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...and that was the only thing wrong with the bellydance performance I attended last night. Amy has been bellydancing for over a year now and last night her class gave its first recital. I've got to say, if you've never seen it bellydance is an AMAZINGLY beautiful art form. It's not just a bunch of hot babes shaking their moneymakers, (although that does help,) it is an astounding display of what, with just a little training, the human body is capable of expressing. As I intimate in this entry's title, there were a couple of over-40's in the performance who looked like they'd experienced difficult childbirths at some point, but even they became amazingly beautiful once they showed what they had learned. Amy did a sword-dance as a solo piece, (that's where you balance a scimitar across your head - and KEEP IT THERE!) and it was absolutely breathtaking. The entire audience was literally getting up and shifting to either side of the packed little room to get a better view of what she was doing.
The evening was pleasant for me in another way: I got to spend time with Meghan. Over the past few months I've only ever seen her briefly in social situations at A&A's and always in the presence of her boyfriend. This time, she was alone and we wound up sitting together. It was as if no time had passed since the whole incident. We were joking and having a swell, comfortable time just like we always used to. Afterward Adam intimated to me that Meghan has been making remarks to the effect over the past few months that she misses me and wishes I was around more. That made me feel good and very surprised. It's nice to know that she at least cares about me as a person. I honestly had no idea she did.
SCARY PART OF THE EVENING: The scary hairdos of many of the men in attendance. Sometimes it's easy to forget that the city I live in is surrounded by both Kansas and Missouri; two places where the mullet is king. I would've killed to have a digital camera last night. Sightings worth documenting included:
-Burly man of at least 280 pounds with slicked-back hair, black t-shirt, and twelve-inch long Amish-looking goatee. I can only assume his Amish horse buggy is covered in chrome and leather and that he proudly drives it up to Sturgis, South Dakota every year.
-Man in black t-shirt with flaking Nascar image with hideously long rat-tail mullet. This rat-tail was so thick I think it had gone right into a possum-tail. You could tell this guy still dances to "Achy Breaky Heart" and probably thinks Toby Keith is "too liberal."
-Strangest man of the night: Man with slicked-back 50's style pompadour hairdo complete with sideburns, Buddy Holly glasses, 1-size-too-small white button-up shirt, brown slacks, and polished black shoes with white socks. Meghan and I were speculating that it was a good thing the performance was ending at eight o'clock, since he was probably supposed to take Peggy Sue to the malt shop at eight-thirty. I wonder if he took her to Lover's Lane afterwards. OHMYGOSH! Do you think they held hands!? OOOH! Do you think he asked her to go steady? *giggle!*
-Imagine Jerry Seinfeld with gravity-defying grease-stiffened hair, a slack-jawed redneck expression (complete with mishapen giant buck teeth,) and a too-small teal green button-up shirt. I swear, this guy looked exactly like a backwoods yokel from a horror movie! And not one of those nifty cannibalistic ones, either. No, he looked like the one who is last seen slowly walking into a darkened chamber saying "Cledus? That yew, Cledus? Cledus?" right before emitting a blood-curdling shriek followed by a wet thumping noise, and a thick spray of blood across the wall.
So there you have it: an evening filled with lithe celebrations of the female form, unintentional celebrations of hillbilly hair, and unexpected celebrations of old friendships. I hope Amy's class puts on their next performance soon because I definately need to do this more often.
The evening was pleasant for me in another way: I got to spend time with Meghan. Over the past few months I've only ever seen her briefly in social situations at A&A's and always in the presence of her boyfriend. This time, she was alone and we wound up sitting together. It was as if no time had passed since the whole incident. We were joking and having a swell, comfortable time just like we always used to. Afterward Adam intimated to me that Meghan has been making remarks to the effect over the past few months that she misses me and wishes I was around more. That made me feel good and very surprised. It's nice to know that she at least cares about me as a person. I honestly had no idea she did.
SCARY PART OF THE EVENING: The scary hairdos of many of the men in attendance. Sometimes it's easy to forget that the city I live in is surrounded by both Kansas and Missouri; two places where the mullet is king. I would've killed to have a digital camera last night. Sightings worth documenting included:
-Burly man of at least 280 pounds with slicked-back hair, black t-shirt, and twelve-inch long Amish-looking goatee. I can only assume his Amish horse buggy is covered in chrome and leather and that he proudly drives it up to Sturgis, South Dakota every year.
-Man in black t-shirt with flaking Nascar image with hideously long rat-tail mullet. This rat-tail was so thick I think it had gone right into a possum-tail. You could tell this guy still dances to "Achy Breaky Heart" and probably thinks Toby Keith is "too liberal."
-Strangest man of the night: Man with slicked-back 50's style pompadour hairdo complete with sideburns, Buddy Holly glasses, 1-size-too-small white button-up shirt, brown slacks, and polished black shoes with white socks. Meghan and I were speculating that it was a good thing the performance was ending at eight o'clock, since he was probably supposed to take Peggy Sue to the malt shop at eight-thirty. I wonder if he took her to Lover's Lane afterwards. OHMYGOSH! Do you think they held hands!? OOOH! Do you think he asked her to go steady? *giggle!*
-Imagine Jerry Seinfeld with gravity-defying grease-stiffened hair, a slack-jawed redneck expression (complete with mishapen giant buck teeth,) and a too-small teal green button-up shirt. I swear, this guy looked exactly like a backwoods yokel from a horror movie! And not one of those nifty cannibalistic ones, either. No, he looked like the one who is last seen slowly walking into a darkened chamber saying "Cledus? That yew, Cledus? Cledus?" right before emitting a blood-curdling shriek followed by a wet thumping noise, and a thick spray of blood across the wall.
So there you have it: an evening filled with lithe celebrations of the female form, unintentional celebrations of hillbilly hair, and unexpected celebrations of old friendships. I hope Amy's class puts on their next performance soon because I definately need to do this more often.
