed in 'em, and they did JUST what they're s'posed to do: stay put, and make my eyes look extra fabulous. I recommend 'em to any lady.

Oh, and the bra part of my costume held up quite nicely too. This was also the first time I've showed that much skin in a competition. Didn't look too bad, but I can see I'm gonna be working on some areas over the coming months.

C.O.T.

I've come down with tonsilitis. Hurts to eat. Bring on the antibiotics.

Phew! Finally managed to break that box of silence!

It's that time again...THE biggest latin dance competition of the year:
Jahbulani's Strictly Latin 2006! THIS Saturday 25th March! Tomorrow!

Am I competing? Hell yeah!

Am I ready? As ready as I'll ever be!

Is my costume ready? Nope!
This evening I gotta catch the 5pm flight to St. Lucy, over to my seamster to get the thing fitted. This is the first time I'm tryin' this guy, so I'm praying that it turns out ok. I'm especially worried about the built in bra part of the 'stume. Please Lord, please let it be as supportive as I need it to be.

This time there're gonna be about 6 or 7 couples in the advanced category! Now DIS is competition!!!
I gotta say, I'm starting to feel pumped for this thing! The last couple rehearsals went pretty well, and I'm feeling ready.

I wasn't in the last Strictly Latin, so this time I have a point to prove, dammit!

I tried to hold out, but it looks like I too, am off to Trinidad for Carnival. Today actually.

Let me make it absolutely clear that my main reason for goin' is to visit wid de Lanster, NOT to fete 'til I drop, and certainly not to work. I have hopes that this'll serve as a vacation as well, and I'll finally get some rest, but I suspect that there'll be individuals who'll do their best (and their worst) to thwart my plans.

Yes, I DO intend to take in a couple fetes and release some stress, but gone are the days where I do things that I don't want to do.
Heaven help the poor soul who tries to make my waist do even ONE more gyration than is absolutely necessary!

If anyone senses reluctance on my part for this trip, it's mainly because I have to leave behind a certain young man. Again.
Ah well. Only for 9 days, I s'pose.

Well, the Dance Extravaganza came off without a hitch last Saturday. Managed to glue on all the sequins to my costume just in time too.

The performances were great, ESPECIALLY those of the Swedish Open Championship couple, Kevin and Anna (neither of whom are actually Swedish)! They were poised, crisp and expressive. Inspiring, I tellya.

I'm so happy to be part of shows like this. Ahh, the thrill and glamour of performance! I danced in fake eyelashes for the first time. Three words: I love 'em!
They really make your eyes pop!

My partner and I made few mistakes in our routines, but I think we covered well (keep smiling like nothing went wrong!). We even managed to throw down some acting in our presentations. Yeah baby, we gettin' versatile!
The only problem was that for our 1st piece (for which I thought up the concept), the emcee neglected to read the synopsis to the audience! Aaargh! And the synopsis was necessary to fully appreciate the piece too! We were cheated!

Entitled "Trapped in the Radio" it portrayed 2 ballroom dancers who find themselves mysteriously (you guessed it) trapped inside a radio. Slaves to the music, they're forced to dance to whatever plays as the radio dial is turned.

I just know people were in the audience thinking "It's nice...but what does it mean???"

Sigh. Oh well.

Next up is the Jahbulani's Strictly Latin 2006 in March.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Unfortunately I didn't get to wear any red today to celebrate, but my gums DID bleed during my routine cleaning at the dentist today. Hope that counts. Looks like I'll need surgery to remove a wisdom tooth soon, but that's another blog.

Getting back to the point!

I'd like to point out that this is the first V-day on which I actually have a a valentine and I'm like, totally stoked!

In keeping with today's lovey-dovey theme, I'm hereby dedicating this blog to Private Ryan. It's about time he got one.

This guy has definatly made a change in me. I used to be so anti-mushiness, and now I can cuddle with the best of 'em.
I first noticed I was different when I could look at a hugging couple without rolling my eyes.

If I'm around my friends and he calls me, I have to lower my voice because my immediate use of a soft, affectionate tone causes loud and profuse teasing.

Dude has me trippin'. I'm so glad we're together.

Well, I was SUPPOSED to be sporting rich red streaks in my hair by now but alas, my plans at re-vamping my image this weekend fell through.

I dunno, something about the salon just didn't sit right with me.
Maybe it was the odd chemical smell. I know hair salons usually smell like relaxer and shampoo, but this odor smelled harsh...as if they were putting acid in the conditioner.

Maybe it was how the stylist seemed to be ignoring what I wanted (just the frikkin' red streaks, dammit) and going on about what SHE thought would be better (dying my whole head some version of brown with BLONDE streaks).

Maybe it was how I sat in the waiting area for an hour while people who were on time for THEIR appointments (yeah, I was half an hour late for mine) waltzed on in past me, to be prepped at the shampoo stations.

Whatever it was, I decided to hell with that and left the salon. Damn. And just when I had managed to put aside my mistrust of other people with my hair too.

So now my hair is still regular ol' bland dark brown, complete with split ends and all. I'm SO disappointed.

The Private has offered to put the streaks in for me (Did I say offered? I meant insisted!) , but since he has no previous experience in haircare besides washing and conditioning (haha) his own close-shaved head, I have respectfully declined.

Last night Private Ryan and I went out to lime on the south coast. There's another thing I like about him: we can party together!
So there we are grooving on the dancefloor, and in walks a blast from my past...Batman.

I still chat with him occasionally online and it turns out he's back in the island indefinately. When I spotted him, I WAS a little surprised to see him, but something was different: my heart didn't skip a beat this time. My breath didn't catch in my throat and I didn't get fidgety and smiley either.

I passed him on my way to the bar, and tried to engage him in a little small talk for old time's sake (Ha! WHAT old times?)...y'know, to see how he's doing and all that. Once again, it was like talking to a brick wall. Or maybe a piece of broccolli.
I smiled to myself. How could I have wasted so much energy on him? He's nothing compared to The Private , who always seems to know just what to say to me.

These thoughts ran through my head as I stood gazing up at my sweetie.

"What, I have a booger or suh'in?" he asked self-conciously.

"No hun, " I replied, still feeling kinda mushy, "you have something of mine that's much bigger, redder and in my chest region".

"Amm..your boob?"

He's not very good at riddles, but he's still the one that I want.

What's up with this new breed of "super-potholes" that seems to be emerging around the island? Well, in Christ Church anyway. I don't remember them being quite so....abyss-like in the past.
I'm seriously considering carrying emergency supplies in the car in case I happen to drive into one by accident, and the emergency rescue team can't get to me quickly.

C.O.T.

It kinda irks me when someone frequently asks me "What are you thinking?". One's thoughts are the first and last things, in this world, that one has to claim as their own...as private. Why should one have to share every notion and idea that comes across one's mind? Why, it's an invasion of privacy almost!

Boy...it's been a while and I'm STILL not sure if I have anything worthwhile to say.

My partner and I are working on our pieces for the upcoming Dance Extravaganza: he wants to do a showpiece that's strictly chachacha, and I wanna do a piece demonstrating the verstility and adaptability of ballroom (i.e. with hip hop or pop)
We haven't even started to put the routines together and the show is less than a month away. I woke up this morning feeling stressed and slightly panicked and I'm sure the Extravaganza is the reason.


C.O.T.

Why, oh WHY won't Guthy-Renker update it's website to enable NON-US citizens to order products via credit card???

All I want is the Sheer Cover foundation package! Comes with 2 shades of foundation (to mix), finishing powder, dual tone concealer, facial cleanser, sunscreen moisturizer, natural bristles application brush and travel brush, AND demo cd, ALL for the unbelievable price of US$29.95!

I don't usually fall for infomercials, but I gotta admit, they got me on this one! The testimonials! The demonstrations! This stuff looks like the bomb.

And I can't even get any! Schuupes.

I can still make calls on it, but the LCD on my precious Samsung A800 is no more, and I'm feeling the pressure to get a new phone. But there's nothing that calls out to me from the display cases of either C&W or Digicel.

I'm not hard to please, all I want is a flip-phone in the range of $150 with an external LCD, that can fit into the clip-on phone case my Dad got me for Christmas. Is that too much to ask??? Apparently so, because there AREN't any in stock!

There WAS the Konka C296, but when it was in stock, my phone was working perfectly! And now...they're all gone. This blog can't possibly express the profound disappintment I feel in my heart when I think about it.
I can't get the Konka out of my head. It fits my every need. PLUS it has a built in menstruation chart, a feature unheard of in your average cell phone. It blows my mind.
It was made for me, and I want it.

If I can't get the phone I want...well...I won't get a phone at all.

Well...at least not until this phone gives out completely.

The new season of Dancing With The Stars started last week Thursday, and one of the "Stars" is none other than rapper/entrepeneur Master P! When I heard this, my first thought was "Are they serious?", and after watching him and his behaviour last night, I can see that my initial doubt was well-founded.

As much ice as he rocks and as many dubs as he rolls on, the man is still an uncouth, ghetto thug.
He says he's doing the show "to represent for all the rappers out there." but he's not doing ANYTHING! The man won't even TRY to dance, he's just clomping around like a blind cow!
The judges reprimanded him for wearing basketball shoes for his 1st performance, and all he can say is that he "ain't changin' who he is fa nobody!"
Of all the ignorance! Why did he even ENTER it if he won't make an effort??

His poor partner Ashley Del Grosso, is trying so hard to remain polite and open, and even went and GOT him a pair of proper dance shoes. The things were stylin'. Diddy or Jay-z woulda worn 'em with pride. When she presented them to him, his response was to drop them on the floor and kick them away with disdain, growling "Naw, naw." the whole time!
Did he think that was funny?? It wasn't, it was appalling!

And to think he probably has NO idea that he's showing himself on international television as an uncivilised, ungracious,inflexible barbarian!
He even refused to take off his cap, but instead turned it backwards.

He didn't "represent"...in fact he has fueled the negative stereotype of rappers that I'm sure most of the organizers and viewers hold.

He disgusts me.

Okay, I'm back and it feels SO good to be home!

First things first: my partner and I didn't manage to place in our competition, but that's NOT because we didn't dance our butts off! I'm actually VERY happy with our performance...it's just that apparently SOMEBODY insisted that we enter the category above the one for which we were better suited!
As a team however, Barbados DEFINATELY made it's presence felt, since all the other couples placed in their categories.
As crushed as I was that we didn't bring home a trophy, I can't let it get me down.

Gotta get back out there, cuz I KNOW I can do this thing. It's a new year, and we gotta make some changes.

Slight C.O.T.

The cold definately wasn't as bad as all the horror stories I'd been hearing...either that, or I'm a helluvva lot tougher than I thought!!
What was REALLY horrible was the bathing part of it. Before I go on, I just want to make it clear that I DID bathe everyday...but it certainly wasn't something I looked forward to while over there.

Why don't these people have a mixer tap??? It's not rocket science!! Normal human beings cannot bathe in water that is either freezing cold or scalding hot, so why are those the only options???
Usually I don't mind bathing out of a basin very much, but doing so in a chilly bathtub with no shower curtain is downright stressful!!

And what's up with the room heater? It only heats within a 1ft radius of itself, so generally speaking I found it virtually useless at heating the room. It DID heat my pajamas pretty well however. Nothing like a toasty bum as you drift off to sleep.


More comments on my Blackpool Experience to come....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Ah yes, he'd be fierce!