Dancing (not with the stars, but that's ok)

I'm taking a social dance class this semester. It's tons of fun. Tonight I got to go take the Medals Exam for the Foxtrot and Cha-cha, and I got this nifty little pin and a neat certificate.


The Medals Exam is basically you go, you dance, and these judges give you a score on a national level. It's pretty cool. You dance with the instructor of your dance class (or the TA, however that works out), and you hope that you can remember the Foxtrot steps because you learned them all so long ago. And you hope that your instructor (or TA) actually knows what they are doing because otherwise you are pretty much screwed. I didn't have to worry about this. My instructor is a pretty awesome guy, and he can dance (you gotta hope right? He IS teaching the class!)

So I medaled on the bronze level (for Dance 180) in the Foxtrot and the Cha-cha. And I can skip out on the Swing final. Yeah, I don't know how it works out that if you do well on those two dances you can skip out on the Swing. So now all that's keeping me from knowing I have an excellent grade in that class is the Waltz test which takes place on Monday.

Oh yeah, and just because I was already nervous about my test, I got this crazy little twitch in my eye. Because that just helps everything so much, you know? It went away as soon as I got my score. *mutters* stupid nerves . . .

Dancing makes guys hotter. Just as a note.

Mail Order

Ok, so I spent Thanksgiving at a friend's house. Mauri is going to Scotland next summer. Actually she is going to Ireland, England, Wales, and France, and will be spending a day in Edinburgh, Scotland. Can I just say that I am more jealous over that one day than I am over everything else? I mean, what is even in Scotland? Why do I have this insane obsession with Scotland? The world may never know. Let's just go with it.

So because we are crazy and weird, Mauri and I decided to see if you can get a mail order husband. Preferably from Scotland. Alas! 'Tis not possible. At least not as far as we could tell. No mail order grooms to be found, let alone Scottish ones. Sad day.

I was talking about this with Seth and Charlotte, and we pointed out that there are some definite drawbacks to buying a guy. So we decided that instead I can buy an army of mail order brides and they can be my slaves and make knock off Nikes. I don't know how we reached this decision. It was odd. Seth said I would be the Goddess of Discord and Lord of the Cobblers.

This is all very random. I told Mauri to bring me back a Scottish guy. Too bad she only has one day to find him.