Sunday, April 13

day 11451: beauty ballet school drop-out

A couple of months ago, in a vow to shake things up a bit and step outside of our all-consuming self-confining boxes, TAB (former QWW) and I signed up for seven weeks of ballet classes. We were going to be the epitomes of Audrey Hepburn-esque grace, elegance and beauty. While she is addicted to Dancing With the Stars, this was going to be MY life changing experience...

Except that I forgot to consider my elephant-stomping gait, my extreme tendency to be a klutz and the fact that the classes are on Friday nights, and I've got better things to do on a Friday night then hang around in a class full of girls. (I'm kidding... kind of...)

Six classes later, three of which I've missed, I've been forced to come to terms with the fact that no one will ever use the words "grace", "elegance" or "beauty" when referring to me, and that I will indeed flunk out of Ballet for the Uncordinated and will not be graduating to Ballet 101 with the rest of the co-ordinated class.

I will admit, however, that I stubbornly clung to the my self-aggrandizing illusion that I was an undiscovered dance prodigy - that is, of course, until the second time I hit the floor mid-pirouette.

Friday, April 11

day 11449: bored

bored. bored. bore.d bored. bored. bored. bored. bored. bored. bored. bore.d bore.d bored. bored. bored. bored. bored. bored. bored. bored. bored. bored. bpored. bored. bored. bored. bored bore. borel.d bptre. bored. bored. bored. bored. bored. bored. bore.d bored. bored. bored. bore.d bored. bored. bored. bored. bored.