During last night's salsa lesson, the smile that was continuously on my face was masking the following thoughts (proof that the salsa classmates you usually adore, are not as loveable the week before your period. Man, girls are bitches. Consider yourself warned.):
* Dear Girl-Who-Wears-the-80's-Dancer-Gear: this is not Flashdance and you are not impressing anyone with your backless leotard and cutesy skirt. And careful, if you move your hips out to the side any further, you're going to start knocking people out left and right. I'll make sure to avoid you. That, and your boyfriend creeps me out. Will you tell him to stop staring at me with that goofy grin on his face? And last night, we apparently had a moment that I was not aware of sharing, because he looked at me then laughed like something just happened between us, but I missed it. I mean, how did you guys get permission from your parents to stay out so late, anyway? Isn't 8 past your bedtime?
* Ok, perfect girl with the perfect looking boyfriend: you are obviously a dancer, because you move like a dancer - but being a dancer already does not a good salsa dancer make. Although, you sure do think you're great at it with your perfectly level head and and your perfectly swaying hips, but you are not perfect; in fact, you kind of look like you're doing a toned-down version of Riverdance. And besides, your boyfriend seems like he's one of those guys who probably only dates girls as perfect looking as you. And that irritates me. Not because I'm envious, but because I've dated one of these guys (not because I was perfect, but because I'm good at making people think I am. HA! Had you fooled until now, didn't I?); and let me tell you, he actually admitted to me that he would have broken up with me if I had gotten fat. And because he also knew how to cry and how to threaten suicide, I still stayed with him 7 months too long. (When now I'm realizing all I had to do was get fat.) But that just pisses me off that people like that even exist and people like me fall for it because we're too nice to dump someone we don't really like and because we're too lonely to want to be alone, even though they're boring as hell.
Ok, sorry, where was ? Oh right...back to salsa.
* Someone in my class looks like the Ghost. I'm scared to dance with him. I don't want him and his black-rimmed-glasses near me, I might knee him for making me miserable all those months (years), and well, he doesn't deserve it because he's not him, and that would just be plain mean. Besides, I really like his girlfriend, she's hilarious and fun and dresses nicely, unlike Flashdance girl who I want to accidentally trip.
* Guy with the accent, you wear WAY too much cologne. Really, you don't have to roll around in it, didn't anyone teach you the-spray-in-the-air-then-walk-through-it trick? And, although this is your second time around taking the class, don't act like you know more than me, I may be clouded and confused temperarily by the burning sensation in my eyes from the pungent skunk-drowned-in-perfume scent that's surrounding us, but I'm pretty sure you are not the salsa-god, and I am not Penelope Le Peu, so give it a rest already.
* Hey girl-that-looks-like-she's-in-her-own-world, obviously imagining herself whipping it up on the dance floors at the Latin clubs...although you might seem like a badass white girl salsa dancer, you are not even close! I saw you last night trip on your own feet, and then when we went right, you went left. You may want to give it a rest, you are not as smooth as you think you are, stop blaming it on the guy when it's obviously you trying to take control...wait a minute...this is me. Ok, ok, you do have smashing hip movements. So what if you trip on your shoes? You pull it off with such grace, you hot-stuff, you. Keep it up, badass.
Ok. I'm begining to think Blogger should have a PMS-filter. Just a thought.