Today was Day 3 of my vacation, and I've been doing
a whole lotta nothin'!
So far I've made a beaded anklet, practiced chords on
the guitar, sunbathed au natural in the backyard, made
pholourie and Jell-O (not together), caught up on some reading, and of course
watched t.v.
I've got plans to make it to the beach sometime too. Here's to bumming!

C.O.T.

Well, in the Genesis beginners class on Saturdays, the
sadistic part of me rather enjoys the nervous
reactions of a certain shaky-handed Trini, but in the Bailamos
beginners class on Sundays, I have to admit...the
tables have kinda turned on me a bit.

The corn-rowed dude with the ruddy complexion...he
seems to delight in making me squirm. I KNEW he'd be
trouble! He's friends with the Push-up King, and they
look like they could be made from the same mold. From
now on I shall refer to this new eye-candy as The
Plaited Macker.

When he needs my help with a certain move, he has no
qualms about stealing me away from another beginner, with the utmost smoothness and confidence, saying stuff like "Hey Daana, lemme take
advantage of you here for a bit", with a sly smile.
When I'm explaining a tecnique to him, he looks me
right in the eye and licks his lips.
I caught myself stuttering around him the other day.

This is not cool.

The other night I was at an informal practice session with three other couples, and we were attempting a certain swing move which entails the lady facing her partner, jumping up on him, putting her legs on either side of his mid-section, while he dips her down and her legs extend upwards, behind the man, up past his head.

Needless to say, my new dance partner was somewhat apprehensive about this move (though I think he was more concerned about his back, than he was about dropping me), so someone suggested I try it with Mr. Push-up King first.
Nothing describes that experience quite like the words "Yee-ha! Ride 'em cowboy!"
I was quickly reminded of how strong that guy is.

I gotta say, I rather like being picked up.

Stuff I'd Do If I Didn't Need To Sleep

* Transform my bedroom into the neat, organised sanctary that I'd like it to be.
* Get more practice on this guitar. I should be able to switch chords like a chordist by now, dammit! I'm lagging!
* Resume my weight-training. Death to fat!
* Catch up on my msn socialising.
* Learn to make a perfect pot of rice and peas
* Create some beaded jewellery.
* Catch up on some reading.
* Laundry

C.O.T.

Well, I must be having a "bougie" moment or something, cuz I don't get what the big deal is with this Tony Matterhorn guy.
First of all, I can't understand 50% of what comes outa his mouth...I guess that J'can accent just hasn't grown on me yet, and second, is he s'posed to be some kinda DJ God or suh'in? I haven't heard him do anything that somebody couldn't do.

The tall Trini tried to sneak outa the beginner's class this afternoon, but I got him to come back. He usually arrives a few minutes late and lingers in the doorway, lookin' like a shy little boy.
I dragged him on to the floor, made him put his arms around me and chacha with me. His hands were shaking again!
My my, could it be that I'M what's makin' him nervous? Wouldn't THAT be pure kix! If that's the case, then he's in for some trouble, cuz when girls smell fear, they run with it! Or maybe it's just me...

Heheh, and all that time I thought it was his cologne that smelled so nice!

I found myself pointing out to him that in ballroom, you don't use your mouth to communicate with your partner, but your body. He looked at the ground and gave a nervous little chuckle.

I love this.

I recently watched the entire labour and birth process on a Discovery Health. Those bastards showed everything, and I made myself watch it, muttering to myself the whole time "this is educational...everyone should know the basics of childbirth."
Now, I'm scarred for life.

As the soon-to-be mother grimaced with each contraction, I crossed my legs tighter and tighter as if I'd never uncross them again. And maybe I won't.

I like to preach to my brother about how it's a natural process, and there's nothing disgusting about it, but to be honest, I was absolutely revolted when they showed a close-up of the baby "crowning".
It was like a horror movie.
And when the baby finally got squeezed out, followed by a flood of ambiotic fluid (or maybe it was the placenta?) it looked like a mottled grey alien, covered in day-old cheese sauce.

Even visualising that again for this blog has set my heart a beat faster, and a queasiness in my stomache.

I can admit it...it scared the hell outa me.

See, in theory, the creation of life, and having a child to continue on after you, is all fine and dandy, but the actual physical pregnacy and birth???

That is some messed up ish right there.

Once again my thighs are killing me, not to mention my lower back, and now my forearms.
A guy on my MSN list reminded me that the pain is just the weakness leaving the body.
I love that. Weakness, be gone!

C.O.T.

Did I mention I met and shook hands with Mr. Festus Mogae, the President of Botwana, last Wednesday?

C.O.T.

My suspicions have been confirmed.
There's a certain Wicked Witch of the West in the dance community that has either conciously or subconciously, engineered the estrangement between my (ex?) dance partner and myself.
I don't know what kind of hold she has over him, but she seems to have made him her pet, and he's staying far away from me.
There're speculations as to what her master plan is, but that will only come to light at Strictly Latin 2k5. The more I think about it, the more outraged I become, but I have to try hard not to stoop to her manipulative, conniving, underhanded, and flat-out dangerous, behaviour.

She'll get what's coming to her.

I now bestow upon myself the esteemed title of Weekend Warrior! Raaaaaaarrrrr!

My itinerary was as follows:

Fri. 8pm: Dance rehearsal for show in April.

Sat. 4pm: Assist in beginners classes at Genesis Dance Studio (I decided that Mr. Trini Shakyhands isn't gay...no self-respecting homosexual man would dress like a 12 yr. old boy.)

Sat. 6pm: Coach fitness pageant girls on dance/movement/performance tecniques.
There's this one girl who acts like it hurts her to smile. From the minute I saw her, I sensed she would be a challenge. She even refused to take part in one excercise. I WILL break her. Uh...I mean, get her to open up.

Sat. 8:30 pm: Dance rehearsal for cultural presentation for the visiting President of Botswana, on Wed.

Sun. 7 am: Beach training. Each individual muscle in my ass and thighs are currently tellin' me 'bout my mudda.

Sun. 2:30pm: Assist in beginners classes at Bailamos Dance Studio. One dude in particular makes it all worthwhile: 6 ft tall, broad shoulders, muscular arms, impishly handsome face, skin the colour of an antique clay pot, easy-going personable manner, and actually owns a pair of dress shoes, yet maintains his thug appeal (corn rows, y'all!). Gotta stay away from him, boh...he could be trouble.

Sun. 5pm: my own dance class at Genesis Dance Studio.

Sun. 7:30pm: See Sat. 8:30pm.

So much for R & R!

I am now in the process of familiarizing myself with the notes of the fourth guitar string!
D-E-F, baby!
Here's a list of the songs which I've mastered (well, one verse, that is):

Rockin' Robin
Yankee Doodle
Aura Lee
Ode To Joy
For He's a Jolly Good Fellow
And a couple others of which I can't remember the names.

C.O.T.

Where the heck is Moontown???

I've been having some rather unusual dreams lately. Some just odd, but some downright demonic and perverse. I'm getting a little worried actually, and I've upped my bedtime prayers. I may have to sprinkle salt around my bed and/or sleep with a crucifix or something.

C.O.T.

Today's Earth Lover Tip:

Carpool, or take public transport.
I know I myself am guilty of wanting the convenience of car rides here, thither and yon, but I'm willing to put a little extra effort into this too. Plus catchin' a ZR puts you more "in touch" (heheh) with your fellow Bajan, and adds a little spice to an otherwise humdrum day!

(Note: "spice" may sometimes mean "conductor vs. passenger in a cuss-out war", but doan dig nuttin, unless said passenger is you.)

C.O.T.

My least favourite strength-training excercise is the bench press. I find the only thing that gets me through it, is if I psych myself up by referring to the bar and weights, as my "bitches".

And heeeeeeeeeeeeeere's Valentine's Day!
I've decided to give into my natural inclinations, and be festive instead of trying to ignore the season, or even worse, wearing black from head to toe!
My red attire today is as follows: a sleeveless polo shirt, a groovy hippy ring, a beaded bracelet and dramatic crimson lipstick.
I wish I had a big red hibiscus flower to put in my hair.

C.O.T.

Well...it looks like I have a new dance partner. Not sure if I'm entirely happy about it, since it feels kinda like an arranged marriage. He's a cool guy and all, but I'm not sure what kinda "on-the-dancefloor" chemistry we'll present and I think I'm slightly taller than him in my 3" heels.
This will definately take some getting used to. In the meantime, I'll have go into this with all the positive vibes I can muster.

Here's to change.

Today's Earth Lover Tip:

Take your own bags to the supermarket. You can re-use your plastic bags from the last time, or make use of that big green bag/sack that your Aunt gave you for Xmas, that you probably weren't gonna use for anything else.
Think of all the plastic you'll be conserving!

C.O.T.
What happened to us? We used to be fairly cool together, and now I'm getting the feeling he's trying to phase me out of his life completely! I didn't do anything to justify his coldness so how can I help feeling as though I'm being betrayed in some way??
Shit, I didn't even know he was taking salsa classes, and he KNOWS I'd be interested in doing that! It's almost as if he was doin' it behind my back! He's not bound to me in any way, and I'm not trying to cling to him, that's for damn sure, but I thought we could at least have mutual respect, and open communication. Looks like that's too much to ask. That punk.
He won't even do me the courtesy of calling me to let me know when we have a meeting.
I'm tired of confronting him about his attitude.
Even if he doesn't leave, it still looks like goodbye.
I hate that it's like this. This sucks.

How do the powers that be, expect people to do the right thing, and try to maintain a healthy lifestyle when even at the lowest level, everything seems against you?? For example, a golden delicious apple costs $1.20 and a 16 pc. sandwich cookie package costs $0.79.
This is absurd.

C.O.T.

Today, being Ash Wednesday and all, marks the start of the Lenten season. Shame on me, I had no idea. A kindly old lady, in search of Easter cards, had to point this out to me.
I'd like to give up something...I really would, but I can't make up my mind on exactly what.

Sugar's a good choice, but I dunno if I can manage that, since I've discovered Lillifield Mudslides. Oh man, this drink makes me wanna talk dirty.
So...salad dressing it is.

C.O.T.
I've noticed that Buckleys gives me a slight buzz. I'm feelin' quite groovy right about now.

For some reason, which I can't seem to put my finger on right now. I'm getting the feeling that Mr. Trini Shaky-Hands from the beginners class could quite possibly be homosexual. Of course I could be way off too.

I'll be looking into the matter.

C.O.T.

Today's Earth Lover Tip:
Now this one takes balls/ovaries: quit wasting so much water by running the shower 'til it gets warm: Just take that cold water like a thug! Helpful hint: I find that if you do an all-over body jiggle/shimmy while entering the cold water quickly, you don't feel it as much. Cussing loudly may help too.

Now for another Earth Lover Tip (dedicated to Marcus):

Pee in the shower! This'll save at least a flush a day!

C.O.T.

Valentine's Day is comin' up. I'm undecided upon whether to ignore it completely, or be festive and celebrate it despite the fact that no tengo un amante en mi vida. I still have a week to decide.

Schuupes, I never get to do all those cute, romantic things on Valentine's Day, so I feel sorry for the guy who ends up with me around any future February 14th's! *big grin* It'll be late night beach picnics, hand-fed chocolates and hot oil massages galore! The works!
And now that I'm learning to play the guitar, he'll be in for a big stinkin' serenade, whether he wants to hear it or not!

Cheers to all the closet-romantics out there.

Our environment is going, or according to many scientists, has gone, to hell in a handbasket.

We're all guilty of choosing convenience (or in the case of the U.S. gov't, money) over a healthier planet, but the time for this luxury is long over.

Occasionally, I'll be posting some tips to help anyone who Always Wanted To Do The Right Thing But Was Too Afraid To Ask How.

Today's Earth Lover Tip:

It will take some planning, but iron all your clothes for the week in one go. This saves serious moolah on the electric bill. Not that I benefit, cuz my mother refuses to cooperate on this. I WILL break her tho...just a matter of time.

C.O.T.

I just love that show The Dog Whisperer with Cesar Milan. Check it out on National Geographic, weekdays at 7pm. Cesar is an absolute genius! Plus he looks like a cute little puppy himself.

Highlight of my weekend:

At the beginners class, Saturday afternoon, my dance instructor made a gangly, light-eyed Trini dance with me since he wasn't getting the steps right.
The poor boy's hands were shaking for the first 15 minutes or so! It was so darn cute.

I'm happy to say that my calm, easy manner (heheh) soothed his nerves and he seemed to relax a bit. In true Trini fashion, he joked about how much easier it was to jump and wave a flag.

After a while, he discovered his flip flops were hindering his movements, so he removed them.
Soon after, he unclipped his cellphone, and put aside his wallet.

"Hey, if anything else is getting in the way of your cha-cha-cha, feel free to take it off!" I said, half-joking.

Unfortunately, he didn't take the hint.

Ya's gotta spell everything out for these guys nowadays, boy.


C.O.T.

It's funny how much easier learning to play an instrument is, when you do it of your own free-will, than when you're strongly "encouraged" to do so by authority figures. Then again, I suppose that goes for everything.

I KNEW there was a reason I like going into town!

Yesterday, our dear capital was positively awash with fetching young men. Charming Fed-exers here, dapper business types there, sporty young tourists over yonder,... and all so friendly!

Even the miniature cutie in the shoe-repair place threw down a smooth move in slipping me his number along with my receipt.
I have GOT to try that some time.


Yup, it was a good day.

I'm an idiot. I wasted time being scared to make a play for a total hottie and now I think it may be too late.

What the hell was wrong with me? How could I have been so dumb?
I was blind, that's for sure, and I'll admit, maybe a little shy too.

He flirted shamelessly with me, and all I could muster were unenthusiastic responses.
I guess I can't blame him for being discouraged.

I took it for granted that he'd be there if I happened to change my fickle, immature mind, but now it looks like he has grown tired of my coyness, and moved on to greener pastures.

I made too much of it. It didn't have to be a big deal, it could have just been a seasonal romance, a beautiful fling to satisfy our curiosity, but I overanalysed the situation.
I made excuses not to be attracted to him: his head's too big, he's got a dorky name, his voice sounds feminine....

What I didn't realise was that those descriptions would no longer apply to him, once I had been exposed to his true colours:

He's intelligent, handsome, polite, fun-loving, focused, athletic, talented, rhythmic (he can dance, y'all!), and undeniably sexy.

I messed up big time. But maybe, just maybe, I can fix this.

Where the hell's my push-up bra?


*You've been reading an excerpt from my upcoming novel entitled The Origin of The Femme Fatale

Last night I took the 1st steps towards becoming a bad-ass guitar-chick: I cut my nails down to the quick, and got Dad to show me chords C, F, an G7.
I think he made up that last one cuz I've never heard of G7 before.
Oh well, I'll play along, I guess.
Of course, my fingers are rather sore right now. No doubt that in time, all this irritation will cause callouses on my fingertips, which I'm not too thrilled about, but that's a small price to pay for the reward of being able to bring the gift of beautiful music to those around me (who currently refer to it as "a bloody racket").

C.O.T.

And this week's "You Need A Hard Slap Upside The Head" Award goes to:

The all-natural, pseudo-rasta, vegetarian, don't-shave-nothing male, who likes his women in stilletto heels, tight clothing, and full make-up.
Schuuuupes.
Where do I find these guys?

I have decided that I want to learn to play the guitar. And be good at it.

C.O.T.

I watched Catwoman for the 1st time the other night, and it wasn't as bad as all the reviews made it out to be. It was kinda inspiring actually. Makes me wanna get some leather and go seduce myself a cop.
Halle Berry is so darn cute, and that hip-swinging sauter she pulled off at the end of the movie: poetry in motion!!!