10.01.2004 - 1:30 p.m.
Friday
When I was leaving the house yesterday morning, a FedEx truck pulled in our driveway. "You Sundry?" asked the driver. "Got a G5 for you."
Oh yeah. My new iMac, 25.2 pounds of red hot computing action, arriving right on schedule. JB and I got it up and running last night, and it is a thing of beauty. In the face of our sexy Apple hardware, my crusty old PC huddled on the corner of the desk and tried to convince me it was still useful.
PC: "How could you get rid of me, when I have faithfully served you for years?"
Me: "You crash all the time, you have seizures when I run iTunes, and you sound like you're powered by a geriatric hamster. You're officially a piece of shit."
Mac: "Face it, baby, you're yesterday's news. I mean, what IS that giant box you've got?"
PC: (sniveling) "That's....that's my hard drive."
Mac: "HA!"
Now I've got the horsepower to fuck around with video editing, which I'm kind of excited about. I plan to produce many incredibly stupid short films starring Dog.
FADE IN on kitchen. The CAMERA zooms in on the wet, trembling SNOUT of a yellow LAB.
VOICE
"Do you want a biscuit? Do you?"
We PULL AWAY to see DOG going completely BESERK.
CUT TO biscuit flying slowly through air, landing in DOG'S MOUTH.
Fin!
:::
So I've signed up for a bellydancing class, how crazy is that? My friends Amy and Peachy are taking it with me, because we want to be cool like Chiara, bellydancer extraordinaire. Only, it turns out you definitely do NOT look cool during your first bellydance class, or perhaps even your first seventy-five bellydancing classes. No, not cool at all. Because bellydancing? Is hard.
Here, I'll teach you one of the basic moves we learned last Monday. Stand upright, with your knees slightly bent. Now, without moving your feet, sling your hip to the left like you're whamming a car door shut. Now to the right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Now cruise around the room like that, and check yourself out in a mirror. Congratulations! You look like a complete retard!
For SOME reason, the seasoned bellydancers can make that hip thing look totally fluid and sexy and exotic. I won't even try and describe Snake Arms, which also looks great when done by a professional, not so much when performed by, for instance, me.
Towards the end of the class I sort of thought I might be getting the hang of the hip shimmy, and when I got home I demonstrated it in our living room for JB. He furrowed his brow. "What's that crunching sound?" he asked. "Is that your hips?" "No," I said huffily, "those are my KNEES."
I guess it's hard to be sexy and exotic when your cartilage drowns out the tribal music.
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