yesterday evening i went salsa dancing for a friend’s birthday.
it was crazy because i have never been salsa dancing before. except in high school gym class. oh and then i got charged an extra 5 dollars AT THE DOOR for WEARING JEANS. i bet if i showed up in leg warmers and a tutu, i would not have been charged an extra 5 dollars. apparently the denim THAT HOLDS THIS COUNTRY TOGETHER is an eyesore to this establishment. excuse me BUT I BELIEVE cotton is the fabric of our LIVES and when i last checked, JEANS ARE COTTON. yeah the all-caps parts means i am YELLING.
but yeah. i cut my losses, which means my friend, even though it was her birthday, spotted me an extra five (cuz i am BROKE, my children). so first, there was a lesson. and the lady spoke in a monotone so everything she said such as “GOOD JOB EVERYBODY” could just as well have been her saying “NOW I WILL TERMINATE YOU.”
one guy kept dipping me. i kept feeling like an idiot.
then the actual dancing was even funnier. guys just come up and ask you. and just because you dance with them, it doesn’t mean you like them, which was good. because most of the men were 30+. one of them had long flowing scraggly brown hair all the way down his back. and his head was so big it was like a japanese lantern.
i had to keep saying i was a beginner whenever i was invited to dance. and some of them used that as an excuse to “show me the moves” when in reality they had no idea what they were doing either but i had to play along because it’s hard to upstage someone who does a great salsa IMPRESSION. and then the really good guys wouldn’t even talk to you. they just throw you around, which is great if you have even a smidgeon of experience. but i ended up banging into every other couple on the floor. and then i would be twirled in another direction. so really i had no time to apologize to anyone for leaving footprints on their feet, hands, face, etc. one guy asked me if i preferred “1-handed or 2?” and i said “oh. two, definitely two.” (whhhhaatttt) i had to wash my hands at the end of the night. i felt like they made out with all these random guys. that’s what salsa dancing feels like. like making out with your hands.
today morning, this possibly mentally handicapped guy stopped me outside the train station and said “hello” and then he held out a very pretty flower and said “this is for you” and i said, “oh that’s so nice. you should keep it though. it’s so nice” and then he said “no i picked it for you.” and then i said “no thanks” and ran away. way to be smooth, casanotaparna.
i hate it when people put you on the spot with jokes. they’re like “oh you do comedy? make me laugh.” and then i look really pained like i just wet myself and then my eyes bug out and i make a face of mourning. it’s quite dreadful. the reaction keeps expanding though. soon, i might have to sway back and forth and cradle my head in my hands and howl. because that’s how sad i feel about telling jokes on the spot.
p.s. vanilla soy lattes are GROSS. i thought replacing real milk with plant milk would cut down on my phlegm production because i have to record my voice today for a story. but the phlegm production going down has been replaced with the gag reflex going up. so it didn’t quite work out. this is how a sip of vanilla soy latte goes…mmm warm vanilla….BLECH…what was that last taste? vomit? yes. it’s just been confirmed. that was a dead ringer for vomit. i think i will start calling them vanilla saliva lattes. because that’s possibly as gross as they are.