Thursday, September 01, 2005
So, Babette is really pissed at me because I refused to make her a latte. I have explained to her that lattes, which have become my favourite mid afternoon work-from-home snack, are simply not suitable for young growing cats. I told her that, but it didn’t stop her from jumping up to the counter to get to the espresso tin. Very badly behaved.
I need this afternoon pick-me-up. Tonight I will be going to the opening night of the Funk ‘n Soul Festival. Good times. It may actually take me out of my house every night for a ten day period. I have no idea what I am going to wear. Due to that damn Amerie video for “1 Thing” (I watched it on the special features section of the “Hitch” DVD) I feel like less of a woman.
Oh if only I were a Hip Hop/R&B diva. It is my next life goal. I think it is almost reachable. Ok perhaps the main diva is out of reach, but I would settle for “background dancer diva” or “crowd diva” or “girlfriend diva.” I mean I could go to the gym and build up the physical stamina to dance hard-core to the latest Hip Hop groves. I could hit the Bobby Brown make up counter to get the supplies I need. And really, my hair is already fabulous. It’s just the commitment.
I like physical fitness, but I have been lazy this summer. That’s OK once in a while. And I can’t be bothered to put on make up every morning (although, my love for make up grows and blossoms each day). And sometimes, I’d rather have a simple glass of wine instead of Kristal. Is that so wrong?
I do know that I will be wearing comfortable shoes, because I’m gonna dance tonight.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
So, the other day, I had drinks with my friend who shall remain nameless for the purposes of this blog. She’s a nice girl, honest girl, interesting girl. She’s got a bit of an edge and I like that.
Before we sat down for a drink she picked up a pair of shorts being sold at a discount rate at a sidewalk sale and said “Oh I like these but will they cover my…fat vagina?” I assumed she was joking, or perhaps I didn’t hear her right. But, no, she was serious. Girl has a fat vagina. I asked for an explanation.
Apparently Fat Vagina Syndrome (or FVS as we have come to call it) is common among Asian women. This is news to me. She tells me that Margaret Cho has one, as do some of her friends.
I have no idea what that would look like, no clue. Nor do I want to do any research. But, I wonder if it makes camel toe a chronic problem. I wonder if it would look all that different that a standard vagina. I wonder why it is common among Asian woman. I know that lactose intolerance is common in both the black and Jewish community. I know that osteoporosis is most common in older white women. But that FVS has me flabbergasted.
Anyway, you learn something new every day.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
So, last night, Anne and I went to Salon Daome to cut a rug. The DJ was amazing. I watched him dancing a bit behind his turntables and now I think I love him. He has inspired me to write the following open letter.
Dear DJs the World Over,
Is it clear that we all love you? It’s clear to me. The scores of adoring girls who would line up in extreme heat and bitter cold just for the chance to dance in front of your tables must inflate your egos to no end. It is hard to believe that you wouldn’t notice. It is hard to believe that you wouldn’t use your power for evil.
Equal parts kryptonite and dynamite, you disarm the urban woman. Our defenses weakened and our hearts racing we fall for you night after night after night. We are powerless when you are hunched over the wax. We hang on every beat, sway to your rhythms, and gyrate as you dictate. We wait breathlessly for our favourite tune and our sweat greets the new songs you introduce.
Your powers are positively supernatural. Of the multitudes of gods and icons, who have come to symbolize the party, you are more Nataraj than Dionysus. It is not about lechery and excess. You provoke our dancing to a cosmic level. Yours is the universe of musical pleasures and we inhabit it passionately.
You are uniquely able to reach out to me. You could break my heart, and I would forgive you. I know you are bad boys and sweet boys, play boys and lover boys. I know there are a hundred girls waiting for you to look their way and I know you are only human. But still I feel special on your dance floor. I feel that you lay down the vinyl for me alone. I see you and I am smitten. I give in. I am yours, even if it is for just one night.