Well, my partner and I are being coerced into dancing in the classics category for the competition tomorrow, after he had finally seen things my way and agreed that we wouldn't enter. The latin we can handle, no problem...but we just don't seem to be able to gel for the tango, quickstep etc. The anxiety is starting to seep in.

Great, now I gotta look for a decent dress...oh yeah, AND I have to glue sequins on my latin costume which was only finished half an hour ago. I hope my hair goes a pretty silver from this stress, instead of boring old grey.

Anyhow, it's
The IDTA Regional Dance Classics 2005
(my first competition for the year)
Sat. Oct. 15th
The Sir Garfield Sobers Gym
5pm (but the adults categories won't be on until a lil later...maybe 6:30)
$40

Come one, come all! And ladies, the Plaited Macker is competing too! Step right up!

My Interpretation of “Air on a G String” by Johann Sebastian Bach.

Contrary its sporty sounding title (how could the composer have possibly known?), the composition itself communicates a sadness to me.

When I listen to it, I get mental video stream of a person (the protagonist’s role in my vision isn’t gender-specific) wandering aimlessly through a darkened woodland area, and happening upon a clearing of some sort. S/he stops to rest on a rock…or maybe at the base of a tree… and starts to reflect upon a lost love.

The piece imparts a particularly deep and hopeless sense of mourning to me, so I’m picturing that maybe the loved one had died before s/he had made his/her feelings known. I picture this person putting his/her face in his/her hands and, finally being able to let his/her guard down in the privacy of the lonely woods, quietly allowing the mask to crumble, and the tears to flow freely. I’m getting that this person is enveloped by a profound and almost debilitating feeling of heartbreak, yet is trying to suppress it somehow.

It really is a beautiful piece. Quite moving.

Well! It looks like I may have caused trouble, for a certain off-limits man, with his girlfriend! That'll serve him right for not telling me upfront that he was "taken".

I sent him a birthday txt message the other night in which I referred to to him by a risqué term of endearment. What I got in return was the mysterious response: “I will make sure he has a very happy one”,and I haven’t received a txt msg from him since!

Wow, I wonder if she confiscated his phone...Ha! I have to admit,I feel quite…wicked and somewhat proud of myself! Of course, I have nothing against this girl, but I gotta say, I don't mind flirting with her man occasionally. I guess that officially makes me a bad person. Hold on, could this be...my elusive Part B???

A friend of mine has a totally unique perspective on this thing: he says for all one knows, that “taken” person could be the greatest love of your life, so you should always give it a shot. While that philosophy is wickedly appealing, it just seems to be an excuse to do as one pleases with no regard for the feelings of others. And if we all did that, I’m sure the murder rate around here would sky-rocket.

I could never go after someone else's man; afterall, it just isn't polite.
Why, if I wanted a cookie, I wouldn't rudely snatch one from a perfect stranger while she was eating it, I'd go get my own, for Emily's sake!

Etiquette is everything.

What am I gonna do with this guy? Is he crazy?

He KNOWS these classics routines are giving me hell and that the competition is in less than two weeks. I suggested that maybe if I can't grasp 'em before that time, that we do more basic routines.
His response was a defiant "I don't do basics. We're dancing it. We'll muddle through it if we have to."

Me: But see, you're not the one having trouble with the routine. You'll be gliding around and I'll be the one messing up and looking horrible on the floor.
Him: Yup, that's your problem.
Me: *expression of disbelief* And you're perfectly ok with that idea...?
Him: Yup.

That was when I just turned my back and walked away. I couldn't even look at him, I was so angry.
Does the concept of a partnership mean nothing to him? Does he really believe he's dancing alone out there?

Maybe I should've stayed and talked it out with him, at least I could have salvaged the night's practice session...but right then I just wanted to get as far away from him as possible.

Sigh. I'll deal with it at tonight's practice, which incidentally, I've cancelled a date, to attend. Gotta make it worthwhile.

This blog is dedicated to my 3 cousins with whom I've recently been re-acquainted!

In years past I've heard total horror stories about them, but now that I've finally met 'em, I'm absolutely delighted to have such strapping and interesting young men in my family!

Derek is the eldest. He's a whizz at repairing wonky stereo sets, cracks the corniest jokes you've ever heard, and can talk the ear off a chicken, which as one can imagine, takes a helluva lotta talking. Don't let 'im get you in a corner.

Martin is the second boy...well, man since they're all over 30. He's 6'5", 200+ lbs, and he's got a booming voice that matches his stature perfectly! He's like a young, black, trash-talkin' Santa Clause.

And Stephen is the last. He's the black sheep of the family...he's the "cool" one. He's quiet, plays the guitar in a band, has earings and tatoos and rides a motorcyle.

The only thing I'm not so crazy about is that all three of 'em smoke.

Ah well, they're family...can't disown for that. I guess.


It's nice to have three big "brothers"! Here's to the boys!

Well, our performance at the NIFCA prelims sucked big-time. I have no doubt that it’s mostly because we didn’t practice as we should’ve.
Dammit, I REMINDED him more than once that we needed to go through the routines, but all he did was belittle my efforts, and tell me I was worrying too much! Hmph. I hope we don’t make it to the semis. That’d be one less thing for me to worry about.

The one judges’ comment that DID strike a nerve with me though, was that apparently they noticed the lack of connection between us. I knew exactly what they meant, but I had hoped I was hiding it well enough that it’d be unnoticeable. I guess not.
The truth is our connection is not a natural one at all. We both know we have nothing in common, and we never socialize outside of dance. How can we be expected to connect on the dance floor with nothing to base it on? Sometimes I feel trapped. I’m supposed to love this, but right now it feels like a chore.

One technique for showing the appropriate emotion for each dance is to draw on your own life. experiences e.g. if you’re not attracted to your dance partner, picture your S.O. during the performance.
Awright, so now I have a legitimate reason to trap myself a man: my dancing depends on it!

C.O.T.

Speaking of man-trapping, as I was rushing to get to the changing rooms before our try-out, who should I run into but the handsome young man whose contact info I was too shy to try to obtain a few weeks ago at the BoatYard.
I’m embarrassed to say that I lagged once again, this time being too rushed and frazzled to concentrate on romantic endeavors. Oh, but he DID lean in and give me a kiss on the cheek and a little hug. *dreamy sigh* He was there to pick up his sister (oh, he has siblings! I love a man with siblings!). Thank heavens he left before our awful show.

I'll definately get at least an email address next time I see 'im! For sure!

They will NEVER stop digging up the road along the south coast. NEVER.

Someone in authority obviously has reason to believe there's buried treasure around here and they won't stop until they find it!
That's the only explanation I can come up with.

Maybe all Ch. Ch. residents should chip in about $5 each, put the money in an antique wooden box, and bury it somewhere under the road in Maxwell.
Maybe when the treasure hunters find it, they'll be happy and finally stop with all this infernal digging!

This's what it has come to: paying off the government, to STOP the roadworks.

C.O.T.

My Dad called me a prude! ME!! When HE's the one who squirmed in his chair during "Girlfriends" the other night, when the theme of the episode was, for all we could tell "How We Like Our Sex". He usually chuckles at the punchlines, but he suddenly turned silent as the grave when the "s" word was first uttered.
If I hadn't been so darn uncomfortable myself, I woulda laughed at him.

Joan got busy with her new man for the first time and apparently he sucked (figuratively, not literally) so she was talkin' it over with the girls.
Maya demonstrated how she likes her man to whisper her name; Lyn only had one man that was no good years ago, but now wants to give 'im another go a it; and....I can't remember what Toni's contribution to the whole discussion was.
Oh, how I love girl talk.

But back to this prude thing though, why would a father think it's a bad thing for his daughter to be a prude??? Not that I am one, but I thought that would be a father's dream! Dang... it's a serious situation if one's own FATHER thinks one is too conservative.


I may need to rectify this. Off to find a complete stranger to make out with. Again.

I have an announcement to make: I seem to have my first self-declared blogsite fan!
A tall, debonaire young dude too, not bad!


One the one hand, I AM kinda flattered ( blushing and grinning like a sheep is SO embarrassing)....but on the other, I suspect he may have been drinking.

Wait, he's probably reading this.

I hope he realises that now I'm going to be quite self-concious, and his attention may affect my blogging whether I want it too or not!!!

Actually, the same thing happens when I'm dancing in a party. If everybody's boogieing on down and I'm blending in with the crowd, I feel free to really get jiggy with it....BUT, the moment I notice some dude over by the bar is doing nasty things to me with his eyes, I lose focus on the beat for just a moment. I wonder if my bra strap is showing. I hope my butt doesn't look too wierd. I discreetly make sure my fly is up. It becomes more of a performance instead of just me, "grooving in de fete".

I don't mind 'em looking...just that I'd rather have the illusion that they're not! Less pressure and more booty-shakin' that way!


Heheh, this blog was dedicated to my surprise blogsite fan: K.B. (not sure if he wants his name plastered on here! *Hint: He family to Shelly!)
I'll think about the book suggestion!

Wow...it feels like I've officially been left behind.

All my friends have scattered: Reshma's in Indonesia, Norman's in Atlanta, Sophie's in England, Tasha's in Japan, and now Lani's in Trinidad.
It's just me now. I can't help but feel like I'm stagnating here.
Seems like every fella I develop an interest in doesn't live here either.

Is all of this some kind of sign? Am I s'posed to take a trip outa here? What if I LIKE it here? Would that be so bad?

Man.

There are cave people walking among us.

I STILL say that good manners and the ability to communicate effectively, are what separates us from the animals. Well...that, and the fact that we don't sniff each others butts (as frequently).

Don't people realise that how one speaks and addresses others will influence how one is perceived??
I can't STAND when school children come into the shop and ask "Hammuch fuh dah dey?" with nary a "good evening" nor an "excuse me".
Even if their parents are cave people too, shouldn't they at least be learning the ways of civilisation in school?

Speaking of unusual behaviour, an old white dude with a cane, came in yesterday lookin' for a sympathy card. He caught sight of the jewellery in the counter and as he made his way over, he cheerfully exclaimed "Lemme look at dis bling bling over here!"

My my...urban vernacular sure does transcend boundaries of all kinds!

Went to Boatyard for the first time on a Friday. Well...a Frinight, anyway.

One difference, to the Saturnights or the Wednesnights that I've been to before, is that the crowd is a couple years older...and that ALL the men check you out. No matter what you look like, ALL the women get a lingering head-to-toe full-service checking out. It's a little un-nerving at first, but it does kinda do something for your ego. I think I may go back next Friday!

Once again I was reminded of something I don't like about myself: I am a big fat LAGGER!
Aw man! I am KICKING myself all now! Why didn't I ask for the digits...an email address...SOMETHING!! Why didn't I offer to teach him some moves after he told me I inspired him to learn to dance?? Apparently he was flirting with me, and I just didn't pick it up.
Where the hell is my inner femme fatale, dammit? Where is my rass Part B???

Lani's right. I need a slap.

It's a dark and quiet Thursday night here in Ealing Park. And hot too. I'm feeling quite restricted in these long jeans...hold up...I've GOT to change.
Ahhh, much better. I love sarongs. They're so versatile.

I've got the comp all to myself for the night. And I'm wondering what kinda net escapades I can get into.

Damn...the guy, with whom I was engaging in a little flirtatious repartée, has to leave.

Oh...but now here's that odd dude whom I just added from hi5. He seems like a jerk from his profile. I dunno why I added 'im.

My sweet tooth is aching right about now. I could do with some cookies n cream ice cream. Just as well that there's none around, I guess.

Hmm, this guy speaks spanish too. Interesting.

Good grief, the PussyCat Dolls just look like a bunch of supermodels.

Awright, this guy isn't so much of a jerk so far. Actually, his online manner is quite pleasant. Funny how first impressions can be.


*Listening to Khia's "My neck, my back" and sipping an ice-cold Smirnoff Ice*

This could get good. Woo, this stuff goes right to my head.

I can't believe Lani doesn't think Sean-Paul's hot in his new video. Why am I friends with her again? Oh yeah, cuz she bakes alot. Heehee. Just kidding Lani.

Man...I'm still hot.

I recently commented to my dance partner that we need to increase our practice sessions, but after last night, I'm just...not sure. I "hol' BARE blows" so to speak.

During a turn in the jive, he whacked the back of my head with his forearm. Now, my partner is by no means, a slight fellow; his arm is quite solid and the impact made my brain jiggle inside my skull. Had I not blinked at the same time, I'm sure at least one eyeball would've been knocked loose.

During the samba , and I won't point fingers here, but somebody managed to kick me in the already sore bunion, causing me to hobble away in search of a seat and swear in a most unlady-like manner.

During the rumba my body was stretched in ways it's not yet accustomed to. That sexy "love hurts" facial expression that goes with the rumba really comes out in that particular move...only it ain't the love that's hurtin'.

I have cherry-like bruise on my knee where I banged it on the floor doing a "walking split" in the paso doble.

My body is pained and drained, used and bruised, achy and shakey...and I can only expect more of the same tonight.

Three words....bring it on.

I think I broke my ass a little at practice this evening. Boy, do I need a massage.

It's just one-a those Mondays.

A no-smile kinda day...

A day where you nearly buss ya ass tripping over the shoes that YOU left in the middle of the hallway, so you have no-one to blame but yourself.

A day in which you are screamed at for accidentally eating half of someone else's pop tart, even when you replace it with half of your own.

A day where an important cd mysteriously explodes inside your cd-rom disk drive in the office. No wait...that was Thursday.

Anyhow...here's to Tuesday.

Awright, here's the deal.

The majority of my buddies at my dance studio are goin' on a 10 day group trip, of which the highlight is a 7-day cruise! Those lucky buggers.

I'm under pressure now to have a ludicrous amount of fun while they're gone, so as to compensate for my inability to join them! Man, I just KNOW the stories they'll bring back will be absolute torture for me, so I need some experiences of my own to be able to remember with a smirk.

My fun must begin from tomorrow night at the very latest. Suggestions are welcome and indeed requested.

Had a date last night ...and it was less than thrilling to say the least.

Guys, if you've always wanted to treat your date like a piece of meat but never knew how, pay attention to the following tips:

7 Surefire Ways To Make Your Date Feel Like A Ho

1.) Ignore her dating suggestions and instead suggest going to the drive-in when a cheesy double feature is showing. Yeah, it'll be obvious what you really wanna do.

2.) Make no attempt at conversation except to answer her get-2-know-u questions as briefly as possible.

3.) Cut your date off when she's talking to make it clear that you aren't interested in anything that comes out of her mouth.

4.) Constantly attempt to make out with your date while she's trying to actually watch the movies.

5.) After the movies are over, ignore the yawns of your obviously tired date, and suggest that the two of you make a well-known park-out spot, your next stop.

6.) After she drops you home, call out to her "Next time you should really come inside." as she's hurriedly exiting your driveway. This'll really bring the message home to her about your plans.

7.) Make sure to follow these steps on the first date, otherwise the "date-cheapening" effect may be lessened.


I'm quite disappoined and disgusted.

My aunt took a trip and left her car at our house with a full tank of gas.
Mwah-ha-ha-ha-haaaaaaa!

Now I'm not one to freak over big rides or anything, but despite my otherwise sensible nature, I DO admit that I feel quite fussy cruisin' around in a BMW, or a "bumwuh" as I affectionately call it.
The doors are heavy and gives one the feeling that one is opening the hatch of a space shuttle. Sweeeeet.

The only minor hitch was is that all the controls are switched over to the opposite side of what I'm used to. So whenever I attempt to flash my lights at an oncoming vehicle to allow them to turn in front of me, I end up squirting the windshield instead.
I will miss this.

C.O.T.

You know Kadooment day has finally left your system when you can pass a big bottle of glitter and not get the urge to sprinkle some on.
I'm still fighting it.

The Baje Thank U fete was jumpin' last night! What Harbour Lights what.

Now as much as I had a great time and all, there is STILL a couple of things to report that just ain't right.

1.) Skanks keep stealing my men.
It happened twice last night. A fella would come and chat me up, but then, out of the corner of his eye, he'd catch a glimpse of said skanks holding up their already meager skirts and flashing partygoers with their sequined panties, and he'd just drift off in mid-sentence, walking over to them as if in a trance.

Now, I can't blame a moth for being attracted to a flame, but geez, would you believe that after the hypnotique spell of the Glitter Pooch Show had faded, the fellas had the gall to come back over to me and ask for my digits? Riiiiight. As if I hadn't seen 'em turn into mindless hyenas, drooling with unbridled lust at the first (second and third)glimpse of ass cheek.
Show a little discretion, good god.

And 2.) As I was leaving, some idiot girl burned a patch of skin off my wrist with her rasshole cigarette! She shouldn't even be smoking in the first place! Had the pain not distracted me so much, I would've had the presence of mind to at least smack the offensive thing out of her hand and stomp it out, if not smack her upside her idiot head! The anger only kicked in on the drive home.

You know what is burning off a patch of skin with a cigarette??? That shit hurts!!

I'm trying to be understanding, and calm...but I'm really starting to dislike smokers. The more you think about it, they really are inconsiderate bastards. They pollute OTHER PEOPLE's air!
Can't wait for this ignorance to be banned.

Well, I'm feelin' good, feelin' great today and I have no idea why. I mean, there's no such thing as an LSD Fairy, is there?

Come to think of it, I may just have an idea why I'm so perky today: my horoscope was pretty encouraging yesterday, and while I don't really believe in horoscopes, the power of suggestion is a helluva thing.

C.O.T.

Just some random things that I've recently developed/renewed an appreciation for:

*Tans. Ever notice how the darker one's skin, the whiter one's teeth look!
*Peanut Punch smoothies from the Shake Shak in Julia's Nutrition Centre. Feels like a sin to drink the whole thing without sharing at least one sip with another human being.
*Clean, dry socks.
*Trees. Nothin' like a big tree on a blistering Kadooment day. Not only can you wukkup on it, but it gives you blessed, cooling shade as a bonus.