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?

Well! Last night's practice was probably the best one since we started rehearsin' for this dang competition.
I dunno why, but my partner was actually pleasant and cooperative! Wonders never cease!

I thought we were gonna be alone for our session together, but we were joined by the Push-up King and his partner. (Awright! Eye-candy!)
The highlight of my week so far, came when he changed his shirt right there in the room. I couldn't help but exclaim "Ooh! Ooh! Half-naked man over there!"
Everybody looked at me funny, but I didn't care. I already got an eyeful of meaty pecs and abs.

C.O.T.

I assume that it's common knowledge that when two people are "dealing" or "talking" or whatever, they need to keep in fairly regular contact with each other, at least a phone call a week, so as to keep the coals of attraction from coolin' off.

So I think it's fair for Person A to be somewhat annoyed if, after not hearing from Person B for about 2 weeks, Person B calls Person A's cellphone and says:

"Hey Deidre?" (Wrong name ass.) "Yeah, I got your messages y'know...but I was just out on my little retreat...y'know, takin' some time out for myself. You know wha I 'bout."

*The person who first patented potpourri was a genius. Dried, perfume-sprayed forest debris...why on earth do I need this in my bathroom? Of course, my Mum's obsessed with the stuff.

C.O.T.

*Daana's Cheer-The-Hell-Up Manouvre after a hard day: head straight for your room or any place you can be alone for a while with a radio/cd player, put on the skankiest, dibbiest clothes you own, and some sturdy heels (at least 3" high), blaze up some dancehall or rap (sorry, rock just won't cut it this time)and getteth thine eagle on!
10 more points if there's a mirror nearby. This can work if you're a guy too, but you may want to make extra sure that you're positively alone.


C.O.T.

Recently I've been thinking...belly-button ring! A nice, sparkly, dangly one! I'll probably get over this notion soon, but geez, tha'd be a fun addition for me!
As common as tattoos and body-piercings are, I'm still absolutely facinated by them. I guess there's something to be admired in people who fight the natural instinct to avoid pain, all in the name of adornment.

There are some people with whom one can converse, and have a neutral experience. Y'know...nothing negative, yet nothing too inspiring either.

There are people with whom one can converse and have a very positive experience. These people lift your spirits, motivate you, give you new ideas etc. They make you want to be in their presence.

And then, there are those people with whom one finds it extremely difficult to converse, because they're enveloped in a pervasive, stifling aura of negativity. These people are unhappy and they seek to spread their misery to the otherwise joyful souls around them. One is usually on the defensive with these people, because these people are constantly using their words to attack, and in this way, they drain one's energy.

When faced with this type, it's only natural for one to want to drop everything, and get as far away as possible, from where this person is standing. They seem to speak with this heavy, spirit-dampening Voice of Doom.

I happen to live with one of these Voices of Doom. It's rough. Mostly because they'll never realise the harm they're doing, or worse, because they don't care.

Ya can try to spread the joy around, but some people just don't want it in their lives.

The almond tree outside my room has been chopped down, and the stump has been wrenched from the earth. I know it was a threat to the house during a hurricane, and yet I miss it horribly.
So many memories...
I used to climb and hang out in its sturdy branches, enjoy it's delicious shade, until I'd remember that I was outnumbered by bugs and lizards. Then I'd get the hell outa there.
But that tree meant something to me, dammit. Serious sentimental value there.
I swear my bedroom is 5 degrees hotter since my tree was abducted. I look out my window and now there's nothing.
Great, now I'm really gonna have to make an effort to draw the curtains when I'm dressing.

C.O.T.

Recently I've been wondering why it is that it's slightly more acceptable for children to see violent death scenes in movies, than it is to see sex scenes.
Kind of an indicator of our attitudes to sex, huh?

I don't have anything in particular to blog about, so you know the drill: ahh, the freedom of the fictional blog.

Today was just fabulous! The head chef created a new type of cake and named it after me! Not bad for my first day on the job, I must say. It has nutmeg and mango chunks in it, and he called it Gateau Naolat! Everybody else was wondering why he named it after me, but he wouldn't tell. And if he wants it kept a secret, then I won't tell either! One of the assistant hostesses kept givin' me stink looks for the rest of the afternoon.
It's not MY fault that Gateau Phyllis just doesn't sound as appetising.

I didn't think I'd actually get the receptionist job at "Horse Ovaries 4 U?Catering ", but when I mentioned that I had experience killing and preparing my own meat, the scales tipped in my favour. Not sure what that has to do with the usual receptionist duties, but I guess time will tell.
Here's to an equally fabulous tomorrow!

C.O.T.

This is the first time I've ever taken a real interest in the U.S. presidential elections. Please Lord, we all need your help on this one.

A different competition...but the same ol' shit.

What does a girl have to do to get a partner with a sunny disposition around here?
I can't go through that every time we compete. I just can't Tha'd be ludicrous.

Lance Corporal D.

I gotta say...I likey this "movement coach" gig...I likey a lot. Barking at people like a drill sargeant, while they dance is suiting me just fine.

"Left! Right! Left! Right!"
"Heads up! And 1, 2, 3, 4!"
"You over there, stop that bouncing!"

Before you know it, I'll be on to bigger and better things...like whips, and black leather clothing.

Yestermorning I got my ass up early and went to church for the 1st time in, I'll admit, quite a while. I was invited to a christening, and I figured "Yeah....why not!"

Well the drama started from the time I got outa the shower. I opened my wardrobe and realised that I had no church clothes.
So I went with what I had : A black corset-style tank top, and a black ankle-length skirt. I figured if couldn't be completely demure, I could at least don a somber, respectful hue. Only problem: the skirt comes low on my hips, so a sliver of my lower back was visible. I decided I was cool with that.
My parents, however jumped on this.

"You're not going like that are you??"
"People will stare, Daana!"
"You can't be exposing your chest, back and arms in church! You just can't!!!"
"Forget it! Find something else!"
"Come, let's go look and see what else you have!"

I wasn't going to a job interview, I was going to church...the ONE place I figured that one's outer appearance shouldn't matter. My bad.
My own parents made me feel like a gutter-whore.

The skirt I ended up wearing, at the insistance of my mother, was black, knee-length latina skirt, with a ruffled split ending high up the front of my thigh!

So somehow, in their eyes, the upper thigh is a far more holy and righteous body part, than the lower back.

Slight C.O.T.

Pentacostal churches are somethin' else boy. I heard people speakin' in tongues for the first time. I also danced in church for the first time.
What I didn't get, was why everybody was preaching with an American accent.

The actual christening went pretty well: the baby wasn't dropped, the reverend didn't spill the oil, and there were no objections from anyone in the congregation (heheh).
However, I must say, that was THE longest service I've ever attended! Three and a half hours??? The pastor like he didn't have Sunday lunch to go home to.


Oh, and no-one there seemed to have a problem with what I wore.

Aaaaaargh!

My ex-dance-partner is SUCH a dance snob!! He thinks he is SO perfect! He absolutely reFUSES to dance with anyone he thinks is "beneath" him and now he's latched onto the pretty, young, hippy thing in the beginners class! As if his pathetic crush isn't comPLETELY obvious! Poor girl doesn't know what she's in for.
And whenever he makes those stupid, insensitive comments, I just can't seem to let it slide! I just can't ignore him and move on....something about him just brings out the bitch in me. Whenever he opens his mouth my wicked Part B whispers,
"Daana, you have GOT to knock this pompous bastard down a peg or two!" It's almost like I consider it my personal duty to prove to him that he's an idiot.
One-a these days I'm not gonna be able to control myself, and I'll be forced to tell him about his B.O. in the loudest, most tactless manner possible.

C.O.T.
I don't know how to say this....so I'm just gonna say it.
The beautiful young man is back in my life. In my cyber life anyhow.
(I can almost hear a chorus of "Oh nooooooooo's")
Yeah, and he's tryin' to mess with my head again, from afar this time (as a certain Prodigal Blogger said he would). But y'know what? I am NOT defenseless! Maybe I'll take the advice of De Lanster and work a little head-messing of my own.

I feel like an idiot already...but hey, let the games begin.

I have been neglecting my blogsite...all because of that nasty, stinking, uncooperative computer in the office.
Schuuupes. But y'know what? I will try to rise above this minor obstacle and do what I know deep in my heart that I must do...blog anyway.

C.O.T.
My grandfather bought a slightly used luxery car...and is going around telling people, in all seriousness, that God wanted him to have this new car.
I find this train of thought ridiculous at best, and downright offensive at worst. I mean "God" just finished wiping out the entire island of Grenada, but wanted him to have a new car? When the old one was still working perfectly too??? Oh yeah, that makes sense. Y'know,I don't think he hears himself when he speaks, but there's just no arguing with old people.

C.O.T.
Well, our dance instructor made the formal announcement to the line dance team that I , Daanz, am to be the official "movement coach" for a section of a line dance routine! Gotta say...I feel kinda fussy.
And at the same time...a little worried...

Will the others like my suggestions?
Can I overcome my reluctance to boss people around?
Will the clumsier team members be able to master the moves I suggest?
And more importantly...will the whole thing look good???

I have reason to believe my car is haunted.

I'm not sure by who or what, but a couple nights ago, I was on the road, all alone in the car, when I felt something start to press down on the part of my car seat next to my right butt cheek.
Can you say "instant panic"?
My heart froze, my body tensed and my hands became iron vices, gripping the steering wheel, trying not to crash the car.
I stopped at the next traffic light, chucked the gear in park, pressed on the light, and whipped around to see...absolutely nothing, of course.
I guess seeing "nothing" is better than seeing a madman with a rusty cutlass, but I still wasn't completely calm.
It happened a couple more times after that, but I made myself ignore it, and it just went away.
It was as if the ghost was tryin' to cop a feel.

C.O.T.

I dunno 'bout other soap operas, but why is it that everytime a couple on Days Of Our Lives sleeps together, afterwards the guy looks happy and relaxed, and the chick looks pensive and mildly upset?

The past couple-a weeks have been a real doozy.

A guy I know was stabbed to death and I'm still kinda shocked. I don't even know what title to give him...he was more than an acquaintance, since we used to chill in the same circle, but he wasn't a close friend either. According to those close to him, he was probably the most "ready" to meet his maker, out of anyone they know. Before I type one of those cliches on death I think I'll change the topic.

C.O.T.
Then there was The Great Hurricane.
According to the law of averages, and the satellite tracking records, Ivan was meant for us. It was coming straight for us, and I for one, was worried. The whole Monday night I was trying to figure out what I should bother trying to save if our roof was destroyed. And I prayed, of course.
But then Ivan veered southward and all we got were storm conditions.

I didn't complain. I didn't feel cheated.
All I did was turn my face skyward and thank the Lord.
And then the news on the chaos in Grenada came in. We had been spared at their expense. I know it's not our fault but I can't help but feel a little guilty.
They need our help.
CBC Grenada Relief Fund
Bank of Nova Scotia
Account no. 9003497

Let's pray for Jamaica next.

Yesterday was SO un-Monday-like, that I just can't get over it.

I mean, it started out like your typical Monday: computer freaking out and refusing to boot up properly, debtors givin' me the run-around when I confronted 'em about their bills, etc...but then, it hit me...I was still the boss for one more day! I could do whatever the france I wanted!
And right then, what I wanted was to "bun de wuk" and head to the beach, cuz it was hotter than a tin foof on Mars yesterday.

And tha's just what I did too. I swung by for muh girl Lani, we suited up, then ran up in that beach so hard, it cried!

Oh...words can't describe what a fabulous day it was. The sky was an expanse of blue, and the water was calm, cool and clear. Everything was copacetic except, of course, for the treacherous sea-creature which disguised itself as an innocent piece of algae, and tried to do horrible things to my index finger.
We found our way back to our towels pretty quickly after that.

C.O.T.

If I had a million dollars and someone put a gun to my head and forced me to spend it as frivolously as possible, I'd build a t.v. station and host my own cooking show. And my own talk show. And my daily news segment. And if I ran out of news to report, I'd make it up as I went along.

Things I've learned this Weekend

1.) Dont judge a guy by his baby-blue tims. This guy was actually sweet, and kinda fun, even though he's extremely talkative and can't dance to save his life. Dating outside one's social circle can be quite an adventure.

2.) The over-40 generation can be JUST as annoying as the young crowd...especially if they come and set up camp RIGHT on top of you , as you sit quietly at the beach, reading your anthropology textbook.
I didn't mind the almost-constant chatter about whether or not one guy should go back home for his swimsuit....I didn't even mind that, of all the wide open space there was on the beach, these people chose my immediate surroundings...but I DID mind when they turned on the radio and blared Lil' Rick and the Guinness Rush hour all up in my earholes. Just when ya thought that mature, "boujie" types were somehow more well-mannered than the average joe, they go and pull suh'in like this.

3.) Oistins on Friday night is a groovy type-a flex.
It's like a big, free fete. I can't believe I took so long to go check it out.





Oh geez. They tell me to leave the young boys alone, but what happens if the young boys won't leave me alone?

Listen buddy, if you're really tryna impress me, don't:

1. Ask me why I didn't call you.
2. Admit that you see nothing wrong with tossing a bottle/chocolate wrapper on the street.
3. Go on about how gay "dem male gymnasses does look in dum tights"
4. Argue with me when I say I have to get off the phone cuz I'm tired.

C.O.T.

I finally got around to watching the movie "Love Actually", and lemme tellya, that film is dangerous. My Part B has been inspired (B for Bold this time), and now I feel like approaching random strangers (cute & male, of course), batting my eyelashes and askin' 'em if they wanna join me for coffee! I laughed and I cried and I enjoyed the hell outa this movie. When the credits rolled, I wondered with a sniffle, if it was really over.

This morning I got another omen: I opened a can of sardines, and there were 6 of the little suckers in there! The usual number is 4, and occasionally you'd get 5, but I've never heard of a sixer before.
I'm pretty sure this is good luck too.

C.O.T.
I don't find Kanye West to be a particularly handsome man, but there's just something about his face that makes me want to look at it....something there that draws my eye.

C.O.T.

If I were to strive to become an Olympic athlete, I think my main incentive (besides the prestige, the honour of repping my country, and the sense of personal achievement, of course) would be the after-party!
Imagine...an Olympic after-party... now THAT would be bashment.
I can just picture dibbing out with all the hottie swimmers and gymnast guys.

I gotta get my act together.

Today is a special day.

This morning I took a time out to play a lil' computer solitaire
(I always play three-card draw with Vegas style scoring. More challenging that way), and I won the very first game I played! What are the odds, especially with Vegas scoring!
I'm taking this as an omen of good fortune, and I shall be on the look out for any money or gifts that are no doubt coming my way.
Of course, I stopped playing Solitaire right away after that.
Y'know...don't wanna nullify my good luck omen.

C.O.T.

There's this song by the Dixie Chicks...I dunno what it's called, but it's about this young dude who's been drafted and is about to go off to a military camp.

He meets this young waitress in a diner and they get to talkin'.
He asks 'er if he can write letters to her while he's away, since he doesn't have anyone else to keep in touch with at home.
The girl agrees cuz, y'know...she's taken a liking to the guy. He was probably really sweet and all that.
Anyhow, so he's left for Vietnam and he's writin' her letters, tellin' her all about the was over there. Everything's cool for a while, until the letters stop coming.

Then the song tells about how a football game back in the town, is interrupted, by the guy on the P.A. system, who reads out a list of local Vietnam deaths. There was one name in particular that goes unnoticed by everyone except the young waitress (who happens to be the piccolo-player in the marching band).
The poor thing hides under the bleachers and cries her heart out for that guy.

That is the saddest song I've heard in the last couple years. Makes me cry everytime I hear it. Imagine meeting someone and makin' an almost instant connection, only to have them snatched away, for something as pointless as war.

Ladies, there's a moral to this...if the man you love is about to go off to fight for anyone's country, don't lag, grab the nearest cricket bat and break his leg.

Do it for love...do it for...oh, I can't do this anymore, I need a tissue.

Highlight of my Monday

That would be the milk & cookie break after lunch...hands down!

Of course, the fact that they were a surprise bonus to a visit from a handsome, broad-shouldered youth, definately helped in earning the "Hightlight of my Day" status!
Did I mention that he's a good hugger?

Raowr!

How is it that there are some people who
1.)see fit to pry into your personal affairs
2.)assess a situation without really knowing wha' goin' on...and finally
3.)go telling out ya bizness to the general public.

What does he want, attention? That idiot will get his comeuppance.

C.O.T.

Y'know...there are plenty of women out there would just love to have a guy to trail them like a backpocket everywhere they go, and drape himself all over them at every chance he gets, sending a message to all other guys in the vicinity to "keep walkin' buddy, this one's taken!"...so maybe I should just give up, quit running, and count my blessings.
But then my Part B tells me to stop being an "ignant beeyatch" and remind that dude that he is NOT my man, and to quit "blocking"!

Yeah..."B" stants for blunt sometimes.

This morning I was perusing a couple of wedding magazines, and I gotta say, the ads in these things are a trip. I mean, who really goes traipsing around woodland areas in all their bridal finery?

On Monday's episode of Days of Our Lives, Mike Horton proposed to his girlfriend, April Ramirez, and she said yes. They seemed so happy and excited (little do they know that Mike's ex-woman, Robin, is about to break the news to Mike, that about 5 yrs ago she had his illegitimate child).

Getting married just seems like such a hassle to me...all the preparatons....who to invite...even deciding on a dress...it all seems like a humongous chore.

I'm not even sure I really want to tie that big ol' knot anyhow.
But wait...I seem to be getting ahead of myself... I forgot about a fiance...I think one definately needs a fiance if one is thinking about getting hitched.
But hey, I could be wrong.
My Granny got married at 19, my Mum, at 22, so if there's any kinda trend goin' on here, this means that I've at least MET my potential future husband.

Now there's food for thought. Yikes.

Crop Over has come and gone...and despite the hullabaloo with the music, I found that this may just have been one of my best jump-ups yet! This season has definately affected me in a way that seasons past have not: I find that now, everytime I'm leaving the house, I get the urge to sprinkle myself with glitter...y'know...to feel "finished".

C.O.T.

It's rainy outside...reflective of my present pensive mood. I have reason to believe that any attention I had received from the beautiful young man, was only his attempt to gain contact with me, on behalf of his friend ! Bummer.
Yeah yeah, I know I said the saga was over before, but this time, I mean it! He's leaving and pretty soon my thoughts will become my own again, and I can get
over this minor obsession.

C.O.T.

I feel I need to walk a dog at the beach more often! People are so friendly when you have a dog! Talk about a babe-magnet!
Big up to bad dog like Gin and a bad woman like Lani who let me borrow him!

Let's hear it for point form!

• That Kadooment Day jump-up was too rastaman short!
• There was NO rain! Wassup with that?
• The area between my knees and my toes are mashed up. But I can take it because I...am a solj.
• People kept tiefing de water and drinks intended for the Baje dancers, AND
• Getting in our way while we were s'posed to be doin' our jobs as flag women and (you guessed it!) waving our flags!
• Not only was the beautiful young man jumping in my band, but he was in the section which matched my costume! Wow.

I saw him again as I was leavin' Spring Garden. He had already showered and returned, the fraud. He stopped to talk to me: "Well, this's the last time I'll see you before I leave next Tuesday."

I hugged him and told him it was very nice to have met him (understatement of the year), then he mumbled something which I didn't quite hear. I got the feeling that we both punked out. And then we parted ways. Probably forever.

And thus ends the mostly uneventful saga of Daana And The Beautiful Young Man.

C.O.T.

Last night, I dreamt I was lying on a big comfy bed ouside on my lawn, snuggled up between Peter Parker and Mary Jane. Only they didn't look anything like Toby McGuire and Kirsten Dunst. Anyway, we were all gazing up at the stars, and I remember thinking to myself
"Gee, I'll bet Peter and Mary Jane would rather be next to each other right now...but I'm so warm and comfy here between them...and I don't want to move anyhow, cuz Peter's cute!"

A couple minutes after this, Peter got up and moved over to MaryJane's side and turned his back to me. I found myself cold and alone.

What does it all mean?

It's Kadooment Eve....I've finished altering the bits and pieces to my costume, and while they could still use a lil' suh'in-suh'in, I'm feeling more comfortable with 'em.
They left us dancers with "sloppy seconds", but y'know what? It'll only make us stronger!!!



Okay...I'm starting to talk nonsense...I gotta go to sleep. Big day tomorrow!!
I must go forth and wukkup on the boy-children of Barbados!

Ahhhh...Crop Over.

I SHOULD be sleeping right now, but I had the urge to blog. Last night, I went to the last Baje International Band fete before Kadooment. Water spray, blue body paint, gorgeous fellas everywhere...what else IS there in life? When I left, my lower back was aching from all the wines and grinds I threw down.

I would like to make a few random comments about last night:

*A man near kill muh wid juk. Not that he was THAT good of a dancer, just that he was ramming me from behind like there was no tomorrow (on reading that back, it sounds a tad pornographic)! Why do guys DO that? It's not as much fun for us as they think.

*I was on lock-down for the first time in...gee, quite a while! It was flattering, yet somewhat of a hindrance.

* Drunk men just don't get it! How is my plan, to mess with that guy's head, EVER gonna work, if he's too drunk to notice??? After messin' with MY head so much, he has it friggin' coming!

A quote by N. Kukamunga:

Happiness is...not having your period on Kadooment Day.

Last night I found myself in the midst of a mix of dancers and musicians. I could almost taste the energy from the artistic aura in the room.
There's just something about African dance...maybe it's that one must use their entire body when performing....maybe it's the wild abandon of the dancers...maybe it's the drums....my lord...the drums.

I can't seem to describe the rhythm those guys were laying down last night. I remember one guy ringing a cowbell in there somewhere.

Man, that beat was so infectious, I couldn't help but move to it. And it just kept getting faster and stronger as the dance went on. It was absolutely seductive.
I sat in awe...my whole world filled with this beautiful, vibrant music, and that pounding movement.
I remember feeling very proud of my ancestry.
I was moved.

Y'know, they say that life is all about learning, and I'm glad to say that I've learned a couple things about myself this past weekend:

1.) ...that I'm not squeamish about entering, or standing up , or even dancing, in a fete alone, and I haven't been for a quite a while.

2.)...that I rather like being one of those doting females, squealing with delight at the antics of a handsome male performer onstage. I used to look at dem udda girls with disdain before, but y'know what? I tried it, and it's fun.

3.)......that I kinda suck at beach volleyball. I had THOUGHT I was average, but I was informed otherwise. I thought I was puttin' in some effort by diving for the ball often, but apparently that was just me being clumsy and falling over a lot.

 C.O.T.

Quote of the day: " I want strong coffee, and further more, I want ya to grind it like ya never ground it before."

The other day my darling Aunt reminded me of something which I have managed to forget for the most part.
Something which I try to disguise, by wearing outfits that draw attention away from the offending area and over to more aesthetically-pleasing regions.
Something, which I had buried deep in the recesses of my psyche for a little while until, of course, she slap-patted me on the right buttock and giggled

"Heehee! Such a flat botcy!"

I ignored the snickers of my Grandfather's housekeeper, and took it in stride.

My father was the one who first brought my mediocre booty to my attention, and at the time, it only served to lessen my fragile teenage self-image.

But I think the time has come for me to stop running from myself and just accept it...yes, I am a black woman with an uncharacteristically flat ass.
However, now I will make sure that whatever I lack in protrusion, I'll make up for, in enthusiasm.

I may be moved to write a poem about this sometime in the future.

I gave myself 24 hours, i.e., all of Thursday, to dwell on my misery, so now it's back up in the "sunny saddle" for me today!

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, heheh,) my plans to wallow in melancholy with Vin Deisel on a solo trip to the cinema, were thwarted when I ran into a certain HellRaiser. Suddenly, I found myself in the middle of a movie lime! Darn all wunna who made me be all happy and normal during my wallowing period! You people owe me 2 hrs of misery!

So tonight, I'm off to my favourite band fete to share a little joy, and shake a little booty! If I see this dude again, I'll flash 'im a smile and give an extra saucy flick of my skirt as I walk past.

Shot to fuck down

Rejected...again.

I
hate
this.

Little known fact about my house:

If one looks carefully enough, one can find at least one clothes-pin in every room.

C.O.T.

Great scott! That beautiful guy...I...I think he likes me! Why didn't I get his number???

C.O.T.
This topic is completely unrelated to the one above.

Some people can be SO disrespectful.
I'm walkin' along in "The Gap" with my brother the other night, and this raggedy car pulls up alongside us, full of what looks like rather unsavoury characters. They start asking "Da's you man?" and makin' comments like "He too small fa you baby! You needs someone more bigguh dan he!"
And THEN, the smooth guy in the passenger seat really lays down the charm:
"My friend, I would love to eat you...you would like da?"
And worse still: "Seriously, I cud get you numbah?"

BLEEEECCCHHHHHHHHH!

Last night I went to my first calypso tent: Virgin Atlantic Headliners!

It was bare kix,and hilarious as whoah, especially the M.C. for the night.
I think I'm in love with Andrew Pilgrim.
At some point during the show, before I knew what I was doin', I yelled out "Andrew, we love you!" Of course, the people who I was with, kinda shrunk back in their seats when he shaded his eyes, looked out into the audience asked "Wait, who's dat dat love me boh?" and I raised my hand.
Hee hee. Such a rush.

THEN I went to the Baje band fete which was groovy. And I ran into that beautiful guy again.
Oh, why must he puzzle me so? This time he talked to me willingly enough. Sorta. I notice that his lips seem looser after he's had a couple drinkies. Not very reassuring.
Again...I remind myself that I'm not chasing after him, cuz he's too unreadable...but at the same time, I can't help but be intrigued this odd behaviour.

Whatever.

Opinions, Observations and Assumptions

*I know quite a few big-headed people (I mean people who actually have big heads, not people who think too much of themselves).

*The "Cancel" button on the office printer is completely useless. No matter when, nor how many times, nor hor hard I press it, the wretched printer goes right ahead and prints anyway.

*One sounds like a rednecked, country-bumpkin when one calls the country Eye-raq, instead of Ee-raq.

*Pearls are "old lady" jewelery.

C.O.T.
Right this minute, I believe my thighs are suffering the worst case of muscle-boundedness they have ever suffered.
Why, I can barely walk...I have to kind of shuffle. Even driving hurts.
And, I'll confess, I'm not takin' it like a soldier either. I'm groaning and wincing and complaining bitterly with every step. And I'm loving every minute of it!

It's Sunday night, after b'room practice. I don't feel like goin' out, yet I don't feel much like sleeping either.

I feel like blogging. I'm in a weird kind of mood right now where I feel like opening my soul right here in my little web-nook, and I have to try very hard to restrain myself, and remind myself that other people read this. Maybe I"ll let myself ramble...

C.O.T.
My dance partner's ex-partner is back in BIM on holiday, and she came to class today so I had to share him. I'll admit it...now, once and for all: I do feel threatened by her. Geez, I hate sayinging that, but I also realise that there're benefits to facing your own human weaknesses.

It's not only that she's such a good dancer that bugs me, it's that she is so obviously an outsider and yet she makes no effort to adapt to our customs in class. This is a quality which I both admire and dislike.
She'll go right ahead doin' full-body warm-up stretches in tight short skirts...she'll go right ahead walking past everyone without speaking, heading straight for the furthest corner in the room,... and she'll go right ahead dancing even the crummiest line dance routines as if she's in a Broadway musical.

Maybe one day I'll be that uninhibited.

C.O.T.
I'm tryin' my damndest to keep from developing a crush on Mr. Push-up King. That'd do me no good whatsoever.

For just a fleeting moment, I was thinking about listening to my mischievous Part B who has recently been whispering things like
"If ya can't get your own man, get somebody else's!"
I think I've snapped out of it...for the most part.

Daana's Weekend Escapades

Friday>

I made the long and treacherous journey all the way up to Baku, for the Baje Int'l band launch. Ahhh, I love Crop-Over. I love seeing people dat ya don't see for ages and gettin' bare hugs and kisses!

Saturday>

Riddle: Why did Daana go to BoatYard? Answer: To dance. In the rain.

Good grief! That had to be THE wettest I've ever been in a fete! Despite torrential showers, the Moonshine Foam Fete was bare sport. So much choon....so much foam.
I have to admit, before this, I was feelin' a little off my rhythm, but I redeemed myself completely and got my booty-shakin' groove back!
And I met the most adorable little boy in de fete too. Heheh, playin' he tryin' to outjuk me? God bless his cute little cornrows.

Sunday>

McBrides, baby.
And who should step up in de place but that beautiful young man, who I just love to admire. Be still my heart.
Even though he gave me the brush-off last time, I was still glad to see him. I can be such a sucker for punishment.
Once again he was accompanied by his two bodyguards. I wonder if he pays them....cuz de men were on-duty fa sure!

*Sigh* And I'm still no better at understanding this boy.

My attempts at striking up a conversation with him were met with mostly one-word, lack-luster responses (even when I tried to break the ice with a couple of my corny comments), and yet, for the duration of the night I noticed that he was sneakin' peaks at me. What the heck is up with that boy?
Awright, so he's shy...I GOT that memo...but geez, if this is the problem, this boy takes shyness to a whole 'nother level that is WAY beyond my scope of perception!
He better get a clue.

And that was my weekend. Three nights...three fetes. I was quite the good little party-animal.

My weekend at Time Out In The Gap was just fabulous!
For the most part, I lounged in my room, simultaneously reading, watchin' t.v. and snackin' on peanut butter (yeah, I caved).
Now this may seem mind-numbingly boring to some folks, but to me, the complete, yet all too temporary, privacy was absolutely invigorating! I was completely alone, doin' whatever I wanted to do (which occasionally included bouncing on the queen-sized bed), nobody callin' my name for anything...it was magnificent.

I even went down and chilled by the pool with the tourist peops. I was the only black person there, and I have to admit, I was feelin' somewhat like a bronze goddess in a sea of pale skin.

And as far as I could tell I wasn't treated any differently from any other guests. The receptionist lady was nice.

Secret Agent Naolat pun de case.

Awright, so this weekend I check into one of the Gems of Barbados hotels, and I've made it my mission to see if I, a local, am treated differently to the guests from "over 'n' away".

I plan to be all up in the pool, the gym, and whatever other facilities they may try to hide from me.

This should be fun.

This morning I had a little chat with my family about our electricity bills. I have a little problem with 'em: they're too friggin' high! The bills, not my family.

I've suggested some ways to cut costs in that area, and they'd better not fall on deaf ears, or I will be forced to put my foot down!

Energy-Saving Tips

Minimize the number of times the fridge is opened by taking everything you need, out at the same time. This is tricky at first, but with a little planning, it'll work out.

For rastaman's sake, turn off all t.v.'s, fans, and radio's if you aren't usin' 'em! It's not rocket science, just press the "off" button when you're leavin' the room!

Try ironing everything you need for the week in one go. This'll seem like a humongous drag, but believe me, it'll be easier on your pocket. Or whoever's pocket the bill money comes from.

There's no need to run to the microwave if your food happens to drop half a degree from "burn-your-mouth" temperatures...just eat it! It won't poison you.

I've nominated myself the official Energy Police in my house, and my family WILL respect my authoritaw! (Who got that?)

Father's Day is nearly upon us, and the only gift ideas I have so far are speedo-style swim briefs, and/or a dvd.
Arrrgh! Why must he be so picky? I've learned the hard way about many gifts that my Dad just won't use.

Unsuitable Presents For My Father:
1.) black leather men's tote with shoulder strap
2.) framed "holographic" waterfall scene
3.) any cologne (he's allergic)
4.) cufflinks
5.) voucher for a para-sailing session
6.) any type of jewellery
7.) silk shirts (see #3)
8.) The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe
9.) A bunch-a other stuff which I can't recall right now.

Any tools or electronic devices/equiptment that he wants, he just goes out and buys himself without givin' us the slightest hint. Sigh.

I really gotta put some thought into this too, since he already thinks that we like Mum better than him.

Today's Personal Achievement

This morning I refrained from buying a jar of delicious, yet fattening peanut butter, and got 4 delicious, yet boring apples instead.
Whoopee.

C.O.T.

I can't believe I forgot!

Timmy spoke to Lani and me on Saturday night as he left Boatyard!
THE Timmy!
The same one who likes to ride minivans, and share out Courvoisier, and set fire to the backsides of Barbados!

The whole thing went down like this:

Timmy: You girls shouldn't have to walk out here to de car. Ya should have transP!
Me: But de car's right here!
Timmy: So de girls goin' home now den.
Me: Uh, yeh, iz 'bout dat time.

Not the most profound conversation, but still.
He's a lot taller than I imagined too.

I'm going to try to blog everday this week, even if I have nothing of substance to say.

C.O.T.

Occasionally, I find that my judgement of other people's actions may be somewhat harsh, and this tends to temper my own actions, ie. stop me from doin' things that my Part B might want to do.

For example, I refrained from goin' to a football match for the sole purpose of scoping out one-a the players, because if any other chick had done it, I would-a thought her a "man-hungry trick, with too much time on her hands".
Even reading that back I'm thinkin' "Yikes Daanz, tek it easy."

One-a these days I'll try ignoring that nagging little voice in my head (which sounds suspiciously like my father) and just "goin' with the flow"

Okay, I can admit...there IS something I don't quite like about ballroom.

I may have a small problem with the basic rule that the man is s'posed to do all the leading, while the woman does all the following.

Now if ya wanna get dramatic ( and I do, for this point especially), you can expand this to say that the woman must become a puppet on a string and react to the man's every whimsical lead!
Which I actually DO find myself doing since my sadistic dance partner is doing his best to "tame the shrew" on the dance floor. He knows that it irks me, and he enjoys every minute of it, because he knows that I can't really protest!

This is something which offends my sense of feminine independence (if I listen hard enough I can hear a chorus of male schupeses).

I know, I know...I need to get over this, and I will, on the dance floor anyhow.
But at least I can admit it.
They say that's the first step.

C.O.T.

Silly me...I was only fooling myself, I guess. I wasn't sure before, but now I know where we stand. I won't get melodramatic. I'll just move along smartly.
Back to the drawing board.

Right now I feel kinda energetic. Maybe it's the cup of coffee I had about an hour ago...or that I actually got enough sleep last night...or that it's rainy and cool on the outside. Y'know how this weather makes people frisky.
Anyhow, it's a great feeling...quite the opposite from how I felt yesterday, which was hazy and distracted.

C.O.T.

And now, may I present the lyrical stylings of Naolat Kukamunga!

X-Girl by N. Kukamunga

X-girl, X-girl
How I hate your guts.
You sound just like a super-hero
Yes, Champion of the sluts

Faster than a speeding ho
You alway beat me to him.
You wrangle him, entangle him,
Then shift, and leave just ruins.

How did you do that thing you did
That left him so bewitched?
And now, no matter how I try,
Can't seem to scratch his itch.

This doting fool you've left behind,
Can't seem to forget your face,
Even though you've done him wrong.
Such a pity. Such a waste.

He won't trust me because of you,
Ya dirty, triflin' skank
You're the ghost in his head, and the pain in my ass
And since I'm being frank,

I hate that you always get him first
You've read his body like a map
and when I feel I doin' suh'in new
You've always "Been there! Done that!".

Natasha, Jill, Elizabeth...
You have so many names,
But whatever form or shape you take,
It's always the same game.

I see right through your angel act
Doesn't matter what you're called,
To me, you're forever the "X-girl:
Most Hated Bitch Of All"

The End.

Dear Diary,

Last night I found myself in a kind of awkward scenario.

I was liming with a bunch-a peops, including Mr. Push-up King (let's call him P.K. for short, shall we) from previous blogs. His girlfriend was also present as usual and somehow the topic of conversation got around to my personality. And P.K.'s contribution was to start comparing me to his girlfriend, while she was sitting right there!
Listening to him, one would get the impression that I'm the Queen of Light, while she's the Princess of Darkness!
As flattering as that was for me, it still wasn't a cool thing for him to do.

I, of course laughed it off, as did everyone else, but she just kinda glared at him in that "no-nookie-for-you-tonight-buddy" kind of way.

Now this heffer is the jealous sort, and I ALREADY think she finds me annoying as it is, so NOW I get the feeling that I may have to keep my eyes open around her.

Lovely. Just lovely. Now I'm torn between 2 possible courses of action:

1.)Try to avoid talkin' to P.K. more than necessary out of respect for her boundaries, or
2.) Say to hell with her irrational jealousy and ask him to dance next time I see him (my Part B tends to prefer this option).

Oh, what the hell. This is their problem, not mine.

I must say this's been a fairly pleasant weekend, no major drama or anything. But then again...this is me I'm talkin' about. Major drama is just not a part of my life.

I finally went out on that movie date with the weirdo on Friday night. Afterwards I told him that I didn't feel any chemistry between us, and that we didn't seem to have much in common. He seemed cool with that.

However, the unexplained appearance of a hickey-like bruise on my neck the next morning leads me to believe that he may have drugged me at some point during the evening.

Geez, I really hope this is a rash.

Awright, I can't help it...I have GOT to share my thoughts on this.

The Ms. Universe Pageant.

From its title, I would've thought that this pageant would make more sense if it was representative of more universal or diverse standards of beauty.

But I swear, you could swap the heads around on all the contestants and, except for skin colour differences, the audience would be none the wiser! This is NOT diversity. Why are they trying to tell the world that only one body type is beautiful?

And now onto the hair: all the contestants seem to have this "long flowing tresses" thing goin' on...even the ones of African decent, for whom this style is unnaturally obtained. Is this a prerequisite for being considered "Ms.Universe" material?

I'll be behind these pageants when I see some sexy thick girls up there workin' it, alongside their slim sisters.
I'll be behind them when I see some elegant dreadlocks adorning the heads of a couple finalists.
I'll be behind them when I see some more contestants UNDER 5'10", for heaven's sake!


The other point that irks me about these things, is that it really exposes the cruelty in the average John/Jane Doe on-the-street. These girls are up on a pedestal for the whole WORLD to judge...and judged they are! Even the most unlikely people see fit to harshly tear into the contestants' appearances and highlight every perceived flaw.

"Look at she! She teet' too big!"
"You, she reaaal boney, doh!"
"Wait, but how she qualify tuh be in dis ting??"
"Uh-uhhhh, she dress look stink!"

Why are people so harsh? Does it make them feel better to point out the faults in others?
It makes me sick to hear it.

Okay, so I don't think anybody noticed anything different about me yesterday...boob-wise, that is. However, my shoulders are killing me right now, and I haven't figured out for sure if this is bra-related yet. Of course, it could be due to the "Battle Of The Sexes" tug o'war match I was involved in at the picnic yesterday.
My kingdom for a massage.

C.O.T.
Drunk people are so frigging annoying. I think from now on, I'll refuse to be introduced to anyone who's drunk at the time. It's pointless: they invariably make asses of themselves for their first impression, and they won't remember your name 3 minutes after you say it anyway.

*Daana rolls her eyes*

Today I'm goin' to a picnic and roadtesting my new Victoria Secrets strapless push-up bra. It's somewhat padded too. I wonder if anyone'll notice.
Oh, the thrills of new undies!

C.O.T.

I just love watching dancers. They all seem to have this inner peace about them...they're so comfortable with their bodies. They just exude this aura of confidence...as if they all belong to a special club with rules and rituals that ordinary folk can't even begin to understand. Even the way they walk across a room is different.

Most Interesting Observation Of The Week So Far

I've been reading the ingredients of a couple of the cheaper brands of that blue "icy" muscle rub stuff...and I've discovered that a few of them contain nonoxynol-9!
Now why would they put a spermicide in an ointment for achy-muscle relief?
Hmmmmmmmm
Perhaps I have stumbled upon something that runs deeper than anyone can imagine...

C.O.T.

I have to admit, living alone with my brother isn't as miserable as I thought it might be. He's actually more cooperative when the parents aren't around. Who woulda guessed.

I managed to wriggle out of my movie date. Phew.
I DID have a good reason though...I had to help work on some costumes for a performance on Sunday night! I realise that I really need to learn to sew. It would be so handy to be able to do more than just mend socks, hem skirts and attach buttons.
I'd step out de house looking like a black Paris Hilton every frikkin' day, dred! Only not as skinny.

C.O.T.

Starting today, my brother and I have the house to ourselves for the next week! That's right, de parents are off to New Orleans, the home of Mardis Gras! I warned my mother that I better not see her flashin' nuttin' on "Girls Gone Wild: The Over-40's Edition"
The more I think about it I shoulda warned my father too...he's got a rather disturbing exhibitionist streak in him.

Slight C.O.T.

My Dad has his annoying traits, but one thing I gotta admire about the man, is his stoicism! Pain just is NOT an issue for this guy! Last night, while frying some chicken, the oil spattered up and covered his entire hand!
(You know wha's ya whole hand covered in boiling oil???)

Dad didn't even gasp! He just walked quickly over to the sink and said "Somebody get me some ice-water." Meanwhile, Warren and I were running around like chickens without heads tryin' to get the ice for him as fast as we could! I mean, he always plays down any pain he may have, but he impressed the hell outa me that time, boy!
Cha, de same time he got burnt, an oil splatter, about the size of your average saliva golfball, had hit me in de backside, and even THAT little thing, made me squeal!
Props to Dad, a real macho man!

Wow, it's Thursday already...this week went faster than Lil Rick's waist at East Coast last year.

Man, I had such a grand ol' time LAST weekend, that I feel like getting out and being social again THIS weekend too!
Unfortunately, dance practice/performance will be taking up a big chunk of my party/lime schedule. Rats. JUST when I was gettin' the hang of it again.

Interestingly enough, I find myself with a movie date for this Friday night. A little voice inside me keeps whispering " Ammmm, y'know Daanz, this may not be such a good idea." But I can't help myself. After all, I DO wanna see this movie...so what if it's with that weirdo. As long as he doesn't try anything...odd, it should be okay.

C.O.T.

Daana's Tips For Good Livin'

Whenever you're takin' a shower, don't forget to pay special attention to all those oft-ignored nooks and crannies on your body. Ya never can tell where someone is planning on sticking their tongue!

Well...that sure was one heck of a birthday weekend.

The whole thing started on Thursday night. I went bar-hoppin' in the Gap wid my bro and my best friend who oversaw my endrunkenment. I don't think I'll be running THAT route again any time in the near future. I can handle bein' tipsy, but dat "drunk" ting ain' fuh me at all! Too much energy is spent making sure I neither do nor say anything stupid. One thing I've noticed is how much more attractive everyone else seems while under the affluence of incohol.

Friday night, I headed on over to Xtreme with my main mission being to hunt down Mr. Beautiful from last Saturday.
Pretty sad, I'll admit, but still not as sad as what happens later on.
This boy proved to be quite a challenging target. He reFUSED to stay put! All night long de man was walkin' up and down, in and out like he was on a frikkin' tour. And when his ass finally settled on spot for more than 5 minutes, he'd be talkin' to one girl or another. It was quite a draining experience.
Finally, I got to dance with him again...and then...it happened. The man pulled a "save me" manouvre on me!
Y'know, that move where you wanna get away from whoever's talkin'/dancin' with you, and you signal to your friend to save you by pretending to whisper in your ear about something important...

Talk about messin' with my head. I tellya, I just don't GET that dude. And I thought I was lookin' pretty cute that night too. Was he blind? Unfortunately, I still think he's fine. Ah well.

My Saturday turned out to be much better. Here're the highlights:

* Watching 2 yummy-lookin' young tings at de beach, glisten in the sun as they rubbed cocoa butter all over their torsos. Haha! I just love objectifying men!

* Dinner with a certain bunch of S.i.n.ners! Even though I was the only one who had boogie-fever, it was still a nice time! Thanks again Ana!

First of all, since I didn't get to go online yesterday, lemme take this opportunity right now to wish Lani Daisley a very Happy Birthday!! And remember girl, no matter what, you'll always be older than me! :)

C.O.T.

And now...I have something else to report...I...I don't even know how to begin, I'm just so pleased with myself!

First contact has been made, people!

That guy...that beautiful young man, whom I was so content to admire from afar at so many past fetes...finally asked me my name last night!
Those long, lingering looks definitely did not go unnoticed by him.

And we even got a chance to chat a little, despite regular interruptions by cock-blockers of both sexes!

As I suspected, he said he's kinda shy and he isn't much of dancer, which disappointed me a little until I asked
"So if I asked you to dance with me...would you?
To which he responded "Well, yeah!" Brutha man ain't too bad either!

Turns out he's leavin' to study soon, so it's a good thing I got to talk to him when I did.

See? My way of flirting may not always be the most obvious, nor may it achieve the fastest results, but I STILL got HIM to approach me first!
And THAT's what I wanted!

A world of seduction can be found in only a glance.

Wow. I just have nothin' but respect for Avril den. At first sight, I thought she was this weird lil' semi-rocker tomboy, but after I paid attention to her lyrics, I can't deny that the girl has a purpose.
Like I told Ana, the girl's lyrics are so real, it's like she's havin' a conversation.

Don't Tell Me - Avril Lavigne

You held my hand and walked me home, I know
Why you gave me the kiss, it was something like this, it made me go oh oh
You wiped my tears, got rid of all my fears, why did you have to go
Guess it wasn't enough to take up some of my love, guys are so hard to trust

Chorus
Did I not tell you that I'm not like that
Girl the one who gives it all away

Did you think that I was gonna give it up to you, this time
Did you think that it was somethin' I was gonna do, and cry
Don't try to tell me what to do, don't try to tell me what to say
You're better off that way

Don't think that your charm and the fact that your arm is now around my neck
Will get you into my pants, I'll have to kick your ass and make you never forget
I'm gonna ask you to stop, thought I liked you a lot, but I'm really upset
Get outta my head, get off of my bed, yeah that's what I said

Chorus

This guilt trip that you put on me won't mess me up cuz I've done no wrong
Any thoughts of you and me have gone away

Chrous

Better off that way
I'm better off alone anyway

That song right there, is gonna be a positive influence on SO many impressionable young girls.

C.O.T.
Oh, I figured out what the problem with o.b. was: too much friction!
The trick is to smother the damned things with lube! After that, it's smooooooooth sailing!

What IS it with old people??

Grandad: Hmm...I'm all out of orange juice.

*I don't look up from my newspaper as I didn't realise what he was hinting*

Grandad: Yes, I'm definately goin' to need some orange juice.

*I figure it out*

Me: Ok, want me to nip to de supermarket and get some?

*Grandad pretends not to hear me and instead keeps muttering to himself about having no o.j. for tomorrow morning*

*I keep reading my newspaper*

Grandad: Ok, so you'll go for it for me then?
Me: Sure.
Grandad: Wait...what car you drivin'? You have your mother's car?
Me: Um, no, I'd just use yours.
Grandad: No, no. I don't think so. Can't take the chance of gettin' it hit. I'll go for the juice myself.

What the frig was THAT about?? I offer to do HIM a favour, and he responds by insulting my driving skills??

Well, I never!

So I went to the cinema to check out Dawn Of The Dead...and it wasn't bad except for a few predictable moments when a couple of the main characters did something stupid like charge out into a crowd of zombies to save a dog, or hide a pregnant zombie-wife so that those mean non-zombie people wouldn't shoot her.

I STILL prefer 28 Days Later to D.O.T.D. though. Less comedy, more spine-chilling horror! Plus some sporty British accents.

C.O.T.
Well, I've done it again folks, developed one of my ridiculous minor crushes on yet another poor unsuspecting male. This time he's tall, dark and obnoxious. Thank god he has a woman already.

Things That Turn Me Off In A Dude (Especially If He's Trying To Chat Me Up):

1.) Indifference to the law, especially when it concerns his own safety.
Only bothering to put on his seat belt when hefeels like it? What the hell is that about? I hope he gets fined. Twice.

2.) Being an inconsiderate driver period.
Refusing to dim his lights for oncoming traffic tells A LOT about his personality.

3.) Making a habit of abrubtly changing the topic when I'm speaking.
Friggin' hell, this is just so rude and it shows that he really doesn't give a rat's ass what you have to say.

4.) Tryin' to guilt-trip me into callin' him.
Look, if I don't call him, it means that I didn't need to speak to him. Simple. Plus I don't see why I need to call him if he's the one doin' the pursuin'. Geez, I have other things to occupy my time.

5.) Makin' it all about him.
If a fella is tryin' to win me over, good grief, the last thing he should do is lecture me on everything that HE likes, and that HE knows, and that HE does, and that HE wants. It just won't work.
He needs to show ME that he finds me intriguing...that he wants to know about ME. Then, when I notice that I still don't know a damn thing about this guy, I in turn, become fascinated.

6.) Arrogance
Just because I show an interest in him, doesn't mean that he's the smoothest, mack-daddiest, most pimpin'-est playa in the game. No, for all the "skillz" he has, not one of 'em will do a damn thing, unless I'm feelin' that attraction to him from the get-go. Some fellas have this idea that if they "get" the girl, it's due to their irresistable "game".
To which I say no, it's because the girl ALREADY considered him and then decided to let him in...AND because he hasn't screwed up yet.
So he needs to stop feelin' so pleased with himself and get down on his kness and say "Thank you, Ma'am!"

Modesty in a man is SO sexy.

Mmm, this weekend was almost totally uneventful for me. I went almost nowhere, and did almost nothing!
And for once, I'm not disappointed in the least! I pampered myself from the tippety-top, right down to the tippety-bottom.
My family didn't get on each other nerves at all this time, but instead, we coexisted happily and even got in some quality time.
Can you say "Awwwwww."?

In fact, except for being called a liar, I'd say it was one of the most relaxing weekends I've had in a while.
I tellya, unbelievable.
I chalk it up to exam stress tho.

C.O.T.

This new printer we have here in the office is reaaaaallly testing my patience. But y'know what? I reFUSE to let it make me crazy...we just have to understand each other.

Attention Everybody! Don't panic. The following is a pretend-blog.
You know how I roll when I have nothin' to blog about.

Right, so yesterday I had the operation to replace my femur with a titanium alloy rod.
Yup, this baby's gonna be around long after the rest-a me becomes worm-food!
I'm gonna make all my friends start callin' me "Bionic Woman"!

Anyhow, I've been relocated to a public ward at the good ol' QEH, and cheezonbread, in here FULL of interesting characters!

On my right, there's a wrinkly old lady who complains every time I use my laptop, cringing in her bed and mumbling about all the "radar waves" it's givin' off. I ain' sure, but I think she has gall bladder problems.
On my left, there's a young gun-shot victim who thinks he's a real playa, talkin' 'bout "My friend, dem pajamas is fit you real sexy."
Whenever his crew comes to visit, I draw my partition curtain, and pretend to be sleeping. They scare me.

In the bed obliquely opposite to mine, there's this fat, middle-aged red guy dat keeps lookin' at me funny. I haven't heard him say a word since I've been here, and I have no idea wha's wrong with him, but everytime I look up, I catch him staring...THERE! He's doin' it again! Right now, as I type!

Can't wait to go home.

Give me a drinks-free Mardi Gras at BoatYard over a a regular Club Xtreme night, ANY day!!
Love me my open air, casual fetes man!

And let me just say...it's nice to be pursued.

Y'know, there comes a time for one to realise that no matter what ya do, ya can't make someone else care that you exist if they don't.

There've been certain fellas on my msn list that, despite my best efforts to strike up a conversation, never seem to find me any more interesting than a bowl of high-fibre cereal.
I guess I can't be mad at the idiots, after all, I gotta be honest with myself, there are some people on my list that I'd rather not speak to either.

The point is, I'm now ready to do a little MSN house-cleaning. Time to let go of the past, and share out a lil' B & D treatment (Block & Delete).

Yeah yeah, it's really easy for me to say I"m gonna move on and so much harder for me to do it.
One step at a time, I say.
Last week I cleaned out my closet, and all those old clothes I don't wear anymore, I either threw away or put 'em aside for a charity clothes drive.

That right there is a personal achievement.

Hey, maybe I'll clean up my Blog Buddy list too...got bare inactive blogsites 'bout de place man!

It's been a week since my last blog and I'm totally guilt-free.

A long, fabulous Easter weekend will do that for ya: erase all the negativity in your aura!

I tellya, this was the break I needed! Just like a weapon of mass destruction, my ass hit the beach hard!

Yesterday was somethin' else though. Not only did I manage to get that sun-kissed, "island-girl" skin tone, scope out the eye-candy, and socialize with the Lanster, but I ALSO slipped in an aerobic workout! Quite unintentionally, of course.

Yes, while attempting to enjoy a leisurely dip, I was accosted and manhandled by one of my brother's cheeky friends! Well, I never!

Actually, I kind of liked it, but I'd never tell him that. I'd never give him the satisfaction.

Hmm, now how to get him to manhandle me some more...

(Never mind my shoulders still ache from the first assault.)

Something's been on my mind recently, and I kept trying to tell myself that it doesn't bother me, but fuck that, it does.

Even though I told all of 'em well in advance, not ONE of my friends came to check for me at the competition (Lani, you're excused).
That hurt because I was stressed out about it for weeks and I coulda used a friendly face there...y'know...it's always nice to at least think that someone has your back.

Cha, I'm really disappointed in one person in particular. It wasn't too long ago that I found myself accompanying him to everything that interested him.
And now, he never finds the time to show any support whatsoever for something that means a lot to me.

What have we learned this time?: I was born alone and I will die alone. Don't depend on other people too much in the time between.

The Hair Chronicles

In an effort to reduce breakage in my hair, I've started sleeping with a satin scarf around my head. I've heard this works. We'll see.

C.O.T.

Found out that the Push-up King/Pep-Talker from ballroom, can also roll his belly. I've never seen a six-pack ripple like that before. Wow.

C.O.T.

My week's off to a good start!

I jumped outa bed this morning, running around like a chicken without a head, trying to get the garbage out in time for the truck.
I dunno, but I think they've installed new engines in those things. They USED to wake you up at 5:30 in the morning from a block away with that god-awful rumbling and you'd have plenty of time to get the garbage out without being seen in your nightie, but recently they've been cruising silently around the neighborhood, leaving ya to scramble!

So this morning I had to swallow my pride and take the trash out to the garbage men, in my full "Just-Fell-Outa-Bed" glory: nightie, head-tie, scrunched-up sleep-face and everything.

Then the garbage man said "Good morning, beautiful!"
Cha, gotta say, I felt good, even though it came from a guy who sees nothin' but smelly rubbish first thing in the morning.

Can't even say what he looked like...my eyes were still sleep-blurred!

Why couldn't he have apologised?
I put aside MY ego and said I was sorry....why couldn't he? What, he didn't think he did anything wrong?
He friggin' abandoned us 2 weeks before the competition, and suddenly he finds somethin' to bitch about?
And why, in the name of all rhyme and reason, couldn't he have talked to us about it PRIVATELY instead of trying to make it everybody else's business as well?

Maybe I'm the one who's wrong.

In fact, no! I'm NOT wrong! He's too old to be havin' ego trips!

Daana's Reminders: Having more grey hair than black, is NOT necessarily a sign of maturity or wisdom.

I fear that an evil force is trying to weasel its way into my life.
The thing is, I don't think he even realises that he's evil! I may have to clue the brother in.
He's been calling me for no apparent reason for the last couple days, and I'm very suspicious. Last night he called and started off the coversation with the usual small-talk: "How ya doin'?", "What're your plans for the night", etc.

Eventually, he get's to the point of the call:

Evil Force: So listen, I need you to do me a favour.
Me *eyes narrowed* :Uh,.....what?
Evil Force: Me and a couple guys are stranded. I need you to come pick us up in St.John.
Me: What???
Evil Force : Yeah, I just need a lift home. We're all really drunk.
Me: ****, I am NOT leavin' my house to go out in de middle-a nowhere to pick you and your friends up! What the hell happened to your friend's car?
Evil Force: Oh, all 4 tires got slashed. Right, so ya comin'?
Me: WHAT???? How did...? In fact, NO! Why the three-a y'all doan go and catch de bus???
Evil Force *whining*: The bus? Naw man, tha'd decrease our pimp status. Look, here's the mission...ready to hear the mission? (Mission?)
Me: ****, be serious. Look, I goin' to bed.
Evil Force: Ok, I guess I frigged that up. G'night, talk to ya later.

Schuuupes, the nerve of him...actin' like we on DAT kinda level. I don't think that's the last I've heard of him.

C.O.T.

And now,
The Highlight Of My Day So Far:

On the spur of the moment, I treated myself to a water massage on a Hydrobed!
Mmm-mm, and it was good! It tickles a little bit when the pressure is applied to the buttocks area, but nothin' I couldn't handle!
Got up feelin' TOTALLY relaxed. In fact, so relaxed was I, that I couldn't get rid of my goofy smile nor walk in a straight line, for a good couple minutes afterwards.
And I didn't even have to take my clothes off.

Had an encounter with that weirdo "cultural officer" again. He said my collarbones "aren't happening".
Now what the heck is THAT s'posed to mean?? As if I don't have enough to worry about without adding my collarbones to the list.
He also commented that my neck muscles could use some strengthening. He recommends that I find a partner and start kissing. Dear Lord, please don't let that be a come-on. I will run, screaming, if I detect even the slightest hint of a flirt from this man.

C.O.T.

Shane has apologised profusely for treating me like shit over the last two months, and has even given me a bomb-diggy present to show his appreciation for my refusal to let him give up!
I, in turn, have been the perfect example of a gracious partner and refrained from slapping him upside the head and yelling "I TOLD you so!!!"

All's well in Daanesville for the time being.

I can't believe it.
Shane and I are now the reigning Strictly Latin dance champions!
We won BOTH the advanced categories last night! When they announced the winners we just stood there for several seconds, eyes bugging and mouths agape. I'll bet we looked like real poppets. No-one was more surprised than us. I felt like crying.

I guess I was just remembering all the frustration Shane and I went through, much of which was because of someone who was s'posed to be on our side, but instead, we found out, was waiting for us to fail.

Turns out that some people are just sore losers though. Which brings me to:

The "Unsportsman-like Conduct Of The Night" Award

This award goes to that bitch who threw the pep bottle at us when we were announced as the winners. And to think, she was talkin' good with me before my category too! Ha! She musse was upset cuz she get eliminate in HER category! And to top it off, she bandy too, cuz she miss wid de bottle!


Oh, and special mention goes to whoever tief de matching panty part of my costume (AFTER I performed in it, mind you.).
I tellya, what a night.

Bloody hell...I'm nervous.
My stomache is alive with the fluttering of many, many butterflies.
And the worst thing is, I don't feel like I can share this with my partner because the boy does not care.
Man, if I'm like this now, I don't know how I'll manage tomorrow.
The more I think about this competition, the more I feel like throwing up.
I just know I'd feel better if I had a willing partner, after all, we do feed off each other's energy.

I find that I have to keep reminding myself to breathe.

Looks like none of my friends will be able to make it tomorrow night. Great.

Please Lord, make him come to his senses.

Geez, nothin' is quite as boring as listening to/watching parents marvelling over the antics of their young child. I hate having to feign interest.

C.O.T.
Only 2 or so more days to go....why is he doing this to me? I hope he plans to "bring it" on Saturday night.

Awright now...here's the Cliff Notes version of

My Weekend
Friday night:

Went to Club Xtreme (compliments of Lani) for the first time in, geez... I dunno how long. Wasn't bad at all except for my usual problem: the blasted smoke. I came out absolutely reeking!


Saturday:

Another exTREMEly frustrating practice session. and this time it wasn't because of my partner. Well not entirely, anyhow!
I was havin a dificult time catchin' on to the steps and our instructor really wasn't makin' it any easier for me. I felt like crying and screaming , but I held it in until I drove away afterwards. I really felt defeated...for a brief moment I was actually convinced that there was no WAY I could be ready for this competition. Not in 7 days!!
Thank the Lord this funk didn't last too long.

On a brighter note, I had a visitor! Nothin' like a little company to take your mind off your problems! This dude is the one person who isn't phased by how "far away" I live!

"Yeah," he says on the phone "I comin' 'cross by you now!" as if he lives on the other end of the street instead of the other end of the island! Gotta love 'im!

Sunday:

Man, this afternoon Shane and I were focused! We sequestered ourselves away from the rest of the class, and we went to work! We finally finished our cha-cha routine! Yes! Things are lookin' up! He still has his moody stints but I find that's only when other people are around! If it's just the two of us, he's cool. That boy is too much.
Anyhow, I really think we can do it! 6 days and counting.

Monday:

T minus 5 days 'til the big competition. Is that anxiety I feel in the pit of my stomach, or just hunger?

Letter to An Ex-Flam

Dear Vern,

It's been quite a while, and most of the time I can say I'm over you, but I realise that only seems to be true when I manage to forget that you even exist.
The fact that you're so over me that you can tell your friends it's ok to pursue me.....bothers me more than I thought it would!
YOU ditched ME....YOU'RE the one who's s'posed to be alone and miserable, filled with regret and lamenting over what an idiot you are. It would definately make me feel better if you were. But of course, you don't even care. I want so badly to hate you, but I can't even manage that because you're so fucking nice.

C.O.T.

Well! I cannot beLIEVE this boy!
What am I gonna do with my partner? Tell me, WHAT??
Now he doesn't want to do the competition at all? What the fuck is THAT all about? After I've had to put up with his sucky attitude for the past few months, he now wants to pull this crap???
I think he's tryin' to get rid of me! I mean, he MUST be! You'd think that after I had a little chat with him about his attitude, and he seemed to get my drift, that he'd cheer the hell up??? Noooo, apparently that seems to be too much for him to handle!
Well, y'know what? I refuse to let him steal my energy! I'm goin' thru with this thing in spite of his sour face. If he wants to bail out, he's gonna have to come right out and say so!

I flexed to the cinema the other night to check out Havana Nights: Dirty Dancing 2 and my God, it has inspired me in a whole new way!
Yes, my new goal in life is to hunt down Diego Luna and force him to be my love-slave.

Oh but seriously, I dunno if it was the Cuban accents, or the HOTT nightclub scenes, but I was lovin' it. Makes ya wanna grind on somebody (hee hee).
I still Like Dirty Dancing 1 better, but this one ranks up there too.
Whoah yeah, tha's my kinda movie; can't go wrong with a little dancin' & romancin'!

*Sigh* I hate it when I get so wrapped up in a movie, that after it ends I feel hollow, like a chunk of my soul got ripped out.
I need to see this movie again, like I need my next rack of barbequed spare ribs.

C.O.T.

Turns out that Mr. Pep Talk from the other night, is also Mr. Push-up King! My boy was down on de ground last night doin' all kinda pushups : "knuckle-jumps", "one-handed", and "buxom-dance-partner-sitting-on-your-back" !
Damn! I was impressed!
I guess that explains his broad, muscular upper body which he can't seem to hide, even under those oversize t-shirts...

Breathe Daana,... breathe.

Last night I had a rather frustrating practice session...y'know, the kind where you and your partner don't feel like having anything to do with each other?

Well, I needed a break so I headed outside to cool off and clear my head. One of the newer guys followed me out, sat next to me and asked
"So, how's it going"

"Frustratingly slowly" I replied tensely.
"I can see that" he said, "That's why I came to talk to you."

And then we chatted. He gave me a pep talk, and it really cheered me up.
His openness caught me off-guard since, as I mentioned before, he's one of the NEWER members and, we haven't established anything more than a "general small-talk" type of relationship. Not that pep-talks are common among the more familiar members either! It was just so unexpected, and I was very touched by his gesture.
People don't realise it, but the little things one does, can leave a big impression on others.
He seems so much older than he is.

Little does he know, but he's got a friend in me. Hope I'll have the opportunity to repay his kindness.

I give my weekend a nice even 8 out of a possible 10.

Yup, it wasn't bad at all. Spent all Saturday morning doin' laundry and scrubbing the shower. I tellya, that there burns some serious calories, but no matter how hard I scrub, I can never seem to get it as clean as Mum can!
I feel de woman does sneak a professional in to do it, while everybody watchin' t.v.

Anyhow, that wasn't what earned the high Weekend Rating.

It was the night out wid de girls. We ate, we laughed and we "lick we mouts" (not me though...I rarely have anything to contribute in de way of juicy news cuz nobody friggin' tells me anything).

I vote for karaoke and pizza next time! And strippers.

C.O.T.

Last night I took in the Olympus double feature: Gothika/ House of The Dead.
Gothika was ok, but H.O.T.D. was high grade crap. A downright abomination. Do not watch this.

On the plus side, I was accompanied by a handsome young man who introduced me to the wonderful world of Cheesy Popcorn!

Cheesy Popcorn? Sounds Great! How do I get it?

1.) Go to cinema
2.) Buy box of popcorn
3.) Buy $1 cup of melted cheese
4.) Dump cheese on popcorn
5.) Dig in

Adds a delightfully gooey element to your movie-watching experience.

Woo!
Petey Pablo did a guest performance on BET's 106 & Park last night and during the interview afterwards, he took off his shirt to show all his 6 tatoos! Eeeeeeeek!
Brutha-man was lookin' MUCH buffer than in the video, and I was glued to my t.v.!

I still think he looks better in the video but he flexed his pecs for heaven's sake! A move garaunteed to make me blush and giggle like a 16 yr. old!

Cold doesn't do a damn thing for morning puffiness.

Not cold spoons, not cold cucumber slices, nothing. It just doesn't work. Not for ME anyway.

Had another "graveyard shift" practice session last night so I had the whole puffy eye thing goin' on this morning. Not pretty.

That creepy dance coach was there again (just when I thought I was safe), but he wasn't that creepy this time. He's just kinda eccentric, or as as he would put it, he has a distinct artistic personality.

"Oh hiiii!" he exclaimed as I approached the studio, "Y'know, I met your mother last week! She's so normal!"

(Huh?)

I decided that "Uh, thanks." was the best response.

He was QUITE disappointed and disgusted to learn that I 'm a meat-eater. He says he and his pals like to poke fun at meat-eaters. He says they point and snicker, and say "Oh, here come the cannibals!"

I'll admit, he stunned me with that one. *Sigh* Why must vegetarians be so corny (Get it? Get it?) ?

It just dawned on me that this is the second blog entry I've made about this character.
Dear lord, if I develop a crush on this person, I will kill myself.

Spare Rib Lover signing out.

I don't know how and I don't know when, but someone unexpected has somehow stumbled across my blogsite!
Accident or other wise,... I wonder....
Hmm, verrrrrrrrrry suspicious!

He's probably reading these words all like now! Are ya? Huh?

I like to keep my everyday contacts separate from my blog, but it looks like they're mingling a little more each day.

I'll try to refrain from censoring myself any more than usual.

C.O.T.

Y'know, I find there's something very sensual about drinking from a glass bottle.
Especially when it's an alcoholic drink ( though it still works for stuff like malt ).

It must be the combination of sensations: the smooth, cool glass and the fizz of the carbonated drink against your lips and tongue, which are a serious erogenous zone, I must say.

And THAT my friends, is the real reason why I mostly say "No thanks, I don't need it in a cup."!

Yesterday marked one whole year since I started my blogsite! That's right! It's my Blogging Anniversary!! And up to now, it STILL sounds like a cuss word!

I should really take a moment to thank the person who introduced me to this thing in the first place: Marcus a.k.a. The Invisible Man.


I really think I'd like to celebrate this milestone in some way, even if I have to stick one-a those tiny birthday candles in my mashed potatoes (I can eat that! That's an UN-processed carb!)

My Ideal Blogging Anniversary Celebration:

A magical night of Taboo and Pictionary,
With everybody on my Blog links list ( plus some others),
Complete with a chocolate anniversary cake and tequila shots,
Punctuated by subtle flirting from my crush-of-the-week,
And a couple hearty smooches for good measure.

Yup, them there is some good times.

Nothing makes you appreciate having a car at your disposal, like having that luxury taken away from you.
And it IS a luxury.

I guess I'd been taking it for granted, and now I'm bein' taught a lesson. Cha den, I can't do ANYTHING now!

Take now for example...right this minute I'd like to be able to go and check out the $10 double feature at Olympus
(yes, I actually have a free night since my partner decide he ain' practisin'. Schuuupes.)
but can I just pick up and go??
Why nooooo! Because I don't have a car!

Awright, now I'm startin' to feel like a spoiled rich kid, whining about her many "hardships".
There're plenty of people who don't have cars...and they manage just fine.

Even though I had spare ribs for lunch, yesterday was a bad day for me.

My brother was being even more unreasonable than usually. He's turning into a miserable old man before his time and that worries me. He's becoming like Dad...bitching about tiny, inconsequential details and basically getting on everybody's damn nerves.
Yup, it's a Boys vs Girls thing in my household and I hate it. Mum & I are the sunny, easy-going ones, while Dad & Warren are the dark clouds of doom.

I'd say I was in a pensive kinda mood all day. I was reflecting on my life...comparing my views to those of others, coming to the conclusion all over again, that I must be alone, and getting more and more depressed. I tellya, it's disappointing.


And THEN I burnt a batch of chocolate chip cookies.


That was the last straw. I kinda broke down and quietly shed a few tears into my barbequed ribs. I tried not to let anyone notice, but then guess who patted me on the back, and offered comforting words?

My Dad. Yeah, he has his moments, I guess.

Ash Wednesday yesterday heralded the start of the Lenten season and I, Naolat Kukamunga (bet nobody knew that was my last name), the Queen of Self-Deprivation, will be giving up all forms of processed carbohydrates. That's right, no macaronie pie, no toasted cheese sandwiches and CERTAINLY no caramel blondies! .

I ain't scurred tho, I've done this sorta thing before. 40 days ain' nattin!

C.O.T.

The secret phrase is...

"The chicken can stay."

First person to say this to my face gets a free lollipop.

At last, I have some evidence of personal growth to record!
I think I can finally say that my taste in men is truly ecclectic, and that I can appreciate the beauty in any type!

I can say this since I've developed a crush on Petey Pablo!
I've chosen to look at this in a positive light instead of admitting that I think I've lost my damn mind.
For the first time in my life, I find attractive, someone who fits into the African American, gangsta-rapper, hoochie-mama-lovin' mold.
That voice...those lips.

I can't believe I'm sayin' this, but those platinum teeth covers (or whatever they're called) really work for him.
Dear Lord, what's happening to me?


Freek-A-Leek - Petey Pablo

24, 34, 46, good and thick, and once you get it she'll work wit it.
Put a face and some cute lips, earing and a tongue and she'll know what to do wit it.
Make a name for herself, and she do her shit well, and know how to keep her business to herself.
Come over anytime a nigga call chick, 1 o'clock, 2 o'clock, (ding dong) and she right there.
And she know why she came here, and she know where her clothes suppose to be (off and over there).
Sniff a little coke, take a little x, smoke a little weed, drink a little bit.
I need a girl that I can freak wit,
and wanna try shit, and ain't scared of a big dick.
And love to get her pussy licked,
by another bitch, cus I ain't drunk enough to do that.

[Chorus:]
FREAKALEEK!
(Do you like it daddy?) Shameka
Keisha
(Do you like it daddy?) Tara
FREAKALEEK!
Shonda
(Do you like it daddy?) Sabrina
Crystal
(Do you like it daddy?)Daronda
FREAKALEEK!
Theresa
(Do you like it daddy?) Falicia
Tenisha
(Do you like it daddy?) Sharon
FREAKALEEK!
Monica
(Do you like it daddy?) Monique
Christina
(Do you like it daddy?) Yolanda

[Verse Two:]
I need to know a whole lot then to teachin' a broad, with my ding dong make her tongue tickin the bong.
Go on ahead so I dont have to do that far, I'm spoiled (and I don't like to work that hard).
I like to lay back, relax, and enjoy my time, and let your eyes roll back and my toes curl.
(I love when you do that girl) Until it comes time for me to have to give her hers.
Tell me what you want, do you want it missionary with your feet cramed into the head board?
Do you want it from the back with your face in the pillow so you can
yell it loud if you want to?
Do you want it on the floor? Do you want it on the chair?
Do you want it over here? Do you want it over there?
Do you want it in ya pussy? Do you want it in ya ass?
I'll give you anything you can handle!

Not the most enlightening lyrics out there, but the song has a catchy beat.

Suppose there's this thing that *Tawneesha is not s'posed to do, and she, like a good girl, refrains from doing it...how can one tell whether she refrained because
a) she knew it was the wrong thing to do, or
b) she just plain chickened out despite the fact that she really wanted to ?

And would the reasoning behind her non-action really matter as long as she did the right thing?
DOES the ends really justify the means?

Boy, I'm getting really philosophical here.

I just KNEW that quasi-b!tch had her eye on my dance partner! I know he's not my property, but she knows bloody well that we have a competiton to train for, and THEN sneaks (yes SNEAKS, cuz she wasn't planning on telling anybody much less ME) and commits him to performing in some other dance show with her???

Why, I oughta jump-kick that uppity heifer in the mouth! It wouldn't be that hard to do either cuz she's short.
And what about him? When was he planning on mentioning it to me?

Why do I feel like I just got horned?

Ladies and gentlemen, I have reason to believe I have a wierdo on my tail.
Not literally-speaking, of course, but the guy is just too odd for me.
I DID give him a fair chance, but after discovering that he's a closet-freak, I backed WAY off. Thing is, he keeps callin' me.

I guess I'm to blame for not tellin' the dude straight that I'm no longer interested, (more fuel for Govan's endless "Women" complaints) but good grief, if the object of my affection never returns my calls, never makes any effort to see me, and never even sounds particularly enthusiastic to hear from me, I would take the hint, big time!

So why can't he? I'm not worried though. I'll be a woman and just break it to him in person.

How could I have ever considered The Closet-Freak over my Muppet (a.k.a. "Him")?

V-Day has come and gone, and I'm still here in one piece.

I was rudely awakened by a wrong number on my cell phone...then I spent the morning doin' laundry...then I went to belly dancing class with Lani!!

No question, that was THE highlight of my day! Can't beat a good hip-rollin' session!

After that, I had to work for a couple hours. And then I spent the rest of the time alone at home. I'll admit, I nearly lost it there...so I gave up and went to sleep.
Hmmph, soon V-Day will be MY day!

C.O.T.

Webcams are officially my favourite piece of tecnology right now!! Anything that enables me to see my Muppet while he's thousands of miles away, is ALL that and bag of Caramel Blondies!