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Monday, January 29th, 2007
10:51 pm - 2006 as a year
1.) Where did you ring in 2007?
At the boy's apartment. He was sick, so we watched Fearless.

2.) What was your status by Valentine's Day?
Taken and hopefully fucked. But I'd still rather cut off a finger than deal with valentines day.

3.) Were you in school (anytime this year)?
I took tango classes. Does that count?

4.) How did you earn your keep?
Brilliant item writer/mathematician.

5.) Did you have to go to the hospital?
Yeah. Blood poisoning sucks.

6.) Did you encounter the police?
Nope.

7.) Where did you go on vacation?
Vacation?

8.) What did you purchase that was over $500?
Huh?

9.) Did you know anybody who got married?
All my math friends. I'm creeped out.

10.) Did you know anybody who passed away?
Not in 2006, thank god.

11.) Did you run into anybody you graduated high school with?
Thank GOD no.

12.) Did you move anywhere?
From Eugene to Seattle.

13.) What sporting events did you go to??
Huh?

14.) What concerts did you go to?
I went to a "Visit me at the frozen torso heap" concert. I've got their CD. Hoiven van Cumbersplut gave it to me himself.

15.) Are you registered to vote?
Yup.

16.) If so, did you do your patriotic duty on Nov. 7?
Shit, shit, I forgot. I really did try . . .

17.) Where do you live now?
Seattle, WA

18.) Describe your birthday.
I had SERIOUSLY BAD PMS, made a fool of myself at valentango, and fought with my boyfriend. Thanks for bringing it up. Would you like some lemonjuice to squeeze in my wound?

19.) What's the one thing you thought you would never do but did in 2006?
Have sex with a steady boyfriend.

20.) What is one thing you regretted this year?
I have so many regrets, I could never choose one.

21.) What's something you learned about yourself?
I have a (very very) small nurturing streak.

22.) Any new additions to your family?
That's a complicated question. I'm not sure if I gained a stepmother or lost a father.

23.) What was your best month?
October? Maybe November?

24.) What from pop culture will you remember 2006 by?
The show '24' and "so you think you can dance".

25.) How would you rate this year with a scale from 1 (crappy) to 10 (excellent)?
I'd give it a 6.5. Most of the year dealing with depression, unhappy parents, my father's marriage, bladder infections, but on the good side: My glorious boyfriend (we fought all the damn time) and a job that I liked a lot.

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Wednesday, June 28th, 2006
1:09 pm
The last few days have been pretty hard for me. I've had 0 luck with job hunts and no luck at Microsoft. Days like today I don't feel like getting out of bed.

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Wednesday, November 23rd, 2005
6:10 pm - I posted this goddamned thing last night, but something is wrong with the computer!
Here I am at the last hours of today, wondering about yesterday. As for tomorrow, what comes, will. The reason I'm worrying about yesterday will come into the update later. As for the now, I'm struggling with the ongoing argument of beauty. I understand that it is important to be well kempt. This says that you take care of yourself, keep up maintainance and all that. But that should be enough. You should not be forced to spend 20 minutes on your hair everyday, 15 on makeup, thousands of dollars on clothes and hundreds more on hair. So why do I suddenly feel that I am? And is this a good thing or a bad thing?

On the one hand, looking better is never a bad thing. Usually, if you look good you feel good, and you get a more positive reaction from people. On the other hand, spending a lot of time and money on appearances is shallow, wasteful and does no actual good. I understand that there is a minimum that you should exceed in terms of personal maintanance, but if you take care of yourself, dress acceptably well and keep your appearance up, why isn't that enough? I suppose my belief stems from my upbringing. As a child, new clothes were rarely bought and hair was never done. We got our hair cut by my mother and the only requirement was to brush your hair before leaving the house. I'm the only one in my house who can actually french braid hair, curl hair or do anything more complicated than a simple knot or sweep. (I have 2 sisters. Its assumed that eyeglasses should last at least 4 years, (6 is more appropriete) and generally vanity was looked down on. I'm also the only one in the family who wears makeup, (other than my brother. He wears lots of black eyeliner). So I guess I was brought up to believe that looks didn't count for much, and ability, hard work, and friendliness were more important. Imagine the beliefs of childhood crashing down. I never know what is true. I never understand humanity.

A lot of this nonsense was brought about around the same time that I got my new job. (Yes, I have a new job). Its only 15 hours a week but its doing exactly what I want to be doing; math education. I'm an item writer, which means I write story problems. You know the kind, if Dick is 15 miles away from Jane and she's driving at 20 mph, how soon will they get pregnant? Junk like that, ignoring the preggies. Its a company here in town, (although why I've never heard of them, I don't know). The company is called Engelmann Becker and I think I like it there. I'm a little worried, because I hear the egos are huge and need constant stroking, and you know how I have a habit of opening my big dumb mouth. But I'm hoping that they will eventually realize how brilliant I am and hire me full time at a large salary. In the meantime, I'm looking for other work. I now have a foot in the door. Hah.

But I'm not going to work tonight, (I work my own hours, they don't care when or how I do it as long as I bring in new math problems). Instead, I'm going to enjoy the lovely apartment I'm in. The Tobes is out of town for Thanksgiving, and very kindly offered to let me housesit, which means away from the house, and downtown as opposed to very far away from town. This is excellent, and staying in this apartment is inspiring. Its gorgeous, well kept and very gay. I think in CharmingToby's honor, I should seduce someone. I mean, when will I get a chance like this again. Where am I going to find someone to seduce anyway? Maybe I'll just watch a porn or something and call it a day. That's not very dramatic. It is however, part of the reason I'm worrying about yesterday. Last night, my dance partner called up drunk again. He does this a lot, and I find it very funny and rather charming. And very flattering, since I'm probably the only person he feels comfortable enough around to ramble to when he's drunk. Except his roomates. And whoever's drinking with him. And the entire tango group, which he rambled to once when he had several beers. But still. He calls me. That's special. (I'm going to choose to believe I'm the only one he ritualisticly calls). I'm worried about him, because I kinda think he's interested in me. In that way. And I'm not sure I'm not interested in him. In that way. But it would be a bad idea. I mean, I'm just not ready for a relationship at this point in my life, and I think he is. And we certainly couldn't do a one night stander, he's my dance partner. I couldn't look at him the same anymore. I think when you get into a dance relationship with someone, they become close in a really odd way. Not quite like a brother/sister way because I don't really think about him as a brother, but in a friends/family kind of way. I certainly feel like he's family. And you don't date family.

OK, I think its time for bed. More updates later, but don't expect any grand seductions in the apartment. I think I've lost it, whatever it was.

Lotsa Love
Lady

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Tuesday, November 22nd, 2005
12:59 pm
Here I am at the last hours of today, wondering about yesterday. As for tomorrow, what comes, will. The reason I'm worrying about yesterday will come into the update later. As for the now, I'm struggling with the ongoing argument of beauty. I understand that it is important to be well kempt. This says that you take care of yourself, keep up maintainance and all that. In fact, dressing in flattering clothes is nice, it says you go the extra mile. But that should be enough. You should not be forced to spend 20 minutes on your hair everyday, 15 on makeup, thousands of dollars on clothes and hundreds more on hair. So why do I suddenly feel that I am? And is this a good thing or a bad thing?

On the one hand, looking better is never a bad thing. Usually, if you look good you feel good, and you get a more positive reaction from people. On the other hand, spending a lot of time and money on appearances is shallow, wasteful and does no actual good. I understand that there is a minimum that you should exceed in terms of personal maintanance, but if you take care of yourself, dress acceptably well and keep your appearance up, why isn't that enough? I suppose my belief stems from my upbringing. As a child, new clothes were rarely bought and hair was never done. We got our hair cut by my mother and the only requirement was to brush your hair before leaving the house. I'm the only one in my house who can actually french braid hair, curl hair or do anything more complicated than a simple knot or sweep. (I have 2 sisters. Its assumed that eyeglasses should last at least 4 years, (6 is more appropriete) and generally vanity was looked down on. I'm also the only one in the family who wears makeup, (other than my brother. He wears lots of black eyeliner). So I guess I was brought up to believe that looks didn't count for much, and ability, hard work, and friendliness were more important. Imagine the beliefs of childhood crashing down. I never know what is true. I never understand humanity.

A lot of this nonsense was brought about around the same time that I got my new job. (Yes, I have a new job). Its only 15 hours a week but its doing exactly what I want to be doing; math education. I'm an item writer, which means I write story problems. You know the kind, if Dick is 15 miles away from Jane and she's driving at 20 mph, how soon will they get pregnant? Junk like that, ignoring the preggies. Its a company here in town, (although why I've never heard of them, I don't know). The company is called Engelmann Becker and I think I like it there. I'm a little worried, because I hear the egos are huge and need constant stroking, and you know how I have a habit of opening my big dumb mouth. But I'm hoping that they will eventually realize how brilliant I am and hire me full time at a large salary. In the meantime, I'm looking for other work. I now have a foot in the door. Hah.

But I'm not going to work tonight, (I work my own hours, they don't care when or how I do it as long as I bring in new math problems). Instead, I'm going to enjoy the lovely apartment I'm in. The Tobes is out of town for Thanksgiving, and very kindly offered to let me housesit, which means away from the house, and downtown as opposed to very far away from town. This is excellent, and staying in this apartment is inspiring. Its gorgeous, well kept and very gay. I think in CharmingToby's honor, I should seduce someone. I mean, when will I get a chance like this again. Where am I going to find someone to seduce anyway? Maybe I'll just watch a porn or something and call it a day. That's not very dramatic. It is however, part of the reason I'm worrying about yesterday. Last night, my dance partner called up drunk again. He does this a lot, and I find it very funny and rather charming. And very flattering, since I'm probably the only person he feels comfortable enough around to ramble to when he's drunk. Except his roomates. And whoever's drinking with him. And the entire tango group, which he rambled to once when he had several beers. But still. He calls me. That's special. (I'm going to choose to believe I'm the only one he ritualisticly calls). I'm worried about him, because I kinda think he's interested in me. In that way. And I'm not sure I'm not interested in him. In that way. But it would be a bad idea. I mean, I'm just not ready for a relationship at this point in my life, and I think he is. And we certainly couldn't do a one night stander, he's my dance partner. I couldn't look at him the same anymore. I think when you get into a dance relationship with someone, they become close in a really odd way. Not quite like a brother/sister way because I don't really think about him as a brother, but in a friends/family kind of way. I certainly feel like he's family. And you don't date family.

OK, I think its time for bed. More updates later, but don't expect any grand seductions in the apartment. I think I've lost it, whatever it was.

Lotsa Love
Lady

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Tuesday, November 15th, 2005
11:59 pm
So I'm walking down the street today wearing a brown dress and black stockings. I've got on a nice trench and my hair is done. I'm looking pretty good, pretty professional, got the mojo going. And my pantyhose are slipping. Not shifting, not chafing, slipping. A lot. Guys, you probably don't know how this feels, but it is one of the more uncomfortable feelings you get to encounter if you are amoung the "weaker sex". Of course, considering that we are expected to strap our feet to stilts, wear drafty clothes, cover our faces in waxy substances and itchy powders, pull our body hair out, and starve ourselves, it certainly isn't THE most uncomfortable experience for a girl. However, as you would imagine, wrapping our lower extremities in itchy stretch gauze does have some hazards. One of those hazards is the worry of slipping, or creaping as I like to refer to it.

Anyway, walking down the street, I can feel my waist-high nylon tops slip to around my hips. Uncomfortable but bearable. Then they're starting to ride the hips. "Shit, shit, just get to where you're going and hike the suckers back into place." Ever notice how the faster you need to be somewhere the further it becomes? Oh, now the nylons are below the hips. They're clinging to the butt. I now know how all the pant-saggers of the mid-90s feel, trying to hold the pants up with one hand and look casual with the other. But I can't use my hand. "Just look casual. Just look casual. Oh god, they're actually BELOW the ass." They're barely clinging to my thighs. (I now hold deep sympathy for those brave pant saggers). In a moment of desperation, I casually walk into an alleyway and hike the bastards back up. Free and confident in my new pantyhose security, I strut back onto the street, ready to resume normal life. And they're riding again.

Re-ensue normal panic. This time they fall all the way to my KNEES before I have a chance to put them back in place. (My skirt is about knee high. There's probably a very confused bum who couldn't figure out why the waddling woman appeared to have her underwear on wrong.) I have to go to the office in an hour, where I'm suppose to make a good impression. I know there will be walking involved at some point. I don't know where I can buy new pantyhose. Just look dignified. Just look dignified.

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Friday, October 28th, 2005
6:06 pm - I still want to trade my bike in for a car
Wow. I was walking down one of the main streets in Eugene, Willamette, when I heard a clank and rattle and thud. I looked over and saw a wheel flying away from a beat up old car, across the road, bounce over the bushes and land somewhere in a parkinglot nearby. That was around the time I noticed the horrible screeching that the beat up car was making as it decelerated along the road. With only 3 tires. As soon as the car stopped, out popped a handsome young man, with a confused look on his face. Apparently he had just bought the car, and after we found his tire and confirmed that he was OK, we noticed the blaring lack of lugnuts that were suppose to be holding the wheel to the car. Imagine that. I was in a hurry, (unfortunately), so I suggested he unscrew one lugnut from each of the other tires and use those to put his wheel back on. It wasn't a permanent solution, but at least it would get him home or to the mechanics. I am a genious. I really am. I still need to get my damn liscence.

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Thursday, October 27th, 2005
4:47 pm
Not too much change in life; still @ home, still biking around town, (you should see my thighs!), still unemployed. For life at home, my parents are finally getting a divorce. This is really weird because I'm still at home, so I have to witness all the weird little things that are happening. Surprisingly, my Mom moved out and my Dad gets to keep the house. She's getting an apartment, and sooner or later, a duplex. My mom is dealing with this by having the time of her life. My dad is dealing with this by drinking and smoking. Go figure.

For the biking aspect of my life, I've recently been in two biking accidents. The first one wasn't my fault. A car didn't see me and plowed right into me. Super ouch! I had a 8" diameter bruise on my leg, a pair of ruined pants, and suprisingly, no other major injuries. The driver was kind enough to stop and make sure I was alright, (most drivers don't bother to stop), and within a week or two I was pretty much OK. (Although the leg that was bruised still bothers me. I think I bruised it really deep.) The second accident was kinda my fault. I was going down a steep hill, took a turn too fast and too sharp, slipped on some wet leaves, and the next thing I knew, I was sliding face first across the pavement. Fortunately I was wearing a helmut, but I didn't stop my glasses from breaking and digging themselves into my face. Yum. Bloody a la plastic. Other than the face and knee, I was pretty much alright, (I kiss my helmut each day. Vegetable Kathryn, although an exciting action figure, is boring in real life). Fortunately, I had a friend with me and we were only a few blocks from her house. Unfortunately, she's afraid of blood and kind of freaked out at watching her friend become one with the road. I cleaned myself up and she drove me home, and I got some weird goo that has healed my face in less than a week. (Its still pretty bruised and I have a shiner, but the scabs are pretty much gone). So I feel pretty fortunate. Needless to say, perhaps its time I think about getting a liscence.

For the unemployed aspect of life, I had a big job interview yesterday. It was for an educational software company based in Eugene that does math software. I WAS SO EXCITED. I studied the company, practiced every interview question I could and spent half an hour trying to cover my black eye with concealer. Unfortunately, they forgot to tell me that the interview was mainly asking me to write a bunch of story problems for high school, so I was totally unprepared. I didn't do very well, but I'm still hoping to get a call back and show them I can write good story problems. (I hope).

I'm also doing something called Neuofeedback. Its similar to Biofeedback, except its to train your brain. (My neuro therapist is quite impressed with my brain. Apparently it learns fast.) The only reason I can afford this is that my neuo therapist is my tango student, and we trade a few lessons a week for neurotherapy. I'm really happy with it. More later, but I have to spend some time figuring out what I'm going to be for Halloween this year. I'm not sure I can top the penis monster I was last year. (I was also Richard Simmons for a different party. I totally rock).

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Thursday, September 29th, 2005
12:24 am - A Solution EXISTS!
As many of you already know, the Vatican is expected to issue new rules soon that could bar gays from joining the priesthood. This could be a serious problem for the catholic church, considering that it is well known that a large percentile of catholic priests are gay. Unfortunately, the fact that there is a priest shortage only aggravates the matter further.

As the media has pointed out to the rest of the world, the danger in having homosexual priests is that they have earned themselves a bad name as child molesters. While many homosexual priests live normal celibate lives, there are several outliers who have endangered the priesthood for everyone else. The offenders must be punished, but not at the expense of the pious. I believe I have come up with a solution to the problem.

I'm planning on sending this letter to the Vatican, but I'd like someone to proof read it first. Let me know what you think.



Dear Pope Benedictine,

We, the members of WAPS, (Women Against Penile Stupidity), after months of debate, feel that we have finally come up with the solution to sexual misconduct in the catholic church. This innovative solution makes use of science, new technology, discipline and recovery. In essence, any priest convicted of sexual misconduct will have his penis surgically removed from his body. The penis will be cryogenically frozen and stored in the Vatican until the offender has completed mandatory community service, gone through extensive spiritual and social rehabilitation and proven that he will

Be an asset to the catholic faith
Use his male equipment only for the purposes of good and/or excretion
Not allow his task of denying all sexual urges to endanger others

Once he has proven these three requirements, he will be reintegrated into the church and his frozen penis will be reattached. If the offender repeats his crime of sexual assault, his penis along with his other sexual equipment will be removed and sold on the black market. The profits of these sales will go to educating future priests on how to properly address their sexual urges. Our hope is that once you integrate this into the catholic doctrine, nations around the world will take your example of no-tolerance for sexual predators and incorporate their own versions of penis intolerance. If this does indeed prove popular and elucidating, I’m sure the world will be proud to donate a percentage of the penis funds to the catholic church in hopes that it will provide more and better solutions to societies’ penile stupidities.

We look forward to your immediate action
WAPS (Women Against Penile Stupidity)

current mood: weird

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Sunday, May 29th, 2005
2:12 am - Make Any Sense?
Had a small population of Southern Eugene looked out their windows, they might have been surprised to see three naked youths dancing to "King of the Bongos". They probably would have been equally shocked to see a naked young lady on top of a jungle gym proclaiming herself queen or a naked young man slide down a playground slide shrieking about the cold on his ass. My life continues to feel odd.

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Monday, May 23rd, 2005
11:51 pm - New Update
This last weekend we had guest instructors at the tango center. They were pretty good, but not great. They were traveling by car I guess. I bet all their tango stuff was in their car, shoes, clothes, music . . . Guess what? The car just got stolen. Someone is out to get our tango shoes. I just know it.

current mood: scared

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Sunday, May 22nd, 2005
10:30 am - Update
Another woman had her shoes stolen! Don't know the details, but they were tango shoes. Someone call the fetish police!

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Friday, May 20th, 2005
12:21 am - It Could Happen To You
A few weeks ago, some spoogemouth fuckwit stole my bike. Right out of my parents' garage. I am so, so pissed about this, partially because it had a pair of tango shoes in it. This meant I had to buy a new bike and new tango shoes. This is not easy if you are unemployed and broke. I got an old Schwinn that I had to fix up, but I hate it. It doesn't like to change gears (at all), its massively uncomfortable to ride and I hurt my knee riding it. I hope its not permanent, but I can't ride it anymore until I either figure out how to NOT hurt my knee or get a new one. (Bike, not knee).

Oddly, when I tell people that my bike got stolen, they say "Oh wow. I'm sorry." When I tell people that my tango shoes were in the bike basket "Oh my god! I'm so sorry. Sweetie, do you want to talk about it? Thats so terrible . . ." and on and on. Nevermind that the bike was worth about 4 times what my shoes were worth. Tango people are emotionally attached to their shoes. Recently, a friend of mine had all of her tango shoes in a bag in her trunk. Some jizzhead broke into her trunk and stole the bag, probably assuming that there was some cash in the bag or something. The same week that my bike/shoes got stolen. It kinda freaked me out, that some creapy troll was stealing womens' tango shoes. However, since Eugene no longer prosecutes petty theft, (the police department keeps getting sued for molesting women so there's no money for actual policing), there's been a bit of a crime wave. Its probably just a coincidence.

But last week another friend told me that her tango shoes got stolen out of her car. Nothing else was taken, just one pair of tango shoes. There is some sick freak out there who is probably wanking off into my favorite tango sneakers as we speak.

current mood: infuriated

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Tuesday, May 17th, 2005
2:15 pm
I just saw an advertisement that said "With Great Breasts comes Great Responsibilities". The first thing that popped into my mind was "story of my life."

I don't mean to brag, but I have a rockin' rack. Its not nearly as good as it used to be, (three years ago I wore something really low cut, and spend the ENTIRE night thanking people for their blatant admiration of my perfect boobs), but the girls have still got some of that magic. Friday night we were talking about my cleavage at the TC and "the corset" came up. Why don't I ever wear it? So I wore it. Oh, did I wear it. My boobs look a-fuckin-mazing in it. Its lace-up back is supa-sexy and it really emphasizes my shapely waist. I got to dance with some of the Portland people Saturday. I think the corset was the reason. (Or it could have been the amazing cookies I brought). It brought up several very important subjects that I have been obsessing over.

The first subject: I get tango crushes on my followers. I'm not gay, and neither are they, but hot damn, I'm in love with several chicks. And they're in love with me. Weird. Guys don't have this problem. You know why guys don't have this problem? Because when two girls dance together, all the guys are thinking "YES! Hot Lesbian Action! Need Camera!" When two guys dance together the girls are thinking "God DAMNIT! The two best leads in the room, and they're dancing with each other!" Its not because guys are homophobes. Its because they're afraid of girls.

The second subject: My boobs come out for a visit, I get to dance with the best dancers in the room. (Guys and girls). My boobs stay firmly under several layers of clothing, I can dance with girls. Hmmm. Preliminary findings suggest that boobs are somehow connected to the number of guys I dance with. THIS PISSES ME OFF! I don't just mean the boob factor. Only pretty young girls get to dance. I'm not pretty, I'm not youthful, I don't get to dance. I don't know how many times seen dancers from out of town beeline for the young pretty things, leaving us ugly old women (who are WAY better dancers) on the sidelines. Skill level has no bearing on the likelihood of getting to dance. Age has little difference, since I'm only 25 and have been cast in the old-and-ugly category. Marriage status has no bearing, since several of the "pretty young things" are in their thirties and married, the only factor that a girl needs to contend with is how hot she is. 30-year-old married women who are slender and attractive will never need to worry about learning to dance. Someone else will do it for them. 25-year-old pudgy chicks with glasses will never need to learn how to dance because no one will ever dance with them. There isn't much that can be done about it either. Admittedly, if I lost some weight and put on MORE makeup, I'd have an easier time getting dances. But what about 50-year-old women who HAVE lost weight, artfully put on makeup and are good dancers? What more can they do? Offer to bake cookies for everyone who dances with them?

This is an ongoing problem for me. As a leader, I have tried to appoint myself the patron saint of older women in tango, but there's only so much I can do. Especially since I have a limited amount of time to dance, I can't adopt every beginner that is over 35, and I WOULD like to dance with my friends as well as the older women. You can't save the world. You can only try.

current mood: Busty

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Monday, April 25th, 2005
5:20 pm - What Wine Can Do For a Person
Yesterday was interesting. A private wine-tasting party, hosted by some tango aquiantances. They were real connisuers of the fermented grapes and were opening some really fancy sounding bottles of old wine. Guess who got invited? Lots of expensive wine, surgeons, historians, teachers . . . blind tasting of wine and yummy food. I didn't know the hosts all that well, but I did find out that the wife is a retired teacher, he does sculpture and that they have an open marrige. In fact, they were looking for someone to share the open marrige with. An attractive female. Ahem. . . Now before you get too excited, I should point out that although I was invited to the party, I did not attend, and only found out about the open marrige from my friend that went to the party. Here's the skinny:

Saturday afternoon a friend and I were out to pick up a bottle of wine and ran into two tango people. We didn't know them all that well, but they were there for a wine tasting, and since we were both interested in wine (she's a wine freak in the making), decided to sit around and chat for a while. As it turned out, they were mega wine freaks, and were hosting a wine tasting of their own. They were getting together with a bunch of wine friends with the theme "old wines" and wer opening some very fancy sounding bottles of wine to taste. They invited us! Since they looked at my friend first, I assumed they were really interested in her coming and I was just an afterthought, but she thought that they wanted me and she was the afterthought. Either way, invited I got. It sounded like superduper fun, plus I'd get to talk to interesting educated people, and drink yummy expensive wine and hopefully injest lots of alchy-hol. Unfortunately, the requirement was bring a bottle of wine at least 8 years old. Where the fuck do I get 8 year old wine? I know, I know, at a winery, stupid. Well, I had a lesson with my dance partner, we were going to split a lesson with the tango nazi and I couldn't back out at the last second. Besides, I was broke and wasn't sure I could afford a bottle of wine that would suit their standards. As it turned out, I was DAMNED lucky I chose to tango. My friend decided to go, and when I talked to her afterward, she was, um, kind of shocked. Admittedly, its possible that they were only interested in her, but invited me to the party to be polite. They may not have been interested in me as a third party. But what if I had gone and the thought did cross their mind that I might make a good extra? You guys know how I am: Instant slut. Just add alchohol. If I had been sloshed enough on expesive old wine, god KNOWS what I would have woken up to this morning. This one was too close a call. Especially since all I've been able to think about recently has been sex sex sex. I need a hormone inhibitor. I also need to remember to NEVER drink expensive wine at strangers houses.

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Wednesday, April 6th, 2005
7:24 pm - I Burn with Fiery Rage
This morning I opened up the most recent issue of Newsweek. I like this magazine, I think of it as just left of middle-of-the-road. (I don't care what anyone says, I don't think that Newsweek is "liberal"). I was skimming through the articles and my eye caught this:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/7369199/site/newsweek/

This pissed me off. And demoralized me. And pissed me off. And intrigued me. And horrified me. And disgusted me. And pissed me off. I don't get it. I mean, I really don't understand. WHY would you hire someone to do your work for you in college? OK, so the reason to go to college is to get "the piece of paper". The reason to get the "piece of paper" is to get a job. The reason to get a job is to get paid lots of money. The reason the job wants the "piece of paper" is that "the piece of paper" says the owner is competent in some random field of something. If you have "the piece of paper" but are NOT competent in said random field, its usually obvious. The job no longer wants you, you no longer get paid lots of money, back to square 1.

I understand that 10-year-olds would rather play WarCraft than write a paper, but these are ADULTS. If you don't do your own damn homework, you don't learn the crap you're suppose to, which is the point of college, right? Arguably, its possible that you already know the crap you're suppose to, but these people clearly don't. ("junior in a private Christian University who couldn't spell college", "typical surfer retard", etc.). And getting a top degree in a top university is worthless once anyone finds out you're a dumb-ass. You're not just shooting yourself in the foot, you're paying someone else to load the gun.

OK, so perhaps the reason isn't to get a job. Maybe you've already got $$. THEN WHY PAY SOMEONE TO GO TO COLLEGE FOR YOU??? If you never plan to work a day in your life, don't hire someone to dress you in work clothes and put a little fake dirt under your fingernails. No one is impressed. (Sorry, I'm getting into this rant a bit too much).

America makes me sick.

current mood: annoyed

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Monday, March 28th, 2005
1:22 pm
I've made up a new song. Its funny.

(Sung to the tune of Daisy Daisy from Space Odyssey 2001)
David David
Give me a tango-do
I'm just livid
When I don't dance with you-oo
It won't be a stylish tanda
I'm not built like Jane Fonda (I'm not, ok?)
But when we dance
We start to laugh
Because tango was made for two-oo

I'm going to sing it to my dance partner David (He's the guy that the brick was going to attack. Long story, short reason). I had a little trouble rhyming stuff, but I think it turned out alright. David and livid almost rhyme. I hope he'll laugh.

This weekend the Eugene ladies go up to Portland for the Lady Milonga. I went last year and it was really fun. They had a massause, which always means fun. I'm kinda hoping that a guy shows up in drag this year. Just because it would be funny. Speaking of drag and stuff, I keep going back to the question: am I a lesbian? I'm pretty sure I'm not; I mean, I think I'm attracted to guys (even though I don't like sex and get kinda edgy when a guy starts hitting on me) and its normal for girls to think other girls are pretty, right? The thing is, I keep getting tango crushes on my follows. At least I think they're tango crushes. But how do you know the difference between a tango crush and attraction? I think they key is that I know a lot of lesbians and I'm not attracted to them. Well, not overly attracted anyway. I don't know. All this means is that I'm a sexually screwed up individual. Anyone know someone with a really good gay-dar?

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Wednesday, March 23rd, 2005
4:28 pm
I'm really mad at David. Pissed might be a better word. I've been sitting here thinking about the believability of the statement "Yes officer. I was just minding my own business when I saw this giant brick sneak up behind him and start bludgeoning him. Why? I don't know. Maybe he insulted the bricks' mother. Whatever it was, that brick seemed pretty upset." I think it might be feasable. Especially if I wore something low-cut and heaved my bossom a lot. Is seducing a police officer before he arrests you illegal? What if he really enjoyed it? Of course, what if he didn't? Does that mean he's gay or that he just doesn't like being raped by buxom 25-year old murderers? What if the murderer REALLY needs it? I mean, they're suppose to be aiding the community, what if part of the community really really really needed to get laid? I need to stop thinking.

The reason for all this anger? That ratfink wanker ratted me out to Elizabeth, the Tango Nazi. Granted, I was going to have a little talk with her anyway about abusing her helper (me), but I didn't want to start the conversation with "WHAT did David tell you? He said I WHAT? For HOW MANY MONTHS?" I dunno.

Anyway, life continues to go on around me, (my life doesn't go on, but that's another story), and I will forgive him. Besides, he's the one thats driving us up to Portland tonight for tango, so I suppose I should get over myself pretty soon and start getting ready. I will leave the brick at home. I will leave the brick at home. I will leave the brick at home. (I suppose this could be construed as premeditated). Crud.

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Thursday, January 27th, 2005
1:29 pm
Considering that I don't have much nerve, its taken me a long time to gather it all up.

I FINALLY emailed old profs. today asking them for recomendations. I've been putting it off for a month now. Pretty shabby. Anyway, 2 out of 3 have written back with a yes, WHOOO! so I'm one step closer to my goal. My next big problem is whether or not to include ASU. The applications say "Please list all each community college, junior college, college and university you have attended" but does that mean I have to put in ASU? Isn't there some way around it? And while I'm thinking about it, do I have to include all my internships like Carleton College and Trinity? I hate this crap. Anyone want to apply for me?

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Saturday, December 25th, 2004
1:35 pm - Santas been good to me
Christmas time again and the world keeps turning. It should come as no surprise that tango does not break for major holidays, but it was a little unusual that a Roman tango teacher should stop by looking for tango love on said eve. Yet he did, and recieved.

A little cryptic. So my tango evening started at about 10pm. I wore a red dress that covered everything but a diamond on each shoulder. Stunning. Black lace nylons and a red Santa hat. Fiesty. Street sneakers on the feet. Fucking Hellbeast!! I forgot my tango shoes, so I had to wear my street shoes. They do not pivot. They look really ugly. I did not follow. I also forgot my key to the tango center. Crud. Oh well, there are 2 other people who can lock up for me.

I spent the last two weeks painstakingly making aprox. 30 dishclothes as gifts for tango people. They take 1-2 hours each. Lots o' work. I think they were appreciated. So my tango evening was productive. I danced, I made merry, I gave out dishclothes. Around 12:30 most people had left, we were getting ready to leave. In comes Filipo, an Italian tango teacher (handsome) who happened to be in the neighborhood. He had already given some classes in town on tango, (raved about), and was staying with friends of his in town. Well, Yifong was too shy to dance with him, Marisella danced a few and went home, whose job was it to entertain our guest? Heh. In ugly street sneakers. Yeah baby.

Well, everyone else wanted to leave. Hmmm, maybe its time to kick him out. Oops, he lost his key to his friends' house and didn't want to wake him. Could he just shack up in the tango center for the night? Thanks. Ok, we're leaving. But Filipo and I are still dancing. He doesn't want to stop, and theres no WAY I'm going to ask such a fantastic international dancer to quit dancing with me. Fine. I'll lock up when we're done dancing. (No keys. SHIT. I didn't bring my bike, and its an hour and a half walk home. Super shit.) Continue dancing anyways.

This is the part where I start blushing. It occurs to me that he doesn't seem opposed to dancing the night away with me in his arms, he's sleeping on the futon in the tango center anyway, I'm suppose to be entertaining him and there's no way home. To fuck or not to fuck? He's young, handsome, accent, interested, oh god he's nuzzling my neck. Its 2:30 and we've been dancing for an hour anyway, no sense in walking home . . .

I was a good girl. I told him it was late and had him drive me home. (Greg had given him a key as it turned out). I had a good nights sleep, but not before I thought about the night. I said no to a handsome, brilliant tango dancer that was leaving the next day. I said no and he was ok with that. I was ok with that. In fact, I was relieved. I gave up men two years ago and I'm holding to that. (But it felt good to have someone attracted to me. Just once).

I think I'm finally realizing its ok to say no. And I CAN say no. I can get over this horribly abusive spiral of sex and men. Santa gave me a great present. I had great tango with an attractive man, learned something about tango and learned something about me.

Seasons Greetings to y'all. Have a good week.

current mood: relieved

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Friday, December 17th, 2004
9:05 am - Nothing exciting
Well, its finally happened. The girls of tango have convinced me to teach a lady lead course. I'm such a whore. I've also taken on two students, (one who is a masseause. She pays me in massage. Heheheheheheh). Since there are like, 8 other teachers in Eugene, I've had a hard time justifying the need for one more. Cognitive disodence and all, I've decided that this one class will fill a small but important nich.

The theory behind the class is (I'm thinking way to hard about this) a woman who can follow at an intermediate-advanced level already knows half of tango. She already has a good sense of musicality, movement, the steps, and the essence of tango. She just doesn't know how to lead. If she wants to learn, she can either take a beginning course or an intermediate course. If she takes a beginning course, she is reintroduced to tango as if she has never danced before. She has to learn to lead beginners, (hard) and the class moves slowly. No fun. If she takes an intermediate class as a leader she is expected to know how to lead already, and if she can't perform may be pressured to follow since this is a role she already understands. My class is designed for people who understand half of tango already. It is taught from a followers' perspective, i.e. "this is how I like my leader to lead me" and followers will have the chance to lead other followers. I've spent a lot of time thinking about this.

My problem is that a lot of guys are asking about this class. I've told them that if they follow at an intermediate level and are willing to wear a dress, they are allowed to join. The problem with that is I'm afraid I'm going to have a class full of men in dresses that can't follow. Joy. Maybe I should rethink my approach.

Christmas is coming and I still haven't done my shopping. I've decided that I'm suedo-against mass consumerism so I'm trying to make a lot of my presents. This includes 30 crotcheted dishrags for my tango friends. Uggggg. I'm still going to buy something for most of my family, but it should be interesting. I thought a colostomy bag would be a good gift for my brother. (No, this isn't a joke. He'd love one. He's weird like that). Or maybe a manual on how to insert a colostomy bag. Ew.

I've been meaning to print three t-shirts. I just can't find nice blank t-shirts to print on. I have really funny logos that I want to use on them. MUST FIND T-SHIRTS!! Ah well. My sis is home from the UK, and I should spend some time with her. If only she wakes up.

Kissy Kissy
Me

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