(no subject)
Thanks to Andy for posting these pics for me, as I'm too technologically retarded (or disinterested) to do it myself. Andy was so kind as to caption the pictures for me as well, and I hereby relinquish myself from responsibility for any damage, real or perceived, that may result from the capricious use of his wit.
My swing dancing partner and I strike a cheesy pose at the recital. He was wearing the hat to hide his male pattern baldness. He's only 23 but he looks 32 (or 28 with a drinking problem). I didn't actually write all this, it was my bitter ex-husband, who likes to write such things about nice, innocent young men. Okay, he's not bitter, but he likes to write such things. Here's something I did write, though: If Seth looks disgruntled in the picture, it's only because I wouldn't let him do "jazz hands" at the recital. (Seth likes to show off his jazz hands at every possible opportunity - he's a real ham!) Immediately after the picture was taken, the zombie in the white shirt (right side of the picture) ate the brains, paltry though they were, out of the girl in the pink top. On Seth's left side, note that the girl in the red wasn't actually a dancer, just some drunk that stumbled on to the floor. The guy in the red shirt was part of the plain clothes security detail assigned to protect "Cat" (not pictured), the well trained, but robotic eyed latin dancer. Her moves are real, but she is not. . .(a thinly veiled reference to the tagline advertising that movie "AI" for those among you with a memory problem)
My look of disdain and incredulity results from the slack jawed expression on your face as you observe the beauty of me in my spiffy wing tip tap dancing shoes. Or I can't believe I even allow you to look at me. I spit on your grave, your dog, and the homeless person that you refuse to give change to. This is really out of character, eh?
Tonight, when I went to my "Dances of Mexico" class, my teacher told us that we'd be heading over to the ASU Art Museum for the evening. Apparently, there was a Brazilian art exhibit and lecture tonight, and the curator of the show had called to see if my teacher and our class would come over and bust a move after the lecture - sort of an impromptu performance. So, we went, not quite knowing what to expect, seeing as we haven't done any dancing from that region in class. They had a group of musicians there performing Carnaval style drum rythms (which were REALLY cool). My teacher demonstrated the dance moves and we jumped in and followed along. The style of dancing was really different than anything we've done in class - faster, looser, more funky, definitely more African influenced. It was sooooo much fun! I had a blast. I'm really hoping to take more dance classes after this semester - I'm hooked!
My swing dancing partner and I strike a cheesy pose at the recital. He was wearing the hat to hide his male pattern baldness. He's only 23 but he looks 32 (or 28 with a drinking problem). I didn't actually write all this, it was my bitter ex-husband, who likes to write such things about nice, innocent young men. Okay, he's not bitter, but he likes to write such things. Here's something I did write, though: If Seth looks disgruntled in the picture, it's only because I wouldn't let him do "jazz hands" at the recital. (Seth likes to show off his jazz hands at every possible opportunity - he's a real ham!) Immediately after the picture was taken, the zombie in the white shirt (right side of the picture) ate the brains, paltry though they were, out of the girl in the pink top. On Seth's left side, note that the girl in the red wasn't actually a dancer, just some drunk that stumbled on to the floor. The guy in the red shirt was part of the plain clothes security detail assigned to protect "Cat" (not pictured), the well trained, but robotic eyed latin dancer. Her moves are real, but she is not. . .(a thinly veiled reference to the tagline advertising that movie "AI" for those among you with a memory problem)
My look of disdain and incredulity results from the slack jawed expression on your face as you observe the beauty of me in my spiffy wing tip tap dancing shoes. Or I can't believe I even allow you to look at me. I spit on your grave, your dog, and the homeless person that you refuse to give change to. This is really out of character, eh?
Tonight, when I went to my "Dances of Mexico" class, my teacher told us that we'd be heading over to the ASU Art Museum for the evening. Apparently, there was a Brazilian art exhibit and lecture tonight, and the curator of the show had called to see if my teacher and our class would come over and bust a move after the lecture - sort of an impromptu performance. So, we went, not quite knowing what to expect, seeing as we haven't done any dancing from that region in class. They had a group of musicians there performing Carnaval style drum rythms (which were REALLY cool). My teacher demonstrated the dance moves and we jumped in and followed along. The style of dancing was really different than anything we've done in class - faster, looser, more funky, definitely more African influenced. It was sooooo much fun! I had a blast. I'm really hoping to take more dance classes after this semester - I'm hooked!