This is...unexpected. Private Ryan seems to be doing everything right...or to be more accurate, not doing anything wrong. I usually blog about all the odd or unpleasant experiences with potential romantic interests, but this time it's different.

Wow...this is almost scary. (Very much in-keeping with the Halloween theme if you're into that sorta thing. Hahaha).

I almost don't know how to react since it's been so long. It may be time to unearth the romantic buried so deep inside me.

This is so very very unusual for me. I feel like Alice about to go down a rabbit hole.

Time to take a deep breath and see where this goes.

Geez, it's been a while. My thoughts are all over the place, so my blog may reflect this somewhat!


Right now I'm in zombie-mode, pretty much just going through my everyday routine because I'm too tired to resist or change. Shooting tv shows in the middle of the night is taking a toll on me.

C.O.T.

It seems I've caught the eye of a young soldier boy. I'll refer to him from now on as Private Ryan. Haha, this should be good. I wonder how long it'll be before I can tell him to drop and gimme 20! *rubs hands and laughs evilly*
I'll admit, he DOES demonstrate some odd behaviour occasionally, but then again...who doesn't?
He actually bit my nails the other night, which, as one can imagine, caught me totally offguard (I thought that biting OTHER people's nails was only something you do after the third date at least!).

I snatched my hand away, and looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Did you just bite my nails?"
"Yeah," he replied matter-of-factly "you have nice nails."

I realise that I have this tendency to try to be polite and not freak out when someone does something a little...off.

Right, so there'll be very little hand-holding in the near future for the Private.

C.O.T.

Well, our rumba routine made it through to the NIFCA finals, but not our samba. While I'm not exactly surprised, I AM a little disappointed. The samba is so much more lively and fun. Plus in the samba, I don't have the pressure of pretending I'm in love with someone who won't even help me up after he accidentally drops me on my back during a lift that went wrong. :-S

My partner and I placed 2nd in the advanced classics, and we won the advanced Latin category. However I must point out that there were only two couples competing in each! Oh well! It’s over now, and for that I feel relief. Next up: NIFCA semi-finals with the samba, and that blasted rumba.

A couple of things had me feeling somewhat off-centre at the end of the evening:

1.) When I’m going to compete or perform, I make sure I bring every thing I’ll need: makeup, water, safety pins, paper towels, scissors, stockings etc.

Why is it that SO many other-wise sensible girls and women come to perform COMPLETELY unprepared??
Are they children, or capable adults???
This one wants to borrow my red lipstick, the other wants my safety pins, and yet another has NO idea how to put on any sort of makeup, and pleads with me to do hers when I'm s'posed to be getting ready myself! They don't walk with hairgel, they're USELESS with eyeshadow, and they all want to use MY stuff!! I call them the Dressing Room Leeches! Why, you'd think they'd never done this before!

And 2.) There is something to be said for winning graciously. The attitude of one female competitor (and also a friend of mine) left a bitter taste in my mouth.

She practised SO hard for weeks before the competition with her main goal being to beat out another specific entrant against whom she has a personal vendetta (I didn't agree with her incentive, but whatever gets her going, I s'pose).
Her costume was hot, and she looked great on the floor.
She and her partner won their category...but afterwards all she could do was bitch about the crappy prize with which she was awarded in addition to her trophy!
I couldn't believe it. She frikkin' WON, and instead of basking in her glory for at LEAST that night, she demonstrated the most ungracious attitude I have ever seen, ESPECIALLY in a first time competitor!
She was acting like a prima donna, and I was completely turned off.

I'm the first one to admit that the prizes ARE indeed crappy for this competition, but it IS a new event, and it's a work in progress.


This is the same girl who often remarks with disdain about my mostly cheerful demeanor...as if it's something to be looked down upon.

Actually, it's surprising how often a negative response is given to a sunny attitude.

What the hell IS it about general positivity that makes people so uncomfortable?

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.