Mr. Fashionisto

While watching The Voice:

If it's between his sweater



and her hat,




Adam's sweater clearly loses this battle round.

That? Is from Eddie. Who knew he cared?

Hand Dance Challenge

Sometimes dance class calls for a little bit of amusement. The dances are great, but in reviewing and not learning new dances, S and I look for ways to keep it lively.

No one else ever joins in the fun. They dance as if it is their job.

So when it came time to paddle to the side, I waved my arms around as if to say to S, top that.

S responded with, is that a challenge?

I replied, yes, yes I think it is a challenge.

And so when the music came out, the hands came out. I swerved my wrists around and made my hands to circles over my head. S turned and put her pointer fingers up in the air.

Round 1: wash

I flicked my fingers to the side. S added a clap. I laughed hysterically.

Round 2: S

I made it seem as if I were jumping rope. S swirled one wrist above her head, a la Jean.

Round 3: Me

We both simultaneously went low, shrugging our shoulders to the floor, unplanned.

Round 4: Total tie--we know each other too well.

Then we realized just how long the song is. Aside from some snapping and adding in some extra head movement (think pigeon), there was not much left to choose from lest we really interrupt the class and change up the feet.

So at the end, we tied. In my heart, I won. I'm sure S feels the same way in hers.

What was going on in the rest of the class? No one seemed to appreciate our flair. Still, no one condemned it. Flair on.

Then we did Hello, Dolly. Surprising, isn't it? We added flair by skipping and leaping into the moves and bringing our hands higher and lower than necessary.

Again, no one joined in. I suppose I have a dream that one day our class will be like how it is in the movies and everyone will start doing that African Tribal dance from Can't Buy Me Love and everyone will do it perfectly and it will be awesome.

Until then, hand dance challenge with flair.

Accidental Almost Circle Jerk

Eddie and I have a list of things we want to do together. We do things here and there throughout the year, going on one big date once a month and then maybe three other dates throughout the rest of the month, the rest of the time being spent working and dueling with those rods you use to turn your blinds.

As our two year anniversary of our first date approached, I came home to find a sign hanging in the kitchen from the cupboards, the first thing visible as I walked in. He was there too, all smiles. I was like, What did you do? He was like, Read the sign. It was a clue. I was on a scavenger hunt.

So I followed each clue through the rooms of the house. I found the final clue in the chest in our living room that said we were going on a date to the Museum of Sex to celebrate. Yeay! Then Eddie explained that he thought a scavenger hunt would be fun but never did one and actually googled how to set one up. Awwwwww.

We'd bought a Groupon for the museum a few months back. I guess it was on the list because a lot of museums in NYC are on the list. So there we were--heading to the sex museum early in the morning on a weekend. What better way to kick off the weekend?

I'm not a prude. Okay, well, after walking into the lobby of the museum which is also its gift shop, I found that perhaps I am a prude. I think that I'm not a prude only after 11 AM. Maybe. I don't know. What I do know is that there was a bicycle built for two set up in the entryway and if you peddaled it, a penis attached to the front of it would move back and forth. Remember, this is only the gift shop; still, I don't think that was for sale.

In addition to the permanent collection that is about animals having sex--we saw not only a whole lot of monkeys having sex, but also all kinds of creatures diddling themselves--the new exhibition was about the history of sex and film.

So basically, we walked into a room with strangers--and those strangers at the sex museum were very very strange--and watched porn with them. Immediately, Eddie was looking around all creeped out, not by the porn but by the people's faces while staring at the porm. I acted as if I were in a completely normal museum and read the stuff on the walls and pointed out interesting facts about porn. I also found out that cartoon porn is the best kind of porn because it's not really gross like a lot of live action porn. Who knew? Now you do.

We spent about an hour tops in the museum. When we got back out into the fresh air, we both felt a little less clean. Happy Anniversary!

Bad Bad Bank

TD Bank needs to look up "convenient" in a dictionary. As America's most convenient bank, it offers an out-of-order ATM every single time we go, long lines, and errors, as in when Eddie set up his checking account, they sent the checks to a non-existent address, and they also stopped his debit card from working because of their idea of a suspicious charge (we've never figured out what that was) and then neglected to tell him that his card was shut off and he found out only when he called them and they were like, Oh yeah, we shut that off.

If that's not enough, try this one on for size.

We went to deposit money from another bank. This was the business-start-up-money. This was important money. The line is from the counter to out the door. No one is moving. Someone from where the desks are come over to tell us that their computer system is down and it will be a few minutes before it starts up again, but if anyone wants to make a deposit but not get a receipt, they can do that.

Really? Put money into your bank and not get a receipt. I wouldn't do that anywhere, but especially not at TD, where they shut off accounts and send checks into outerspace. I said so to Eddie. The woman on line in front of us turned and said, You are so right. Apparently, everyone has problems there.

Someone asked if they could instead use the ATM. Nope, that's part of the system that's down.

And so we waited about twenty minutes for the line to start moving. Then we waited another eight or ten for our turn and transaction. Thankfully, it was over.

Fast forward to the next day. Eddie checks his account online. The checks have cleared! Yeay!

Fast forward to the evening. Eddie comes home after going to get his money in the form of bank checks from the bank so that he can close on his business contract. Eddie has no bank checks.

Me: Why don't you have the bank checks?

Eddie: The checks didn't clear from the other bank yet.

Me: But your account says that they did and that the money is available.

Eddie: I know. The bank manager told me that they do that as more of a courtesy for customers.

Me: So it's courteous to tell people they have money available that isn't really available.

Eddie: That's what he explained to me.

TD Bank, while you have your dictionary out and open to the C's, also look up "courtesy."

Just Dumb Enough To Be Amazingly Witty

I'm probably way behind on the times, but I just found Cleverbot and had this conversation:

Me: How many more papers should I grade.

Cleverbot: What are you talking about?

Me: The papers. How many?

Cleverbot : All these personality switches and misunderstandings.

Me: Seriously, too many.

Cleverbot: Yes, you are right, my liege! I see it now! Icon was behind the silo razings, and if we hire a hero to bring him to justice, then perhaps the Hobgoblin Empire will see reason!

Me: What about the bread route?

Cleverbot: Erm, cantaloupe.

Me: Yes! Thank you!

Cleverbot: You're welcome.

Dancin In The Dark

Two things happened at dance class that were the top highlights of the evening and had nothing to do with dancing. Once happened because of the next. A one-two sock-it-to-me that simply made my night.

When S and I approached the building from the parking lot, I noticed that the room looked dark. Were there dancers in there? Was Jean there? Was class canceled?

We walked up the stairs and down the hall and saw that the class was there, standing in a dark room. The hallway had lights. The snack bar area had lights. The pool had lights. This room was the only unlit place in the building.

The lack of light did not stop Jean from teaching. The class was already in the middle of learning one of the usual Irish dances we've learned in the past. As soon as March hits, we have to do Irish dances. I, in fact, LOVE the Irish dances. They make me so happy. I feel like Christina Flatley, Lady of the Jig.

So there we were, dancing in the dark. Highlight Number 1. Absurd? Kind of. But dancers persevere.


Unfortunately, there's no line dance for this song.

During the dance, Jean left the room. Everyone kept dancing. I assume she went to see about the lights. She also stopped dancing and walked over to the iPod during the last 32 counts of the next dance, so maybe not. Jean just likes to do her own thing.

Between dances, S approached one of the regulars in front of us. She asked, Did anyone say why the lights are out?

Enter Highlight Number 2: the woman responded, I don't know that dance.

S related the conversation to me once more to make sure it was real....why are the lights off...I don't know that dance. Clearly, the woman had no idea what S was asking about.

Just about that time, the lights came on. Never have I realized how bright florescent lights could be until that moment. Oh, it was awful. Also awful? How everyone looks slightly blue in florescent lights. It's bad. Really bad.

In any case, Jean ran through the catalog of 97 dances, all on the mysterious charts, including a dance that the loud woman in the clique described as A CLASSIC! when one woman asked if it was a popular dance.

Once we got to the dance we'd learned the last week, people started having problems. Like not knowing the dance. That's when Jean decided she was not going to teach us more dances because no one could remember the dances and what's the point in teaching dances if we can't dance them. Well there's a thought.

We continued to run through several more including Friggin Hello Friggin Dolly. Honestly, I don't mind the dance when we do it--it's fun and good cardio--but the thought of doing it annoys me because (1) we do it all the time as a filler when Jean can't decide what else to do and (2) people STILL DON'T KNOW IT. How that's possible, I'll never know.

Definition of Bad Timing

Finding single men in New York was not my favorite activity. I was single for a very long time. During that very long time, I had very bad dates. Also during that time, once I upped my standards, I had no dates at all. So if any of my single gal pals need me, I there.

That means that I found myself sitting at a bar by myself while one of my single friends was speed dating on the other side of the wall in the lounge. We'd gotten there early to check out people as they walked in. The host came in and guessed what we were there for. He was very excited and kept telling my friend that she was lucky because he had 14 and 14 (guys and girls) and tonight was going to be fun, a lot of fun, fun, fun, fun.

She looked at me when he left with a face that said, We should run out of here now.

Instead, we stayed. I sent her on a mission--find out what material comprised his shirt because it was semi-shiny and structured, like no material I'd ever seen before.

While the doorways between the bar and the lounge were blocked off with sheets, the dating was not very private from the small group of guys who were watching the Duke game, me, and the couple next to me who had to be on their second or third date (more on that in a moment). We couldn't see what was happening, but we could hear it. The host had a mic and as soon as I heard, Can I have everyone's attention?, I was like, oh here we go.

No one else in the bar knew what was going on in the other room so they all came to attention, trying to figure it out. That sent several people over to the doorways to peek at the action. The guy on the date came back laughing to his date, saying, They're speed dating! Would you ever do that? I've never done that. They're speed dating!

The basketball guys were just laughing--Speed dating! hahahhahahhahahhahaha.

You know, mature reactions.

The hooting and hollering only increased when they heard the host say, Now thirty seconds to take notes! They were like, Take notes? Really? Notes????

Then the host came out during the second "date" period of four minutes to tell me that two of the girls didn't show up. He was like, Can you believe that? I was like, Um, I don't know? He then asked again, You're married right? I answered, Yup. He responded, That's not helpful; you can't help. I answered, No, but thanks? Yeah, that's right. Two of my answers to him were in question form because I was confused as to why he was talking to me. In any case, I want his job. It sounds fun. I'd get to wear a name tag and everything.

Now to the couple on their second or third date. If it had been me on that date, I would have fallen off the barstool on purpose to injure myself so I would have to go home or to the hospital, either one being of equal value. This is what I know about this guy: he likes expensive things, he buys only expensive things, he likes to buy things that cost a lot rather than things that don't, his four friends chipped in to buy him one expensive gift for his 30th birthday because they know he likes expensive things, he's been to Germany where he found other travelers who bought him beer, and he likes the tv show House.

The girl, however, seemed to enjoy his very loud talking and even got a few words into the conversation: she's been to Paris and likes to watch How I Met Your Mother.

Anyway, the speed dating came to an end after about an hour and 45 minutes, including one break in the middle. Why take a break? It's speed dating, right? I guess that doesn't matter. My friend did not find out the material of the host's shirt but she did meet some "interesting" guys. None that were her type. I knew that as soon as the thing started. No one had come through the door that caught her eye. I mean, some were like my height. I'm not kidding. On the flip side, several of them came over to talk to her afterwards. They were also totally breaking the rules by saying, I'll see you again right? right? right? The whole point of speed dating is to avoid that awkward moment when you reject someone. The speed dating service does that for you.

How do I know so much about speed dating? I went on Hurry Date once. Let's move on before I purposely fall off my chair to injure myself.

So that's the tale of my friend's speed dating experience. However, that's not the point. I told you that story so I could tell you this one.

I called out to Eddie who was in his man-cave-room, Are you okay with my going with my friend to speed dating? He asked, What are you going to wear? I said, A shirt that covers up my boobs. He said, Yeah, sure.

The morning after speed dating, my cell phone rang. I was on the couch, so I didn't get up to get it. Anyone who knows me well enough for me to actually want to talk to them on the phone knows to call my house phone to try me at home. Eddie was near it so he told me it was an unknown number. He joked, Is it a guy from speed dating?

I responded, Like I told you even before I went, no one talked to me.

It's true. There I was at the bar all by myself, and not one person talked to me. Eddie had been sure that someone would have at least tried to hit on me. I told him it wasn't going to happen. And it didn't. I think that I give off a "leave me alone" vibe when I'm alone. In fact, I probably give off that vibe even when I'm not.

Anyway, I told him to check the message. He listened to maybe two seconds of it before tossing me the phone. It's a guy, he said, part annoyed part amused.

I was like, No it's not.

He was like, Listen to it.

I listened. Wow, it was a guy. Of course, Eddie hadn't listened to what the guy was saying. He'd just heard Man Voice and decided to make me figure it out.

The guy was calling to ask about how many bedrooms the house I was selling had. I told Eddie, apparently I not only own a house, but I'm selling it.

Eddie was like, you're gonna be making some money soon? I was like, good timing with your buying a business and all. He was like, we're rich. Yes, yes we are.

Point To The Wall you'll Land On. Eventually.

Making friends is my strong suit. We should all know this by now. So it should come as no surprise that S and I were not even into the third eight count of our first dance in dance class when we made a whole room full of them. Jean began with a dance everyone already knew. S and I forgot that even though we know the dance, we are supposed to relearn it and not act as if we've learned it before. And so, when Jean got into her second eight count directly from the first, we continued doing the dance while everyone else stopped, bewildered and perhaps frightened.

S quickly said, That right there is what you would call the defining moment of making friends.

Yes, yes it is. She was so up in my head because that's EXACTLY what I'd been about to say.

We had no time to discuss our newfound and reinforced friendships because Jean turned on the music and we all danced with her calling out the steps as loudly as she could. She decided not to use the microphone this week. I was thankful for that since every time she uses the microphone, she yells out the steps over the ever-present hushshshshsshshhhhhhhssssshhhhhhhhhh that comes from it.

We learned Jamaica Me Cha Cha (which is not an offensive title at all) when that dance ended. It was probably the most complicated dance we've done so far. That means that the perfect time to make random announcements would be between the third and forth eight counts. Jean turned to us and said that she had a great time at dancing on Saturday and that over 100 people had been there. Then she turned to the Irish Catholic sisters and Dances With Walls and said, Tell them about the refreshments! You'd think that as a dance teacher she'd be excited about the dancing, but no, Jean gets excited about the spread that goes along with the dancing.

Anyway, back to the not at all offensively titled Jamaica Me Cha Cha. When Jean did the first eight count, S and I were like, Nope, did not get that at all. When S and I don't get it AT ALL, there's going to be a problem in the form of a dance meltdown. Jean did it again. We almost got it. Jean did it again and then moved onto the second eight counts. We got the first eight and then struggled with the second.

Then suddenly, S and I got it no problem. All it took was a few times and the seemingly very diffcult and tricky dance wasn't a problem.

Still making friends.

Most of the class was still struggling because it included some turns that came quickly and the "we're landing on that wall" instruction didn't help since Jean tells us about which wall we'll land on about 32 counts too soon so everyone kept turning towards the wrong wall. Also, pointing to the wall really is not as helpful as one might think, especially when everyone points to a different wall.

And that's when S asked, Where did that woman come from? She pointed to a woman who has been attending since the very first class. I was like, I don't know; she's been in this class. She was like, No she hasn't. Then I realized that S had never seen the woman because the wall in the middle of the room blocked her. See what walls do? They impede you from making as many friends as possible.



We danced that cha cha twice and then it was onto other dances like Cooler Than Me during which some dancers have a difficult time walking forward for four counts, turning around, and walking back for four counts. I shit you not. This is intermediate, people. Oh, and, this is not the first time we've done this song.



Then we learned more dances, meaning we did dances we already know. I was really tired for some reason and Jean kept saying we were going to take a water break but that never happened. Every time we finished a dance, she'd say, we'll take a break, and then she'd put on music and start dancing so that everyone would be almost to the side of the room to get water and then would stop in their tracks, run back into place, and start dancing.

By the time we got to Love Letter Waltz, I felt like my legs were gonna give out. That did not help with this dance since Jean instructs us to use as much room as possible. That meant that Scottish Dance Lady and I were on a collision course since she and I were using the same space. We had a few close calls but worked it out. Safety first!

After that, I sat down on a chair and sipped some water and told myself I would not jump up for Jean if she put on the music. But then she put on Something In The Water. She knows what makes me dance. I jumped up and started dancing. A few other people were dancing. Yet, instead of allowing others to jump in mid-dance, she stopped the music and then restarted it for the slower people. So my jump up was unnecessary. Way to play with my heart, Jean.

The Real Scene

Poets In Nassau has been going strong for a few years. I continue to coordinate readings. I believe in supporting fellow writers and artists. I love my community. When I saw signs in the window of a shop nearby that said a coffee shop was coming soon, I knew it was going to be exactly what I'd been dreaming of. I was right.

Sip This came into the picture as not only a cafe, but as a place to celebrate the arts, play trivia, play board games, watch movies, host community outreach, and have an overall fan-dang-tastic time.

Once the First Fridays venue for my group came to an end for a second time, I asked Sip This if they'd be interested in our little group having readings there. They were. They allow us to come in and take over. Sure, it's good for their business as everyone buys something to drink and something to eat, but, more importantly, it feels like home.

So far, we've had two readings and they have been exactly everything I've envisioned readings to be since I founded the group. The other venues have been solid and supportive and generous. This one has shaped up to be the same in no time. I'm happy that the group is thriving, and I hope the other writers are finding it as energizing as I am.