Days to England: 7
Operation Mini-Skirt Status: 9 lbs. to my first goal. Nine! Where did that extra pound come from? I didn't eat a pound of food yesterday! And I went to dance last night and left the studio positively dripping with sweat! Dripping! Argh!
You'll notice I'm not freaking out about London, even though it's only a heartbeat away. Distressing. I need to get hyped up.
Perhaps the promise of a good London boy will do it. Thing is... they always have summer teeth (read: some are here, some are there) and really? I can't wrap my mind around that. (My apologies to those lovely English lads without the dreaded chops. You guys should form a club or something.)
God, I wonder if I'll be able to see Jude? (He has relatively even teeth, if I remember correctly - though it doesn't matter. We're Just Friends.) It'd be great though, but for the fact that I'm going to be tied up with work 85% of the time and he's a three-hour drive away in Cardiff. It hardly seems worth asking him to come up. Pity. We have such fun together.
But some of my B.E.E.R. mates are there, so the promise of fun does exist, if only in truncated form. More on that later. I'm not quite ready to get hyped up yet.
* * *
So, I've got this fabulous new cha cha routine that Sergei and I have been working on at the studio.
You remember Sergei, don't you? He's my dance instructor, and my partner for showcases and competitions and such. He's tall and slim and graceful. He dresses stylishly and with panache. He's got great hair and fabulous shoes. He speaks with a slight lisp. I can't tell you the number of times I've had to explain that no, he's not gay. He's just Russian. Thatís just the way he sounds.
(Is it just me, or have I managed to be horribly offensive to not one, but two different nationalities today?)
Anyway, ever since Rob Thomas lent his voice to Santana for Smooth, I've wanted to have something choreographed to it. And it's happened, it's wonderful, and I'm doing it. Except for one thing... I've got a private lesson with Sergei tonight, and I Forgot. The. Damn. CD. Again. Which means I'll be dancing to Quantanamera tonight, which isn't horrible... but it's just not Smooth!
It's that kind of day, poppets. I can't get it right, even if I want to very, very badly.
Right. I'd best be off. I've been here since seven this morning, and I'm still late for the rest of my day.
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