Cheery Blossom Dance Party!

That’s right, CHEERY BLOSSOMS. Because they make me happy! The Cherry Blossom Festival is back in town. My sometimes dance group, Dhoonya Dance, had the opening slot for last Sunday’s festivities (about a week ago, so yes, all the breaking news here).

Check us out! But first, the blossoms!
The Jefferson Memo!
These are our little kiddies who performed before us. Some delightful tourist asked if any of them were in Slumdog Millionaire. I KNOW.
They are, in fact, looking straight hood here though.
Pretty in pink!
Pretty in pink 2: Back in the habit!
I weaseled my way into this picture.
Oh, me again!
I look discontented. WHY!
Oh wow, me again. It’s like I rigged it.
Soulful. Simple. 
Lady Gaga would be proud. We are just dancing.
My friend Shailee rockin’ it.
Somehow running out of self-involved captions.

Spin city!
Fun cheesy ending pose!

We are done-zo.
I have trouble looking at the camera!
There goes my soul!

Cell Phone Cameras Continue to Document Thin Shreds of Reality

This weekend was pretty crunked out, and no, I do not use that term loosey-goosely. It was extremely cranked up, pumped to the max, as far as weekends go, whoa whoa.

First, Halloween occurred but I had to double-time it with the dress rehearsal for the Saturday Bolly dance-stravaganza. However, costumes still happened, natch.

I was the Internet phenomenon, Spaghetti Cat! Well, technically, I was the cat and boyfie was the spaghetti (I cooked real noodles!). Low-maintenance is our mantra. Photo shoot ensued.

Original Spaghetti Cat:

First take, Spaghetti Cat:

Second take, Spaghetti Cat:

Third take, Spaghetti Cat Contemplates Noodles/Life:

Paparazzi Shot #1, Spaghetti Bat(?):

Paparazzi Shot #2, Spaghetti Cat—Up Claws and Purrrr-sonal:

Paparazzi Shot #3, Boyfie Bewitches While Maintaining Privacy:

Paparazzi Shot #4, Boyfie Is Mysterious Stranger:

Then, all of Saturday, dance show happened! It was insane, off the chain, in the membrane! Thank you so much to everyone who came out to see it! I currently only have one photo documenting a final dazzle pose, but use your imagination and/or patience to fill in the rest.

Then I detoxed on Sunday by watching The Omen, a scary movie, in which, well, for lack of a better way to put it, shit goes down. I am unclear exactly how much watching this movie actually realigned my chakras, if at all.

In retrospect, I am pretty mad that Julia Stiles got on the tippy-top of a stool to hydrate roses when she was clearly going to fall several feet after her demon child ran into her with his Razor-esque kick scooter (totally not meant for indoor purposes, btdubs, even if you are the Antichrist). She did go to Columbia after all! She’s no dummy.

If you have a nanny, especially a creepy Mia Farrow nanny, you can also afford a no-nonsense maid, a la Mr. Belvedere or Geoffrey from Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. He can water those pesky flowers and prevent inconvenient hospital bills! Yeah, I’m sorry too that I’m trying to transpose logic over a movie about the son of a jackal and his reign of kinder-terror.

In conclusion, yesterday, while perusing a book vending institution, I found the following: Sock Monkey in a Box!!! You’re welcome.