Heh. The woman's complaining about Janet's boobies and she lives in a place called Knoxville? That, my friends, is too sweet by far.
I am insomniac. [That word always reminds me of BNW's "soma" (and also of the Pumpkins song of the same name), which always conjures up a nice, dreamy, relaxing image - "all the benefits of alcohol and Christianity, and none of the defects." Basically, pot then, right? Sort of.]
On Mix99.9 (which is my alternative to 102.1, when I'm in a more mellow mood), they've been playing a lot more 90s stuff lately. A few times, Bon Jovi's "Always" has come on [there are times when I'm sad I never really got into Bon Jovi, as well as Aerosmith, GnR, and Matchbox 20. I could really have enjoyed them all.] "Always" brings to mind a perfectly formed picture - level 2, sitting on the floor at the edge of the MPR during a dance (where all the non-couples shuffled off in shame to wait out the slow songs.) I had more or less given up on being asked to dance, when I saw Colin Yao walking purposefully towards me. True to type, I tried not to let myself get excited, while images of being swept off my feet whirled through my mind. (I'd known Colin since grade 1, unfortunately my vast history and wealth of experience of TFS people brings to mind the fact that once, during a skating outing, he fell on his skate blade and damaged himself is the voolnerables, or at least that's what I remember, my mom was charperoning at the time.) I tried to look away nonchalantly, while my heart sang and my brain threw up thoughts like "Colin isn't bad! We could live with Colin!" (Last I remember of him, grade 11, he was sort of gangsta.) The big moment approached with his footfalls.
He tripped and landed on me.
He was drunk.
And trying to get to the water-fountain next to me.
And suddenly I was very squashed indeed.
[Come to think of it, I usually feel like Michael Bolton in "Office Space", singing "Man It's Good To Be A Gangsta" in his car. Yeah. That's how Dempsters I am.)
So in one fell swoop, Colin totally crushed my dreams of my first guy-girl dance, as well as my ankle and my shoulder-blade. But still... when I hear "Always", I always think of that first rush of excitement.
My first dance happened later that year. I'm pretty sure it was that year, anyway, cuz it was at Classics' Conference. I was (yet again; I was shy in level 2, believe it or not) sitting at the edge of the darkened Queens gym, sitting out a couple of songs I didn't like, when a stranger came striding up. He was slim, taller than me by about half a foot, with dark, close-cropped hair. I smiled at him, and he smiled at me.
And he said "Hey... would you mind watching my coat?"
And from that moment on, I knew I was the biggest suck in the world amd also a total doormat for being dull enough to hold strangers' coats while they went off and danced.
After 10 restless minutes (the dumb songs were over, I wanted to dance again), I had decided just to leave the stupid coat there, tall dark strangers be damned, when he appeared out of the crowd again. I proffered the leather jacket, grateful that my involuntary servitude was over and I could get back to shakin' mah groove thang, when he dumped the jacket on the bench, grabbed my wrist tightly, and dragged me off into the crowd. My first thought was "But... your jacket..." and my second thought was "Shut the hell up, Kerry." He dragged me over, and we danced slowly to Oasis (Wonderwall) and I think a Lisa Loeb song (You Say.) We small-talked, in the way C and I do, for fun, when we're out dancing- "Hi... what's your name?" "Oh... um.... Kerry..." It was dark and thrilling and romantic to my 14 y/o soul. And then he looked up and said he had to run off because some of his friends were in trouble. I figured it was probably a gf or something. But still- it was dark and mysterious and pretty cool for the type of person I was then.
Truth me told, I haven't danced with that many guys since. In fact, I could count the times - Laurent in level 4, Erik at the first dance in level 6 (by the second dance, we'd broken up again), Michi and Alan once each, the last TFS dance we ended up having, which was our semi-formal, Fat-Bastard-John at formal, Mike (only slow-dancing once, the night before he left for Timmins/California, in my room- the playlist ended up creepy, and after the first song I picked ["Unbreak My Heart"], it seemed to go all of its own accord, song after song that applied to us), James lots in that post-Mike, horrible-rebound summer (he may have been a schmoe, but he was a good dancer), some random guys at the Brunny (but not too many) including Mike Manni, Aaron once, at Stein's, and then R. Really, sorta sad when I have a hard time remembering the people I've kissed, but not the people I've danced with.
Oh, and C a gazillion times.
As you can see, I'm still chatty, but wearing down. Still jet-lagged from FullCount. Les is doing admirably, tho. My parents are calling me The Negotiator. Been thinking about that as a possible career track. I think I'd make a good union leader, except then you get into the Mafia and all, don't you?
NOT freakin' getting up tomorrow.
Readin' "Thief of Time"
Listenin' to fridge humming
Thinkin' about bed?
Most recently I was 
