Marla and I are going to take ballroom dancing lessons beginning on Thursday. She's convinced this will be a great way to meet men...me, I'm not so sure but I've always wanted to learn, so it's all good.
Marla's my age and ultra feminine...she loves pink (in fact, most of her clothes are either pink, black, or a combination of pink and black). She aspires to accumulate more shoes than Imelda Marcos. Add a cute little girl voice, fluffy blond hair, voluptuous figure and an ever-so-slightly flirtatious girl-next-door personality...and maybe you will wonder, like I do, why she is still single.
Anyway, I have never taken dancing lessons, unless you count bellydance (which is a hoot but I don't know that I'd ever want to perform where other humans might see me do it -- it's bad enough when Pixie the wonderdog and Evil Wiley lie there and stare when I practice). My feet never want to do what I want them to do. Not only that, but I suffer from Directional Dyslexia. I first noticed this when I took aerobics lessons way back when...when told to turn left, well, sometimes that worked, and sometimes I was the only one facing the wrong way. Someone who directs while I drive is much better off if they point the direction...I once dated someone who really thought that pointing was about the rudest thing one could do, so he'd always say "left" or "right" if I were driving and he directing...and then get upset if I turned the wrong way. Whenever I wanted him to look at something, I'd use those lavish gestures Carol Marol used to use on the "Let's Make a Deal" show to indicate Door No. 1...and then he'd get bent out of shape. Hey, I was NOT pointing. Yeah, that next guy (if there is a next guy) really needs to have a sense of humor about things.
So anyway, it ought to be fun in a train wreck sort of way...
Oh, and today I am thankful for my brother Steve, who has turned out to be a pretty cool guy.
Vague ramblings by me, behavioral med/research nurse extraordinaire, widely-collected artist (OK, so I've only sold 4 paintings) and ebay queen. Delve into the life of a not-so-average, overweight, over-the-hill single mom...such crazy excitement (yeah, right)!
About Me
- Jodie
- My mom says, "Jodie, I never know what you'll do next!". I guess I'm a pretty traditional person in a lot of ways but I sure seem to have a more twisty life path than most people.
7 comments:
My wife, Kathy, is similarly directionally challenged. She has an elegant get-out, however. If she tells me to turn right and I do and it's the wrong way, she'll say, "No, no, the other right..."
I love dancing lessons, but frankly, not a lot of straight men go to dancing lessons, at least not without their wives, so I don't see it as a great way to meet men! At all!
Gone, it's nice to know I'm not the only one!
Jay, that's what I think too! But it ought to be fun anyway. :)
Keef, did you see William Shatner in the last few episodes of Star Trek when he started getting a little, um, chubby? I could have dispensed with the lycra for him at that point...:D
All great posts, Jodie. Blog has not allowed me here in awhile, so it was a joy to catch up. :)
I don't dance. White people should not even try. And, John Travolta is not a white person.
Shatner is well-suited to his present role in Boston Legal. Hearing him steadfastly repeating his name to any and all, or yelling out "Coo-coo for Coco Puffs!" at mobs of reporters keeps me functional.
I'd dance if I could just get my left foot to learn the steps. Which left foot, you ask...?
As regards William Shatber's version of Star Trek: the caption read "Captain Kirk makes out". Even the robot lady fell in love with him, but she probably appreciated his robotic acting.
As for lycra and Star Trek, let me just say this. Patrick Stewart. Nuff said.
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