300!!!!!!!

Can you believe this is officially my 300th post? And I'd really like to post something profound, but this is not a thinking man's blog. So instead, I'm going to write about something completely shallow....Boys, Fashion, Gossip and such!

Ok, I don't have anything interesting to say about boys, fashion, gossip, or anything. So, I suppose I'll just give you an update.
1. The Boxer -- I've broken the curse -- with the Boxer!! After 11 months of first dates and no second dates, on Wednesday, I FINALLY had a second date! And it was loverly. He took me out for sushi, I took the wine (it was BYOB). He's a little obsessive; but in a cute kinda way. As in, he'll whine if I haven't called him. So, but for the fact that I watch so many crime shows, it wouldn't be creepy at all. But alas, I do watch a lot of crime shows, so now I'm all worried that he's going to turn into a stalker. **This is completely unfounded, and totally encouraged by a recent CSI: Miami episode. We haven't even had a 3rd date!

2. Bottle Service Guy -- he's still a total flake. I've determined that when we do talk, he's completely entertaining, and so I'm making efforts to turn him into a platonic friend. Thus far, it's been a feeble attempt. Yesterday, he asked me to watch football with him, and I told him I couldn't because of the Dancing With The Stars finale. I think he was shocked at the reason I turned him down. I found it kind of hilarious really.

3. Laptop -- so, I've purchased a new laptop, to much pain in my wallet. I did go to the store on Black Friday to see if they marked it down even further, but alas, they hadn't. Sadly, I lost all my pictures and all my music. The music, totally replaceable. The pictures, not replaceable, but almost all of them are either in print or on my digi cam still. Sadly, roughly 8 pics from last year's NYE in PHX are MIA. :'(. Soooooo sad about that.

4. The Ninja -- yup, texted me over Thanksgiving. I texted back. That was it. But I suspect he's trying to re-establish contact with the island.

I think that's it. But, if there's more, you'll find out in post #301!!!!!!

It's like riding in a coffin down a mine shaft

That is a quote from the t.v. show Samantha Who? on ABC. She was talking about elevators. I feel it refers to my job. I really didn't want to write another post about how much I enjoy my job. And by enjoy, I mean despise. But, I felt that quote was oh-so-appropriate, and therefore I thought I'd share.

Here's what I was going to post originally: I am so confused by the boxer. Remember how he and I had sorta, kinda arranged to meet on Thursday? And then he never got back to me to confirm time or place? And then he didn't answer my text on Saturday (it was a totally random text, one that I sent to more than one person). So I figure, good riddance to mediocre rubbish; given my earlier determination that his island stay would be short as he was just trying to get laid. Anyway, I received the most baffling phone call and message today...from the boxer. Wait, why is he calling me? Yes, I get that he and I did not actually have a set time or place to meet last Thursday, but I thought that maybe our mediocre date was understanding enough that we weren't really going to put forth effort. Was I the only one that got that vibe? Hmmm. Anyway, I haven't returned the call yet. That'll give me something to do tomorrow when I'm driving to BFE for work.

Sister Mary Bridget Jones

Yesterday, martamack -- ahem, Married martamack -- missed his train, and because he lives in BFE, that meant another one wasn't coming for quite some time. Being the adoring kid sister that I am, I agreed to meet him at the nearest Starbucks and provide company. During our coffee break, I had a very Bridget Jones Diary moment.

You may remember the scene in the first Bridget Jones movie where she's sitting around at a friend's dinner as the only single person there. And one of the smug married men goes "so why do you suppose there are so many women in their thirties who are single?" or some such thing. To which she replied it was because she had scales and fur.

Anyway, the day before yesterday, MMM asked his periodic question of "why are you still single"? Evidently, the answer I gave him on Tuesday wasn't satisfactory enough, because we wound around to that topic again on Wednesday night. I think it may have started because I was describing why bottle-service guy was re-kicked off the island.

Anyway, my usual course of action is to play off the question, or merely ignore it. However, today, I've decided to lay this issue to rest once and for all. The reason why, I have had 7 (8???) first dates and 0 second dates in the past 11 months is because I am abstinent. There, I said it. I dare you to refute it. Think about it, first, the sexual revolution, followed by Sex and the City, and everything in between, and I expect a guy -- mind you, a guy I just met -- to give up getting laid on a regular basis until marriage? Yes, I acknowledge the arrogance in that, but sadly the idea of burning in hell and the accompanying emotional guilt just aren't worth it for me. But, I don't blame the guy for just deciding not to ask me out on a second date, and find a girl whose giving it up instead. I mean really? I'd do the same thing.

MMM's solution to all this was just not mentioning it until the 3rd date. I'm pretty sure all that does is put off the inevitable...and adds the extra bonus of accusations of being a tease. AND, if you don't bring it up right away, I find that the guy merely believes it's a ploy and that either (a) I'm lying in order to look coy or (b) he can talk me into having sex.

So there, that's why I'm still single. All clear? Ok good. Glad we talked about that. Just call me Sister Mary Bridget Jones.

Promised Details

Ok Dance Team: I went to finals. Before finals, we had 2 boot camp classes. They lasted from 7 until 10:30. Then, the finals were held at a local club. We dancers had to arrive by 10 a.m. We rehearsed, and then changed into black cocktail dresses. For the record, my black cocktail dress is fabulous, but no longer fits me awesomely, because my trainer worked and whittled me down a size. (Yee haa). There was a question portion, where we were to shine with personality. Then, we changed out of our black dresses and into our teeny tiny dance outfits. And then we danced. And then I didn't make it. The end. And so now, I've pretty much decided to retire my dance shoes once and for all. As I said way back in September, if I didn't make it, I'd probably be done. Hence retirement.

Ok boys: The bottle service guy. We had a FANTASTIC first date. There was lots of giggling, and we were both dressed rather stylishly. This was the Thursday before the tryout. The night after the tryout, we talked. He wanted to hang out, but for obvious reasons, I really didn't want to. So, I invited him to come over on Sunday and watch football. I grant you, they were tentative plans, but I still wasn't expecting him to blow it off. Which he did. I didn't hear from him again until I texted him the following Tuesday. Long story short, I kicked him off the island. But upon re-examining the issue, I have sent him another invitation to the island. But, I'm going to make it very clear that he's walking a fine line.

The boxer. The boxer is a guy I just met on Saturday. He's both a professional boxer (middle heavyweight) and a personal trainer. I shudder to think of that 8 pack he's sporting. We met on Saturday. He called and asked for a date on Sunday, which we had on Sunday. I'm impressed by his boldness. However, I suspect he's just trying to get laid. Unfortunate really, I would've enjoyed a cuddle with a hard body like that.

Ok, I think that's it. Consider yourself updated. Phew. Just in time to go to bed. Zzzzzz.

Quick Note

So, I haven't blogged in a while, so here's the cliff notes of what you need to know. Last week my computer died. And by died, I mean fubar'ed. That happened the day before I didn't make the dance team -- and de facto went into retirement.

The guy from the bar fell off the island. But he's been replaced by a new guy, the boxer. Whom I met on Saturday, and then went out on a date with on Sunday. More details to follow.

Anyhoo, as expected, I'm up and down with my mood, of course. Being forced into retirement sucks a little. The guy from the bar leaving the island also sucked, given our excellent first date. The new guy, kinda fun, but I'm not yet sure about.

At any rate, I'll post more soon, I promise.

Oyeille yeille yeille

Ouch. That's what my body is saying, exclaiming, crying really. Why, you ask? Well because yesterday I had tryouts to become an Adrenaline Rush Dancer. Tryouts began at 9:15. We started with very scary technique. And given the fact that we were in a convention center, and not a dance studio, there were no mirrors. All I know is that I did the leaps and the sexy walks really well...because I already knew how to do those. I also know that I didn't do the Calypso so great. And, I tripped at least once attempting to wink at the judges. Smooooooooth.

Ok, after the technique, we moved on to the sideline. This was pretty easy as long as you knew something about pom dancing. Which, obviously I do. The real key was to be able to do the freaky straight arms of a cheerleader. Totally handled that. But so did everyone else, for the most part.

Then, we had our lunch time adventure. The sign on the bus stop said 3 blocks to get to the McDonalds. So I, along with some other girls, walked. I don't know who measured, but it was definitely a good half mile. ONE WAY. Arrrrrgh!

After lunch, there was even more. First, there was a hip hop. I had a good time with that one. Shakin' my distinctive parts, as Luda said. Second, there was a pom funk routine. No one rocked that one, because it wasn't as high energy as the hip hop. Which is probably why we had to do it twice. Yikes.

Anyhoo, short story long...I made it to finals!!!!!!!! Squeeeeeeee!

Long Weekend

Last weekend was quite the weekend. Friday, I went to an incredibly grown-up dinner party that the cute neighbor invited me to. I was so impressed with everyone's dish. (Given that I didn't get notice until the last minute, I took tasty tasty liquor, and didn't show off my culinary skills). Anyway, the hostess made a tasty and delicious pork tenderloin. Cute neighbor made tasty pasta. HBG made sauteed green beans. But, most impressively, one of the other guests brought stuffed mushroom caps. They were to die for. So very delicious. Afterwards, we went out for a bit, ending up at the bar where Afro-guy works. Sadly, he wasn't there. HBG's friend from college came along, and he was a super cute law student. I would've definitely made out with him, but for the fact that HBG was standing right there. Bummer. D'ah well. If he's friends with HBG, he's probably stuck in the frat boy mindset anyway. Particularly since he's nearly a lawyer.

Then Saturday I went out with the Fabulous Kia (That's pronounced kye-ah). She is a most fantastically person that I met through Chrissy. Fortunately, Chrissy introduced us, because we were both languishing from going out to lame bars with Chrissy. Now we can go out to classy bars with each other, and get into all kinds of trouble. What kind of trouble you ask? Well, trouble like Saturday night. Not only did we get into VIP for free, but Kia also managed to get us each a free glass of champagne from some random guy. And then we both got drinks from cute boys with bottle service (Belvidere for those of you keeping track). Hilariously, Kia was actually using her pseudonym, and the guy to whom she'd given her phone number called on Sunday asking for her. And she was a teeny bit confused. HA!

Speaking of cute boys with bottle service. One of them asked for my phone number -- and unlike JLH he called! Hooray! We'll see if it goes anywhere. So far, so good. I've been impressed with his boldness thus far.

This post brought to you by the number 9

Last night, I was looking in my closet, longing to wear jeans to work the next day. I came to a rather shameful conclusion. I own nine pairs of jeans. 9!!! Isn't that absolutely nuts. That's american materialism at it's best. And honestly, I only feel bad about 2 pair of the 7. The other 7, I get a decent amount of wear out of them. But 1 pair used to be my comfy pair, have sort of turned into a mom jean. The other pair are the skinny jeans. A great pair of jeans I bought at the height (low?) of my Weight Watcher days. I keep them around to remind me how tiny I can be if I really put my mind to it. I tried them on last night, given my recent strength training with the trainer extraordinaire -- they were still pretty tight. But not necessarily in the obscene kind of way, maybe in an almost kind of way. So, we'll see if at the end of our sessions, I can get myself in them. Dude, making the dance team + fitting into my skinny jeans = wickedly worth the price.

Thus swung the Pendulum

So, the Ninja called me tonight. I missed the call (making me look like a busy busy girl). But he left a message. Which was even more shocking; since he never leaves message (that would be far too responsible). The message basically asked what I was doing on Friday. And therein lies the question. Why is he calling asking what I'm doing on Friday? And since the only way the thought would cross his mind to ask me is if he broke up with his g/f or if the relationship is on the rocks....how long ago did that relationship start to spiral downwards? And, most importantly, do I care?

News and Reflections

News first: We'll start with the Hawkeye. Ok, basically, I'm so over him. He's too young. And generally not that into me. Actually, I don't know if he's that into me, so much as he isn't working that hard to get to me. That might be because he's not that into me. And it might be because he's not used to having to work that hard...having been a football player in the Big 10 and all. Thus, although he's still uber-cute, I'm just not willing to put in any kind of work to get his attention, because he's just out of college, and therefore not worth the effort.

There may, however, be a newcomer to the island. We'll call him JLH. JLH is a little bit older than I'm normally attracted to. Stop laughing! I'm not always attracted to 22 year olds. I'd definitely go for someone who is 27, 28. Remember cute neighbor?! He's 28. Ok then. Glad I proved that. (I still hear you giggling). Anyway, JLH is probably around 32, 33. He's an attorney at a sweatshop firm; a 7th year. He's tall caramelly and handsome. And definitely spends some time at the gym. Which I like. I don't know much else about him biographically. Mostly because we only met briefly at a lawyerly function. So far, there's been no contact. But my buddy said that I may have made him think that I wasn't interested, so I broke the 2 day rule and emailed him right away -- but it was both casual and legitimate. The ball's in his court now, so we'll see if he was actually interested. Here's to hoping that he's not only interested, but also child-free and has a good personality to go with that nice body.

Reflections: Ok, so today I was at my friend's housewarming dinner party. And she was mentioning some things that pheebee's been getting into and some things that she's done. I've always said that I want to lead an exciting life; and I've always been afraid that my 20s were just languishing since I wasn't really doing anything uber-exciting. As it turns out, when you list all the things I've been getting into recently, my life's not so boring. Think about it, I've tried out for a pro dance squad, and I'm trying out for another one in a few weeks. Besides that, I was already on one a few years ago. AND, I was picked to be the CBJIG. AND, I used to be a Hooters Girl. (Bet you forgot about that). And I went out with a pro-basketball player. And I've been to a bunch of foreign countries. I mean, my biography, while nothing movies are made of, is actually fairly interesting. Sah-weet! I don't have to worry that I'm the most boring person in the world. Which, believe it or not, is a near constant nagging fear that I have. (Look at that, one more layer to pheebee's personality -- I'm like a deluxe parfait).

Phooey

Ok, so I finally learned the Hawkeye's name. And therefore I google-stalked him. And, I made a startling discovery. He was born in 1985. I've already had to deal with someone born in that year. Remember the young'n? Oh crap. Maybe I'm no longer that into him. I don't think I can deal with fighting his sexual impulses. Which may be just as well, because there may be an unconfirmed girlfriend. Why couldn't he be a nice 27-29 year old man?

I did enjoy talking to him for an extended period of time today. He seems to be able to handle my smart-arsed mouth. Although, he may be a little bit of a whiner in terms of giving him a hard time. And we have an appointment to chat on Tuesday; as we have a bet going about who's going to win the Packers/Bears game (duh). He took the losing side, so I need suggestions for bet terms. And before you suggest it, it can't be dinner or drinks or any such thing; because the terms he picked involved lunges and squats. (sad. He definitely passed on the opportunity to ask me out).

Speaking of the young'n, he called me this week. He's moving to California. I think I may miss his empty threats of proposing marriage.

Houston, we have a mini problem

So, I've been properly stalking the Hawkeye. And by stalking, I mean going to my regular gym at the regular time and checking him out. We often exchange pleasantries. However, I noticed today that he wasn't as cute as I originally thought. Which got me a little worried. Even I am starting to think I'm too picky. But, for the record, I'm going to continue to stalk the Hawkeye. Because he's still hot. Hooray Hawkeye!

Incidentally, I've also renewed my resolve not to repeat those who have been kicked off the island. I had the oddest dream about the Engineer, and that got me to thinking for half a second. I wondered to myself whether it'd be a bad idea to call him. Goodness knows I haven't forgotten the phone number (darn memory for phone numbers). Which reminded me: I need to get new cabana boys.

All this to say, that despite not being as impressed by the Hawkeye as before, I still want him on the island to prevent repeats. I don't know whether I"m any closer to making that happen. But what the heck, I'm still game for giving it a shot.

The Hawkeye

Well, I was in love. I saw him on Tuesday, after a rather brutal workout with my trainer. Actually, I'd seen him around the gym sometime before that, when he was taking off his shirt. But then when I looked away and back again, he was gone. So I thought he was the Phantom hot guy. I was pleasantly surprised on Tuesday when I saw him in real life and up close.

So, I decided to say hello and give him a hard time because he was wearing a Hawkeye shirt and the Badgers just beat the pants off of them. We quickly bonded because he actually went to Iowa (and played football there!!!) and I went to old CC. AND we're both Packers fans. Anyway, we'd been talking for a little while, when some people needed to get by us. And here's where the oddness happened. In order to let them pass, he went into the office that was behind him. But, instead of backing in (his back was in the doorway), he turned around and went in. Then he stayed in there for an oddly long time. So, I walked away. And then, after I walked away, I wondered if maybe he wasn't ending the conversation after all. But I was already gone. And then I couldn't find him when I came out of the locker room. So, that's how our great conversation ended.

Ah well. I guess it's just as well anyway. Martamack told me today that I have no shot with the hot trainer. Actually, what he said was that I only had a 1:150 shot, and why should I even try if I'm competing with girls who spend hours upon hours in the gym. AND if there are any of the Asian persuasion, I should really forget about it. AND he said that I really shouldn't bother because there are so many pretty women out there that the Hawkeye would have to choose from. So, the moral of the story is I shouldn't bother.

Open Call

With all the activity I had going on last weekend, I'd forgotten about what weekends are really like for me. Last night, I was prepared to stay in, because I had a busy day of working out and errands planned. And, I thought I'd be going out with the SiQ tonight. However, the SiQ decided to make a stop downstate first, before coming up to the Chi. So, here I am, ready to go out, and yet instead I'm blogging.

I knew this is what I'd be doing early on in the evening. I stopped by the library around 4, and figured I'd get a book to read tonight, but I forgot my library card. Then, when I went to the grocery store, I picked up a frozen pizza, because I knew I wasn't going out to dinner. And then, the final straw, at 8, I went upstairs to grab the nail polish remover, cotton balls, and the nail polish to give myself a pedicure. All this, because I knew I wasn't going out.

The sad thing is, sometimes I make plenty of effort, texting people and trying to get plans together. But, rarely do people ever call me to go out. Though I have friends, they're all too attached, too old, too busy with family, blah blah blah they are NOT partiers. Or, in the alternative, they don't go out clubbing, but prefer bars, and therefore got sick of me turning them down and so never call me. Today is not one of those days where I'm making effort though. Today, I'm participating in a social experiment to see if anyone will call me to see what's shaking. But, I know the answer. That would be nothing.

So, what's a gal to do? Well, this gal is probably going to start expanding her friend circle. To people who prefer to be out rather than in on the weekends. Oh, and people who prefer to go out and look cute rather than go to bars where looks aren't that important. Because honestly? I have too many darn cute clothes to be in my pjs at 9pm on a Saturday night.

Worth it?

Prep classes plus registration fee -- $99.00
8 sessions with personal trainer -- $352.00
Living broke for weeks to attempt another team try-out --- priceless?

Hippy Dippy White Guys

And while I'm on the subject of hippy dippy white guys...who the hell decided these men were attractive? And now they're everywhere. Seriously, that giant dude from that idiotic movie "40 Year-Old Virgin." Who later carried the movie I couldn't bring myself to watch "Knocked Up." And then Jack Black. And, goodness help me Will Ferrell. Gaaaaaah.

Seriously, I"m not sure which is worse, saggy pants or the idiotic curly 'fros made allegedly popular. Wait, I take that back. They both make me want to settle down with a nice gay man.

Confessions of an eL rider

So, there I am, standing on an awfully crowded train, trying to avoid eye contact with a hippy dippy white dude with a curly fro and a knapsack. Meanwhile, he's singing to himself, without an ipod. But, that's what public transportation is for right?

Anyway, what happens at my third stop out, is some chick he knows gets on the train. Who woulda thunk it? Apparently said chick and the hippy dippy white guy haven't seen each other in ages. So they're catching up, and the rest of us gain all kinds of insight into the hippy dippy white guy. Apparently, not only does he look like a hippy, but he also gets high like one. Apparently, he started doing crack since he last saw her. Him and his dad used to get high on it together. He and his mom used to get high on meth. So, once you start crack, it's really hard to stop. AND, his dad has decided to stop. (Bummer). Also, he isn't staying at the hostel anymore, instead he's sleeping in a local park. Unfortunately, we weren't graced with anymore of the catching up, because the hippy dippy white guy and said chick got off at the next stop. She actually asked him if she could "walk with him." Hello, random?!

Now, here's the part that makes this hilarious. He was neither joking, nor tragic. He was completely proud of it. I suspect he may have even been proud of it. He told it the way most people would describe the 4 years they spent in college. The girls I was exchanging pointed looks with were equally as disappointed as I. We spent 1/2 of the time to the next stop musing over how random the conversation was, and how it ranked as far as all time most awesome eL conversations we'd (shamelessly) eavesdropped on. And THAT's when I decided to blog about it.

Nope

That's the answer to the question you've been dying to know. I did not make the dance team. Of course, I guess there's bound to be at least one dance try out that I have where I don't make the team right?

The sad thing is, I totally thought I nailed it. And, moves-wise, I may have. But, just before they made the announcement, the director came in and said that for the people who didn't make it, it may have been any number of reasons why -- personality, etc. She even said "maybe you look exactly like another girl." That was the official moment that I got worried. There was an uber-awesome girl who, from far away, looked exactly like me. Crap! No, she wasn't talking to me, but for goodness' sake, how could I think anything other than that meant both of us weren't going to make it? This was sad, because that chick is awesome. I'd practiced with her on Thursday, and I really wanted us both to make it so we could hang out. Had she gone to Cornell, she def. woulda been an m-te. I was already planning to invite her to the next m-te vacation.

Anyway, I was standing there, with my parents and 2 friends, when my name was definitely not announced. (Hers was, for your FYI). So, here I am, not on a(nother) pro dance team.

So my mother, ever the optimist, spends the next 45 minutes or so deciding that I'm going to go ahead and try out for the team I'd originally planned on trying out for in October. Meanwhile, I'm bummed AND feeling less than confident about my skillz. Well, my mother is stubborn. (A trait that's hereditary, incidentally. I'll never admit to being stubborn (ha!), but everyone agrees that my g-ma was.) And so, despite the many many valid reasons I had for not trying out, my mother has gone so far as to offer to pay for the entrance fee and the prep classes. Oy.

But she can't make me go, right? On the other hand, am I really that much of a baby? (Yes.)

Funny, every time I went to practice for this last dance team, I passed the stadium for the other one. I definitely found myself thinking how nice it would be not to have drive so far. One time, I even said to myself "If I was on that team, I'd be home by now." I also remember wondering to myself whether I'd not be picked on Saturday as a sign from God that I should be on the other. Hmmm. All things to think about.

Some good news, though, my neck doesn't hurt anymore! Squee!!! And my body didn't feel completely torn up this morning. Squee!!!! Guess I was just rusty before, which means, I AM NOT OLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Take that martamack.)

Tragedy on Belmont

So, as I said yesterday, I went to a play with friends, and the guy they're making a minor attempt to set me up with. (Remember, the one who may be a bit dim?) Anyway, I arrived at the theatre after they did, because I was busy purchasing new split sole dance sneakers. So when I got there, I arrived alone. As I'm walking into the auditorium, an extremely handsome man said "Excuse me....what's your name?" So I say, "pheebee." He says "I'm Darryl. Let's sit together." All of this was executed with extreme Billy Dee Williams suaveness. I was very impressed with his boldness, and the simplicity of the line.

Anyhoo, I'm all set to agree, but I tell him that I can't because my friends have brought someone I'm supposed to be set up with. But, I tell him, let's meet up during intermission. (Did I mention he was handsome AND bold AND suave?!)

Now, here's the tragic part of the story. Once I sat down, and looked at the program, I was devastated to find out that there was no intermission. BLAST! My friend said that's what I get for being greedy. But I wasn't being greedy! I was just leaving my options open ;). Sad times. Maybe I'll see him around...it's possible right?

Shake what your momma gave ya! or Man! I am old!

Ok, so we know I decided to try out for a local sports dance team. And we knew I had a few months to get my arse in gear, as well as buy dance shoes, stretch, etc. Well, what we didn't know was the power of google. I'm tooling about the internet, looking for various dance tryout websites, trying to get the upper hand. Well, one of my searches turns up a dance team try out for Saturday. As in, yesterday. So what do I do? I decide to try out, on a whim. It was Thursday, so somebody hit the panic button!

Ok, Thursday night, I'm emailing the Director to find out if it's too late to sign up. Friday morning, I wake up at the crack of dawn, so I check my email. The director emails me the night before, and says it's cool. Alright, it's Friday, and I have no shoes. Sweet. I spend the day trying to find a store that sells used dance shoes, to no avail. Ok, it's 6:36 p.m. I'm supposed to be meeting up with some friends to see a play (more on that on a later date). I've found a local dance store that sells new dance shoes....and they close at 7pm. Well, I drive a Mustang right? (just ask Rubix, HA!). Let's let her out. I'm praying-while-driving, passing on the right, speeding, cruising, and illegally parked, but I made it just after the store closed. But, having called before, I think they were feeling generous and held the doors open 5 minutes later than they would have. So, I've got brand new ($60 - yikes!) dance shoes.

So, it's Saturday, a.m. I'm required to bring a picture of myself to the audition. On Friday night, I go online and have one sent to Walgreens. It was supposed to be ready by 11:30 p.m. Friday night. Naturally, it wasn't ready when I went to Walgreens at 7:05 a.m. the next morning. *Sigh* Oh well, she's able to print it (with plenty of attitude) right then and there. So I'm on the road by 715.

Now, the fun begins. For those that don't know, when the tryout information page tells you to bring a lunch, they mean it. When they say plan to be there all day, they mean it. The teaching started at 9:15. We broke for lunch at 12:15. What sucks about that is they don't say it out loud, but the judging starts at 915. (I can prove it too, a bunch of people were cut at lunch). Anyway, around 1030, I hurt so much I thought I was going to die. But, I figured, I just bought $60 shoes, so I'd better go all the way. Between the hurting various body parts, and the fact that more than half the people there were younger than me (including one chick who had braces and was dropped off by her dad), I felt old for the first time in my life. Ouch.

After a series of cuts, I've made it to the final round, which will be held next Saturday. It's open to the public, so come on out!!!! The more people that are cheering for me, the hotter the judges will think I am. ;) (I'm all about using every advantage I've got baby!)