Tag Archives: dance

My hair will smell of weed, sweat & beer for the next week.

That’s just what rap concerts do to you. In a roundabout random turn of events, I (the most unlikely suspect) ended up at a rap concert tonight. Somehow, an old college buddy of mine had gotten free tickets from work & invited me to tag along.

I prepared myself after work this afternoon by trying to make myself look cool. You know? I figured that’s what I should do for a rap concert. Leggings, a tunic & a belt. Gladiator sandals. Purple glitter nail polish. Big purple earrings. From that description, you’d think I was going to an 80’s party, but I swear, I looked mildly alright.

Admittedly, I was a little afraid I’d be the only white person there. Not that I have a problem with that, but it may have been a little awkward. I wasn’t, but I was the only white person in our little group that went together. I’m happy to report we joked around about it & I made a few new friends tonight, which is always terrific!

I also have to admit that I didn’t really know any of the rappers performing. They were: 2 Chains, J. Cole & Drake. Now, I’ve heard of Drake (who hasn’t?), but I still didn’t really know any of his songs, but I still danced like I did & had a really good time. Surprisingly, I think J. Cole was my favorite of the three.

Bottom line? I had a blast dancing the night away & I would definitely do it again.


Prom & the fruity boy.

‘Tis the season for prom over at the dress shop I work at. Technically speaking, prom season started a couple months back, but of course, every little high school girl in this area has waited until the last-minute. Poor kids. All the good dresses are already picked over at this point, so I guess they’re gonna end up in either that lilac princess cut or the neon one with most of the midsection cut out, but I digress.

I remember my Junior prom all too well. Unfortunately. My best friend at the time, Kathleen, was in a mildly serious relationship with this boy so I knew they were going to prom together. That meant I was expected to get a date so we could double date for prom. Thing is, the only guy that asked me I didn’t want to go with. His name was Fred Berry, he had bright red hair & he may or may not have been missing a few teeth. I turned him down. Six times.

I went ahead & purchased a sassy prom dress with the intentions of finding a date. My dress was a spaghetti strap, mermaid cut, lime green number with a mesh cut out at the midriff. Whatever. I weighed 40 pounds less then. It was hot.

Months went by. I asked guy friends of mine. They already had dates. Kathleen attempted to set me up. Nothing worked. One week before prom I still didn’t have a date. I didn’t want to be the third wheel. Looks like I was going to have to do the unthinkable: ask Fred to prom.

He was pumped, of course. He took me to a crappy restaurant & I paid for my own meal. He insisted we get to prom an hour early to take pictures that I later found out he expected me to pay for. He wanted me to dance with him on every single song. He topped the charts as one of my worst dates ever.

I ended up leaving early with Kathleen & her boy toy to go bowling. We had a blast. Perhaps three isn’t a crowd.


I’m oatmeal, not black velvet, apparently.

My mom showed up for a surprise visit around 12:30 yesterday afternoon. After showing her around my house (she’s never been here, never seen it), we headed over to Rite Aid to get my crazy meds filled (fine, my migraine meds).

Mom wanted to head to Applebee’s for lunch, so we headed over there to get some omnoms. Mom proceeded to dance in her seat to every song that came on & to flirt with our waiter…typical. Good thing the restaurant was mostly empty by that time of the day because while she’s a bit of a public dancer…I’m a singer. Yep. Terrible at it, but I’ll do it. Loud & proud & not just in the car.

We went to Target because Mom insisted I help her pick out a new pair of shoes. We have quite different fashion tastes though. While she was over on the tennis shoe aisle, I yelled from the next aisle over, How do you feel about coral colored sandals? They’re only $14.99! Ohhhhhh!!! These flats sparkle & so will you!  Upon meeting in the middle, I told her not to pick anything that was going to make her look 50 or older, so we settled on a simple pair of white flats that we figured would go with anything. She was so excited she made me rip the tags off as we were walking back out to the car so she could put them on before we got to JCPenney.

Last stop. JCPenney. This is when I realized I didn’t own any normal colored panty hose. I own 2 black pair, a grey pair, a pink pair, & a purple pair. I don’t think I’ve ever even bought a skin colored pair, so I was sort of lost. Mom, what do these colors mean? The names don’t make sense. Am I black velvet or smokey? The sizes are even confusing. Am I short or queen? My mom gives me that look. The look only a mother can give. Well, you’re not black, so let’s not buy you black velvet anything. I’d say you’re oatmeal or bone. I’d also pick up the package to look at the size chart, but queen sounds like a nice way of saying huge. I picked up the oatmeal & the bone package. The bone looked vampire white, so I went with the oatmeal. I am oatmeal colored. Good to know. I also fall into neither short or queen size, but average. What?! How boring is that? Average oatmeal?

After feeling boring, I bought a bright orange pencil skirt to liven my life.

Live bright, not average.


Today is 3/03…which IS special, trust me.

In honor of today being March 3rd, I’m doing a post about one of my all time favorite bands, 3OH!3. See? Makes sense now, doesn’t it?

I got hooked on 3OH!3 a few years ago by my younger brother & there’s been no turning back since. I love their music (it kind of just makes you want to dance all the time), the lyrics & about a year and a half ago I actually got the pleasure of meeting the 2 guys that make up the band. Both Nat & Sean were super friendly, taking pics with out group & signing autographs for us (even taking the time to talk to us for a few minutes!).

Based out of Boulder, CO (actually how they got their name, 303 is the area code), they mix quirky rap-like lyrics with electronica music for blast-worth music. Don’t belive me? Check out their website here. Or download they’re latest CD, Streets of Gold on ITunes.

And now, my favsies music video: Double Vision.

Happy 3OH!3 day!


My Mom was a Dance Mom before it was cool.

In light of yesterday’s post & last night being the season premire of Dance Mom season 2, I decided to do a throwback post…from my childhood…from the 90’s.

So, yes I took ballet & tap. I did the whole sequined, frilly outfits with too much make-up & big hair thing. My mom did the crazy dance mom, yelling & screaming thing. She even got my pictures taken in full costume before every recital. There were, of course, a few problems with all of this: I had the memory span of a goldfish (thus I never knew the routine), I was painfully shy, & I would have rather been playing in mud-puddles.

I would get up on stage & attempt to do the things that the other girls did…failing miserably. I just went along with it. I never really complained because I was a pretty chill kid. I also had an older cousin (that I aspired to be like) that had taken the same classes & went on to be in beauty pageants. I just thought that was where I was supposed to go. Who I was supposed to be.

Then came the day of the hula outfit. I was wearing only the bikini top & bottom with the little grass skirt & a flower in my hair. I was 4 years old. My tummy? Freezing. My hair? Big. In the way. I was pissed. I walk out on stage, can’t remember the routine, am humiliated, so I stand there crying my eyes out smearing my make-up everywhere while all the other little girls dance. WORST 4 MINUTES EVER.

The turning point of this story? Right as I walk off stage, I tell my mom that I don’t want to dance anymore. And that was that. I never attended another dance class in my life.

So, the question is, where do we draw the line? What is good parental encouragement verses borderline abuse? Does our society know the difference?

Happy debating!