Tuesday, March 22, 2005

big hairy pile of randomness

simon le bon: the object of my pre-teen swooning.

big ups to gwen stefani for hiring her harajuku girls to dance on stage. i have to say, those little peanuts rock my face off. they are doing way more than many of the dancers out there that just do the stiletto step-touch but are more "commercially appealing" in appearance: taller, curvier, notably either black or white but nothing in between. there isn't that much demand for really good short asian dancers, so these chicks have hit paydirt. they work it.

being prompt is such a gamble. i go to the doctor today, full of anxiety. since traffic is light, i get there 30 minutes before my appointment, so i walk around marshall fields for 15 minutes. i arrive seven minutes early and sit in the empty waiting room for 25 minutes, flipping through something like woman's day, thinking "just kill me already." i finally get my blood pressure taken [it's down, which is nice] and then i get naked to put on a robe that is big enough for two of me. while i swear it sounds like the doctors and nurses are having a cocktail party [laughing, gabbing, clinking pyrex], i am sitting, freezing, nervous for ten more minutes, waiting for my five minute appointment. i hate going to the doctor.

the other day, my sister was eating a steak and for the first time, the smell was really offensive to me. you know what is really weird? the smell of leather now grosses me out. you know what scent i think should be bottled? eau de ikea: particle board and cinnamon rolls. the smell of new housewares is so aromatherapeutic.

just so you know: i do not wish to be kept alive on a feeding tube for years and years if i am in a permanent vegetative state. there. i said it. now, no one has any doubts.

i went to see duran duran this weekend. in my junior high years, i was a full-force durannie. i knew every vital statistic of each member. so unreal to see them all live and think, "wow -- simon was born in 1958 so that makes him... 47! damn!" after drinking a really heinous mix of vodka & crystal light ['you guys are so weird!' - casey], beer and margarita, i made a personal vow to choreograph a routine to a duran duran medley for free. for whom, i have no idea, but i even drunkenly scrawled all the songs in my notebook in a fit of passion.

saw napoleon dynamite. nope -- not that funny. [wincing and ducking]


Jamie said...

Ooh, ooh, I love Duran Duran! You can choreograph the routine for me if you want. Just make sure to incorporate my best technical element - lots of fouettes, of course.

Casey said...

Yea. What Jamie said.

I'm all about the fow-etties. fowl eddies. the fööts. however you say it. I'm big into the ball change these days. though lately it's the coffee grinder that get's me juiced. you know, the piroutte foul-eddies?

I've decided dancers are like skaters. You're all into the tech terms to describe your moves. You need to get creative.

You need to start incorporating skate moves into your routines. Like doing a "bunsen over the junsen", or "ollie to switchfoot nosegrind over the divide." that would be cool!

Jamie said...

Oh, Casey. If only you'd seen my fouettes, back in the day. They weren't pretty then, and they aren't pretty now. Yikes.