Last night I realized the only reason why I enjoy watching So You Think You Can Dance is because I Think I Can Dance. After a good Jive performance I sat smoking and thinking during the commercial break. Thinking and smoking. Good mental montages are hard to come by, but this one had me becoming the first woman to be eaten by her sofa cushions while laughing to herself. I had a memorable dance montage of recent memories consisting of:
1. spanking myself with one hand and fumbling with a pac man joystick with the other to Nu Shooz's "I Can't Wait".
2. throwing on a hula hoop and tripping over the rug at our most recent spaghetti party to "Push It".
3. the time fake tying my shoe and reading the paper became part of a dance at the Holiday Club to "Debaser".
And then I realized that every dance memory includes Kate. My only partner in what could only be described as a dance crime (and everything else) is leaving sometime within the next two months. I'm never gonna dance again. My feet aren't guilty, but they won't have rhythm until we're reunited on the dance floor... of emotion. Wait, now I'm just cheapening it.
Last paragraph brought to you by:
Love's Baby Soft I'm trying my hardest not to talk about how much I'll miss that old coot because I just read an extremely important article in the Red Eye about the negative effect crying at work has on your coworkers/employer. According to the article if I start to cry right now my coworkers will be scared to ask me to do anything because I am just that fragile.
"Hey...uhh, April."
"YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU'RE ANGRY WITH ME AREN'T YOU? I'M SOOOOOOOOOOOORRY FOR EXISTING!!!"
"No, I just wanted to know if you--"
"IF I WHAT? IF I NEED A TISSUE? IF I COULD USE MY TEARS TO WASH THIS YUKON AND SAVE A LITTLE MONEY ON THE USUAL HAND WASHING ROUTINE WE TAKE ADVANTAGE OF BY THE COMPANY ACROSS THE STREET? IF IT'S REALLY RAINING OUTSIDE OR IF IT'S LIKE MY FUCKING TEAR SUPPLY OR SOMETHING??!!!"
"--wanted ranch or balsamic on this chopped with chicken salad."
The little guy on the right and I are looking for an inexpensive place to live. I'm pretty much a dolly seeing as how I come complete with one cat and only a bedroom full of fun things. Keep an ear out for me if you can, please. Also leave out the part about my haunted room decorations.
In between adjusting contrast on 2004 Bentley photographs I'm also thinking about the deadline approaching (like 2 days way) to get some column ideas whipped up for Kelly @ Pistil Magazine.
It's going to be the "Solitary" edition.
You may/may not be included in a few of the short stories if we've dated and you:
1. gave me a 2 pound bag of shredded porn on our 3rd date.
2. listened to Whiskeytown and froke out when I (not really)choked you in the heat of passion.
3. lost your virginity to me on your mom's Nasa mattress.
4. tried to spank me with a kitchen utensil after we watched Jeepers Creepers.
Don't be afraid, I'll make sure no one knows I'm talking about you.
On a slightly more important note it's
Oly's last show (with Atomly) before she moves out of the country tonight.
Come along with me and stop complaining about the 5 dollar cover because you probably don't even know the best way to get rid of underarm deoderant marks.