| September 3, 2004 - I'm such a klutz |
| Dear Friends, sometimes I can be such a klutz! You won't believe what happened the other day; I'm just such a ding-dong. I decided that I was going to take Lindy Hop lessons every Wednesday night after work. Well, I already know a little bit of Swing dancing, so while I was running water in the bathroom sink in preparation for washing my face, I started practicing some dance steps while holding on to the towel rod as my partner. After a few steps, the towel rod snapped in half and I went lurching backwards. It was all very embarrassing, but that's what one gets when one substitutes a towel rod for a real, live person. Anyway, the next day I was lifting up my arm to put on deodorant and noticed bruises it. I don't know if I got them from banging them against the towel rod supports or if I had them from another klutzy episode; they looked rather old to me. Well after that little fiasco, I turned around to the sink to wash my face. I lathered up my hands and was scrubbing my face vigorously when I accidentally jammed the little finger of my left hand up to its knuckle in my left nostril! Talk about pain! It was a cross between the feeling you have when your nose is stopped up and when you really need to sneeze, but can't.. I know exactly how Egyptian mummies must have felt when they had their brains pulled out of their nostrils, except for the fact that they were already dead and couldn't feel anything. That brings to mind another klutzy episode of a few weeks back. Gunhilde, my dear kitty, had jumped on the back of a chair and wanted me to chase her. I always run after her, saying "I'm gonna get you, you bad kitty!" Anyway, just as I reached for her, she turned her tail to me and my finger rammed her ass! She looked very indignant, but I was mortified. I started screeching, "Cat butt! Cat butt! Oh, God, I touched cat butt!" and went running off to the bathroom to scrub my hands thoroughly to get rid of the cat butt germs. Well, on to more pleasant topics! Last weekend my friend, K., gave a party for our friend, D.'s birthday. He wanted it to be based on the movie "Sordid Lives" which is all about a Southern White Trash family with its dark, white trash secrets. Anyway, in keeping with the theme, K. made a red velvet cake shaped like an armadillo and frosted with grey frosting, just like in "Steel Magnolias". And just like in that movie, K. refused to reveal the secret of grey frosting. Then he made up a batch of what he called White Trash Martini. It was a big punch bowl containing a frozen ring of grapefruit juice that he had frozen in a bundt pan. Over that he poured a whole bottle of vodka. You could then spike it yourself with a splash of cranberry juice or Sunkiist orange drink. It was actually pretty good and I don't even like grapefruit juice. For glasses, he had an assortment of mason jars and martini glasses that had pink foam rubber hair curlers attached to the stems. Now that's Southern White Trash class! The main "entree" of the evening was a couple of buckets of KFC fried chicken and biscuits. For dessert he had banana pudding and something that I think was called Boston Chocolate Pie, but that K. had rechristened "Trailer-misu". Right before everyone arrived, K. had shown me about 45 minutes of "Sordid Lives" so I was able to pick out the motif of the party quite easily. Oh, we were all also issued rubber bands to put on our wrists so that we could pop them periodically as one of the movie's characters does, who's trying to quit smoking. It was all fun with everyone saying the most outrageous things; and believe me, K., can say some outrageous things! My next big "do" is over Columbus Day weekend. I mentioned to K. that I've always wanted to go to Canada. (In fact, I may be forced to move there if Georgie gets elected and starts arresting everyone who's ever disagreed with him.) Anyhoo, it ended up with K. and me booking a flight to Montreal! Won't that just be bootilicious? I'm really looking forward to that, but I've noticed I always look forward to things where I'm able to escape "the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" as Hamlet says. Or as I call it, "hateful ol' work". Why oh why can't I be independently wealthy? I should be the sort of person living in a "compound", like the Kennedys. I should be the one acting all giggly and stupid and getting away with it, like the Bush twins. Why can't I be like Neil Bush, Georgie's brother, and make bazillions of dollars off of failed business deals and get away with it? Why hasn't Halliburton ever offered me a lucrative position? I can overcharge commodities with the best of 'em! It's just not fair that people like Jackie O. (yes, I know she's dead) get to have heated towel rods while I can't even use mine as an ersatz dance partner! Let's face it, JOHNNYLEEN has the glamour and bootiliciousness for it, but he also has too great a sense of fair play and decency. Why? Why? Why? Next entry Previous entry Go to diary entries Go back home |