Dance! Dance, my puppet!

As of tomorrow, I’ll be covered by my own car insurance policy. I guess that’s a good thing, even if it took all morning to figure out (most of it was me poking around the internet for information; actually getting the insurance was darn quick).

Then, this evening, I (for once) faced down my irrational fear of dance sessions, and made it to the Wednesday night ballroom dance practice. I love dancing, even if I’m not terribly good at it, but I always want to skip out on dances (or dance practices) until I actually get to them. I’m weird that way… it must be my antisocial side showing.

Anyway, I saw a few old friends there, and actually had a really pleasant time. I unwittingly found out that Mandy no longer has a boyfriend by making reference to him (you see, her boyfriend never went dancing with her… so I was trying to play off that), and learned that Erin is studying The Artists. I laughed heartily when I saw the only note she had scribbled down on one page of her assigned reading: WHAT?! Yes, that’s right: Erin was trying to do homework while at a ballroom dance practice. Robin tried to get me to salsa properly, and somewhat succeeded (I lose my l33t skillz so quickly!), and Marco was—as usual—simultaneously amazing and hilarious to watch dance. You can tell when people are really having fun.

Hrm; I’ve blathered on enough for now, I see. This entry is courtesy of a phone call I’ve been trying to make, but have been repeatedly stymied by a busy signal. (No, I’m not trying to call a female.) Time to try again.


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