Last time on... Social Dance: Horror Stories from the East Ballroom, I said that all the girls in the class had sweet spirits. WELLLLLLLLLLll.... they still do. But one of them is hard to see.
She has short legs and short hair, short arms, short body in general, and a real short temper.
The whole time she glares at you with her little beady eyes, mascara dripping from the heat of her laser vision. She hates me with an intense burning fiery passion. Each step we take I can feel my cells mutating from the radiation of hate emanating from her. Unmitigated dislike seeps onto the floor and leaves a slimy trail behind for the next couple to slip on.
I dread dancing with her. Maybe that's bad, but I just am not excited to place my hand upon her shoulderblade (approximately 2 feet off the floor). She tries to lead the whole time even though she can't see behind her, then when I give up and let her lead she runs into someone and almost makes them fall over.
I'm not sure if she was glaring at me for laughing/snorting or if she was mad that I let her hit them. (What was I supposed to do? You were cruising along like a train honey! I ain't spider man, I can't shoot out my webs and make the train stop.) Anyway so today I happened to get around to Belinda right at free dance time. Which means we dance with them for about 4 minutes throughout a whole song. Since we're doing foxtrot, it's usually Frank Sinatra or something similar.
I have never in my whole life wanted Frank to shut up more than I did for those four excrutiating minutes.
Belinda, I don't know why you hate me. It's probably my rugged good looks or something, perhaps my chickmagnetness bugs you. Perhaps it's my alluring muscles.
Wouldn't be the first time.