Thursday, August 22, 2013

Why yes, I would care to dance.

A few posts back I wrote about how I have an all encompassing taste in books and thus my opinion on fine literature is rendered useless. This trait extends to other areas of my life - in this case music. However, what I lack in discretion I make up for in gusto. Sometimes this blind passion oozes out of me in the form of dance... and by sometimes I mean there are very few scenarios in life that aren't made better by dance.*

*five second dance parties are my favorite.

You might be thinking to yourself, oh, she's a dancer - that's loverly and sophisticated.

You'd be incorrect. My dancing involves flailing arms, whiplash inducing head bopping, and for some reason duck lips. It's extraordinarily unattractive. And wild good fun.

Tuesday I was in fine form because I had just finished a REALLY hard semester of graduate school (huzzah!) and a particular jazzy tune came on the radio while I was driving home.

What can I say, the music moved me. It started with a jaunty head bop, with obligatory duck lips. Then came the lifting of the hands, which evolved rapidly into waving them frantically while hopping in my seat. Amidst the grooving I happened to notice a stunned old lady watching me from her car.*

*Don't worry, it didn't phase me. I have that affect on people on a pretty regular basis so it rarely slows me down.

But then something new happened - the old woman started dancing too! I was suddenly having an inter lane dance party with an itty bitty gray haired lady. And I have to say, few people can match my dance abilities when measured on an enthusiasm scale but she gave my Kermit moves a run for their money.

I like to think of it as the universe celebrating with me, like how the weather matches Peter Pan's mood, but I think it was probably just an old woman with a bee in her car.

NONE THE LESS, it was one of the highlights of my summer.*

*True story, the song was playing in a commercial while I was writing this post. Double points.  

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

YOU GET A SINKHOLE! YOU GET A SINKHOLE! EVERYBODY GETS A SINKHOLE!



IMPORTANT INTRODUCTION INFORMATION:
  1.  My parents have a timeshare in Orlando that we’ve been going to for the last ten years. 
  2.  I really, REALLY love that place (Orlando and the condo). Really.
So, with that in mind, let’s commence this post.
I got home from school last night around ten o’clock and dragged my weary self into bed (I’m running on fumes these days). As I was slowly going comatose John started a conversation:
“Hey, what’s the name of the resort where your parents’ condo is?”
“Harumph. Erm, gurgle.” Sigh. “Uh… I don’t know.”  
“Is it Summer Bay?”
“Mmhmm. Yeah. That’s it.”
“Well. I have something to tell you. It’s been sucked into a sinkhole.”
::PAUSE::
Yes. Yes. You read that right. A sinkhole. Our condo was sucked into a sinkhole.  
 
A SINKHOLE.
 
I immediately went into what I call "Anna Insta Freak Out Mood." I'm slightly embarrassed by how often this term can be applied.
 
 
Let's look at the stages of AIFOM.
 
::PLAY::
 
STAGE 1: SHRILL SHRIEKING
 
"What? WHAT? WHAT?!?! THAT'S THE CONDO! THAT'S OUR CONDO! IT'S IN A SINKHOLE! OUR CONDO IS IN A SINKHOLE! WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING, JOHN?? OUR CONDO!!!!!!!!!! WHY?!?!?!? I DON'T UNDERSTAND!!!!!!!!!! IT'S NOT FUNNY! COOOONNNNDDDOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!" All of this said at a very high octave. 
 
STAGE 2: GENERAL FLAILING
 
More of the shrieking from above but with wild turning, covering and uncovering myself with the blanket, sitting up, laying back down, getting out of bed, turning around, sitting back down on the bed, smacking John on the arm, shaking Razzie (our pupper-noodle), throwing Snowball (my teddy bear), standing back up, etc.
 
STAGE 3: FRANTIC SHARING OF INFORMATION
 
I texted my mom. Waited two seconds. I texted my dad. Waited 1.5 seconds. I texted my brother. I then called my brother.
 
"Did you see what happened to the condo? IT'S HORRIFYING! THE CONDO! IN A SINKHOLE! YOU ALREADY KNEW?? WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING, TOO? YOU PEOPLE!"
 
STAGE 4: INCOMPLETE SENTENCES
 
Post phone call.
 
"Well... I just... I can't... sinkhole... The condo... I can't... I don't... sinkhole..."
 
STAGE 5: DECOMPRESSING
 
John's final comment: "Yup. Yeah. Should have told you in the morning."
 
I think I finally fell asleep around two. It's really difficult spontaneously combusting and it has a long recovery time.