Dirty Dancing

Last night a friend dragged me to a dance for old people. The most attractive man there was the DJ, who didn't seem that old. I, of course, approached him and we exchanged a few words. He's not married, so cross your fingers; with my love of music, a DJ and me would be a match made in heaven. One of the few songs I recognized was The Hustle, and not much else. I wonder if Grandma would have enjoyed this dance a lot more than me. Great self-esteem booster, though. I feel soooo young now.

Such an activity could never be boring, even if I wasn't dancing. This people have a strange affinity for extremely large dancing circles (I'm talking about 30 or more people occupying half the dance floor), and watching old men trying to breakdance is priceless. I will go to one of these dances again, oh yeah, and next time I am bringing my video camera.

PS: On some very exciting news, my @ is finally working again! Don't ask me how.

Persistence

About a month ago, I quoted a message in my inbox from this kid who wanted to start a serious relationship. Refresh your mind by reading the said post again. I just got another message from him, in what can only be cited as an extraordinary example of persistence. Good for you, kid! One day you'll find a virtual girlfriend. Please read:

"Don't be shy to let me know if you're interested in exploring possibilities for a r/ship...(excerpt omitted for privacy's sake). If you're interested, (email address, phone number) are my contacts. I will be waiting."

I wonder if a girl has already succumbed to his charm.

Is there such a thing as a professional traveler?

I love to travel. I really do. Every year I go to a new country, except while living in the U.S., since there are many new places to visit here. Among my favorite cities so far are San Francisco, CA; Toronto, ON; San Jose, Costa Rica; and, of course, beautiful Denver! I love airports, and running through them to catch my next plane (the environmentalist within me feels bad I love flying so much, since airplanes leave a huge carbon footprint behind them). And, apparently, I have as much fun packing. I am moving to a new place this week (YAYYYY!!!), and I'm having the time of my life, packing my meager belongings. So much fun, I won't write any more, so I can get back to it.

The curse of the white Impala

I think Whitey hates me. He's (the darn car deserves to be called a "he") been making weird noises whenever I drive to one of my favorite friends' house, but I disregarded that. Yesterday morning, as I was running late to an appointment, all I heard was a click every time I turned the ignition key. Fighting the temptation to curse all vehicles, I went back inside my house and prayed for the darn thing to work. And voila! 15 minutes later, he finally and graciously let me drive him. When I had another friend look at him, there was nothing wrong. Later in the afternoon, several warning lights were flashing simultaneously on the dashboard, but I ignored them. No way that devilish car was going to keep me from my errands. So I decided to drive him to Church today. As I grabbed all my stuff, and headed for the door, I couldn't find the car key. I'm a very, very, very organized person, and I don't generally lose things, and never something as important as a car key. I looked for it for over 30 minutes, in the most unimaginable places. I still cannot find it. My car is possessed.