Party #1

The lack of sleep has been catching up with me. I think I'm experiencing a minor migraine. I have the stupids and feel unmoored. Everything has surreal properties, and my eyesight isn't being interpreted correctly by my brain. Fortunately, today's my day off, and I can afford to have a day of utter stonedness. I sure hope it's gone by tomorrow, though!

The birthday party was a smash. My apartment was a beach, and waves of people came and went while I danced like a sandpiper amongst them. Who was all there? ( Well, let's see if I can remember, by order of appearance.... )

Party #2

Last night, I danced at a Goddess theme party. This is a regular gig for me, and the third year I've done it. The women are all very interesting people, and are comprised of artists, martial artists, jewellers, chefs, and dancers. Unfortunately, I was not off to a good start, last night. I hadn't had much sleep the night before (a few of my birthday party guests stayed very late), and I'd worked at the store all day. When I got home, I slipped into the bathtub to relax for a couple of minutes before getting in costume.

I fell asleep in the tub, and had to rush to get everything ready. I wore my blue and gold pantaloons, my red, white, and black silk skirts, my brown, blue, red, and green tribal belt, my new black choli with multicoloured shisha embroidery. I left my head uncovered because I'd had a special request to do some zaar-influenced dance, and a turban just wouldn't stay on. This is the only gig I have where particular types of dance are requested. All the others just want me to dance, and don't ask for special props or dance styles.

Finally, I was all set, and I called the cab. The driver was an enormous man who only barely fit into the driver's seat. He was built like a stevedore or a foundry worker, and had a rough face to match. Incongruously, the CD he was playing was ballads by the Backstreet Boys.

He drove me to the address, and it didn't seem quite right to me. There were no cars in the driveway. I walked to the side entrance, and the cab pulled away. The door was locked, and despite my knocking, the only response was a cat peeking furtively from a window.

It was drizzling out, but not too badly. I figured I was probably just off by one block, so I walked up the street until I came to the right house. For some reason, I had written the address as 66 when it was really 166. Thank goodness it wasn't 966! In any case, the walk gave me my warmup.

I got there a couple of minutes late because of the walk, but it was ok. The other guests were all running late, too. The hostess welcomed me in and made chitchat while she was preparing some sangria. She asked me when my last dance experience had been, and I told her the night before, at my own birthday party.

Surprised, she said, "That makes you a Gemini!"

"Uh, yes, I guess it does."

"Well, that's just weird. I can't stand Geminis. That makes you the only one I've ever liked!"

I wasn't quite sure how to react to that, so I shrugged.

"I think it's very important to know peoples' zodiacal signs. That way, you know what motivates them."

Personally, I think that's a very shallow view, but I was paid to be a dancer and not a James Randi impersonator, so I kept my trap shut.

The hostess then gave me a nicely-wrapped gift. "This is for you! I get the feeling that you, of all people, will really like it!"

I thanked her for the surprise, and opened it up. It was a copy of Clarissa Pinkola's Women Who Run With the Wolves. "Thank you!" I said.

"Have you read it before?"

"Yes, when it was first published." I remember thinking it was a mediocre book, with some interesting tidbits, but overall, rather disappointing. "It was where I first learned about Baubo--my favourite goddess. I'll have to read that section again! And it really does have an excellent title, doesn't it?"

When the guests had all arrived, it was time for me to dance. I danced to "Warda" by Asena, and a drum solo by Mokhtar al Said. Then I gave a quick lesson on some basic moves. The women were all up and shimmying about in no time, and they danced until they all glistened with perspiration. It was hot in there! Then, they asked me to dance again, and I improvised to "Chicky" by Oojami, throwing in a lot of abdominal work and floor moves.

I was really exhausted, at this point, but did a good job in hiding it. What a long day I'd had! And they got me to dance again and again with them as a group. Finally, I sat down with a glass of delicious sangria and said, "Who here does Highland dance?" A couple of them jumped up with pretty legwork, and I tossed on a copy of "Azwaw" by Cheb Mami and Idir, a song that starts out Algerian enough, but ends with some crazy Celtic bagpipes. That song pooped them out, and after they'd danced to "Shik Shak Shok" and a few more drum solos, the party was oozing to a halt. I made my goodbyes, got a ride home with one of the guests, and collapsed into my bed, too tired to wash my makeup off.

Alas, Poor Tubby

I just picked up Princess Tubby a few minutes ago and noticed she's very bony. f00 gave her a nacho, and she is eating it, but very slowly and painstakingly. And she keeps wiping at her face.

I know what this means. She's inherited the bad jaw gene from her Mom. I will have to get her put down. Poor Tubby! She's such a good little willa!