  Comedy
This week: Edited by: Beyond the Cloud9  
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Comedy a.k.a. funny stuff.
Whatever your writing style or reading preference, comedy finds its way into everyone’s life in some form. Take time to look around and see the humor in life. Learn to love and laugh at yourself, and laugh with others.
This newsletter is designed to give you tips and entertainment, but mostly to put a smile on your face!
Your editor this week is Beyond the Cloud9 |
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I've embarked on a new hobby. I can see the eye rolling now, because I usually start off gung ho about a hobby, dive neck deep into it, and then suddenly lose interest. But this time I'm sticking with my new hobby, which happens to be Salsa dancing.  Ironically, I'm skipping class tonight to write this newsletter. Does that make me a bad person?
I had my first lesson last week. I suffered through rush hour traffic, went the right ways down the one way streets (except for one or two), found the building, circled it twice looking for a parking place afraid to park in the "reserved" spots. I opted to park across the street, unclear if I was supposed to pay for it.
While inside I neatly printed my paperwork while the nice lady at the counter informed me that the reserved spaces were for students, which would be me. I scampered back to my car and snatched the last available space.
The instructor was late, so the girl behind the counter started teaching us. She graciously let us know that she was also an instructor, so we weren't just being taught by anyone off the street. I could tell by the deep sighs and expressions that this really eased everyone's mind.
None of the steps made sense. It seemed like forever before I got to stepping with the correct foot - back and forward, in a half walking way. Then she threw us for a curve by adding a side step. Then she told us not to hold our arms to our sides (which I was doing) and demonstrated the correct way to hold your hands, as if you were holding a grapefruit between your thumb and middle finger. I tried this, but then my feet would not work. Seems my feet only work if my arms are straight down. Too bad I quit that Irish dance class.
The real instructor arrived and took over, but had lost most of his voice, forcing me to learn the steps by sight and mimicking. He introduced a step called the Suzie Q, which was an easy name for me to remember.  Unfortunately, I now can't remember the step to save my life. 
Another pattern we learned was called the Tight Rope. This move is made by placing your left foot in front of and across your right foot, crossing your legs, and then spinning inward on the ball of your left foot. You then swing your right leg around and step in front and across your left foot, again turning to the inside on the ball of your foot. This repeats four more times very quickly, resutling in a tanlged mass of legs and feet. I do not recommend the move if you are wearing sneakers on the dance floor, as you cannot spin your foot in sneakers!
Right about the time it was all clear as mud, we had to partner up. There were more women in the class than men, so we had to rotate. The first man had come in very late to the class, was decked out in western wear, and he seemed as starchy as his shirt. He had a carboard smile and boy was I uncomfortable.
The next guy was flamboyantly gay, which put me at ease a little knowing he wasn't viewing me as a t-bone steak. But he swiveled his hips so much, I couldn't follow his moves. But he had a very nice swivel!
The next was the instructor. I don't have to tell you how nervous I was with him. This guy has won competitions and stuff! I don't even think I looked him in the eye I was feeling so inferior.
The fourth partner was a married man in his 40's or 50's who had come there with his wife. He was relaxed, friendly, and for the first time, I didn't feel completley uncomfortable. Of course, it didn't help my dancing any, because I rushed my steps, got off on my timing, and generally embarrissed myself as all beginners do.
The final partner was a good looking guy my age. I thought, "hey, now here's potential!" Wrong. This guy not once looked at me. I thought I must have had spinach in my teeth. I'm not sure I'm cut out for dancing with a partner. Do I really have to have a partner for Salsa??
I'm just proud I made it through the first class without tripping, falling, farting, or doing anything else too embarrissing. I think I might have potential! Just call me Twinkle Toes!
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  Questions & Comments
Holland Kat  Writes:
Hello, Sherri
Thanks for choosing my serenade to Satan in your newletter!
Billy{c}
You are welcome. Thanks for writing it. 
shaara Writes:
I loved your tale about "keeping abreast." Oh, so often do such things come out. It's good when folks can laugh about them. Thanks for the giggle.
Smiles,
Shaara
Mariposa writes:
Well, my six year old was reading a story to me the other day about a little girl, Betsy, who picks some pansies to take to an elderly woman in reparation for having tresspassed to pick her violets the day before. Here's what she read to me:
Betsy handed the panties to the old woman. The woman smelled the panties and said, "I like panties better than violets."
Our entire household was in stitches!
And now I am too! 
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Comedy: April 12, 2006 Issue [#980]
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