The mixer is a mainstay of most dance studio parties; you start with one partner and then you change a couple times over the course of the song, and it’s a fun icebreaker or end of the night thing that lets you dance with a bunch of different people.
Well, this post is sort of like that, except that instead of different dance partners, you will get different installments of…
…assorted crap that has happened recently!
Our head coach crossed her arms and looked across the room to another of our coaches.
“Well, it’s crap,” she said. “I mean, they are just so new, and they really don’t know anything.”
He nodded at her. She is also his coach. She does not screw around. She is right. Our stuff is crap. Ugh.
We have a competition in about ten days. Awesome.
So have you guys tried spinning? I have not! Until yesterday! And now I love it the most. It’s EXCELLENT. I almost never get to that feeling of, oh Jesus, I have danced four rounds in a row full out and I am going to have to pull one more out of my ass and I can’t MOVE MY LEGS but oh, wait, no, I am doing it, okay, well, keep breathing!
It’s so excellent. And the girl who taught my first class was super nice to me and played some really bad-ass speed metal and I ripped clean through my shoe because like an IDIOT, I wore my dance sneakers. Not recommended, friends! Wear a thicker soled shoe! Made me feel tough and cool, though, and she was impressed which was obviously the most important thing.
And today my ass hurts like nobody’s business. (Not because of the exertion, but because of the goddamn seat.)
I am getting up at 5:30 am to go do this again tomorrow. I went to Payless and bought stupid actual athletic shoes with a thicker sole but I am so totally going to buy those clip-in bicycle shoes if I stick with this for, like, another week. It means I can actually go to REI or something and pretend like I need shit.
Also, if it really is a thing maybe I will actually get on an outside bicycle someday and then I will meet so many more girls! That has always been one of my huge failings in the dating-ladies department; every damn lesbian loves bicycles.
(Side note: I was googling “what kind of shoes should I wear for spinning” and you know how Google auto-completes search requests for you? Well apparently, the question on EVERYONE’S MIND is: “what kind of shoes does a frog wear?” The answer? OPEN TOAD. Yesssssssssss.)
I was trying to explain to a non-ballroom person why it’s so important that I look as perfect as I possibly can for competitions. In future, I will just direct people to this post from Kate at Riot & Frolic, who says (exactly correctly):
Competitive ballroom dancers are impressionists.
That’s why there’s only 3 hair colors on the floor. (Black, red, or blonde.)
That’s why there’s a million rhinestones sparkling under the lights.
That’s why there’s a bottle of spray tan on each person’s skin.
That’s why there’s a can of hairspray keeping each person’s hair in place.
That’s why there’s 12 very fit, posturally-correct people in the final.
We have to make the strongest physical impression we can, in the blink of an eye. We have to look as perfect as we can (hair in place and interesting, fit, pretty/handsome, exotic/beautiful/fierce/sexy/romantic/[insert descriptive term here], confident) because judges start culling the herd before we even walk on the floor.
Then, when we walk on the floor and start dancing, we have to hold on to that great first impression.
Right? I have to look perfect before I even start moving, and then, once I do, I have about seven seconds to be excellent. Because judges are not looking to pat you on the back and say, good job, tiger! They are looking for reasons to write you off and not have to look at you again. Judging is hard, especially when you have a ton of couples on the floor, and the faster you can eliminate someone, the more time you have to really decide whether couple number 287 or couple number 294 should place first in the mambo.
Which is why I am trying, in our ten days, to make the beginning of our cha cha really fucking good. It’s the first thing we put out, and if we put out crap right off the bat, it doesn’t matter how great the bolero is three dances later, we’ve already been written off. (Even though it is right now, see above, crap.)
Here is what I had for breakfast this morning and it is AWESOME, so just try it, okay?
(1) Get a bowl.
(2) Throw in a shit ton of radish and clover sprouts, or any kind of sprouts, whatever, just find some fucking sprouts, okay? Jesus.
(3) Cut up a small Granny Smith apple. Throw that shit in the bowl.
(4) Mix it up (hard, because sprouts resist mixing) and drizzle it all with rice vinegar. I like this shit, from Eden Foods.
(5) Make some goddamn coffee. Why the fuck am I always out of coffee? Maybe because I drink all of it.
(6) Spray some Pam (or whatever, because I only eat hippie bullshit food I have some fucking hempseed or flaxseed or some goddamn seed spray in a can kind of expeller-pressed expensive Pam from Whole Foods, but, basically, Pam) into your non-stick pan and heat it up pretty hot. Crack an egg in there, throw a shit ton of pepper on top, and wait like a couple minutes. If your pan isn’t hot enough, the white part on top will just stay mucus-y and gross. You don’t want that.
(7) Flip your egg upside down on top of your sprouts/apple thing so that ideally, the yolk breaks and gets all weird and freaky with that shit. Jab your fork into it and kind of mash it all around and then eat it fast, before the hot stuff stops being hot and all contrasty with the cold stuff.
(8) You forgot your coffee in the other room! Dumbass.