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

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

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

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

Boy would that come in handy.

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

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

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

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

C.O.T.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let the randomness fly!!!

C.O.T.

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

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

C.O.T.

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

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

C.O.T.

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

C.O.T.

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



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

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

So today's motto is:

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

C.O.T.

I could use some chocolate chip cookies about now.

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

One summary of my weekend, comin' right up!

Friday's Highs:

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

Friday's Lows:

• The cold shoulder I detected from my partner.

Saturday's Highs:

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

Saturday's Lows:

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

Sunday's Highs:

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

Sunday's Lows:

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

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

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

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

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


Or maybe it's just my imagination.

Can anybody tell my why:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's not for me.

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

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

C.O.T.

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

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

C.O.T.

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

C.O.T.

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

Maybe I'm next.

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

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

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

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

Slight C.O.T.

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

do I smell a mack move comin' on?

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?