Alo.
Salut.
Darn you, Numa Numa dance guy and your stupid Eurovision song. It is in my head all the time. I am under the impression that I'm beginning to speak Romanian, all because I can say "sunt voinic," which sounds like "sun voyneek" and means "I am brave," and is, since this a Romantic language, probably in the masculine case.
I'm giving myself intravenous James Brown to compensate for the overbearing honkitude of "Dragostea Din Tei." Get on up! Sss funky! Stay on the scene! Like a lovin' machine! Shake your money maker! Can we hit it and quit it?! Hit it!
Got back from Tuff E Nuff, which was taught solo by the lovely and talented Denise. Mark apparently sneezed and threw his back out. Dude is a health nut; how that happened is beyond me but it gives me a pause for pessimism. People were like, "Oh no! Denise is going to be so hard on us!" which is funny because when it is Mark teaching, people are like, "Oh no! Mark's here! He's going to work us to death!" I just figure showing up at the class I will be a pile of quivering aches by the end of the hour.
Also, I have a groupie. His name is Shawn and he was telling other people in the class about my karaoke performance. He even was reenacting it a little. Well, if my craft has touched one other person, it is well worth the lack of shame it took to perform in front of a pack of just-out-of-college aged drunk white cappers.
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