Dross . . .

(Don't say you weren't warned.)

Have lost some of my blogging buzz recently, possibly because I've been busy going out and enjoying myself. This is a good thing as you can never have enough dancing and socialising. Well, actually you can if you're a bit of an introvert like me and need some down time after said dancing and socialising but for the rest of it, it's been great.

Except last night. We hit the First-Saturday-of-the-Month salsa night in town. The previous two times we'd been there I thought the night had potential. I thought if we persevered and kept going we'd get to know people and spend more time dancing and less time standing around trying to look relaxed, like I'm enjoying the music, and yet keen to dance, or to ask to be danced. 

It worked twice. This is not enough times for me to pay money to go, to watch the crowd who are 'in the know' greet each other effusively, dance with each other, and occasionally rudely shove past you on their way to the dance floor. We devised numerous strategies to increase the likelihood of being asked to dance like standing near the dance floor so we'd get asked to dance, then moving to another place because other women stood in front of us, separating so that we were clearly there by ourselves and there simply to dance etc. 

We ended up leaving as we felt uncomfortable there. This is not what dancing's meant to be about. It's meant to be about enjoying the music and having a great time. We will not go back. What a shame.

As a consequence I think the night has triggered that lonesome Sunday feeling I used to get. Sunday is usually my rowing day which means I get to exercise and socialise but I've suspended it this Sunday to get rid of this chest infection once and for all. 

So what am I doing instead? Clearly I am wasting my Sunday away surfing the net. . . in my defence I did get up and walk the dog and chat to the neighbours but since then, yes, have been surfing. I may be having some sort of existential crisis: if I got a 'real' job would that give me meaning? But then I like not having a 'real' job and having freedom. (Not sure how I think surfing the net is going to help.)

If I did something useful with my day and went to Bikram, would that give me purpose, but then seems a long way to go to stand in front of a mirror and sweat while trying not to scowl at the woman in front of me who seriously needed to WASH her feet before coming . . .

But enough of that, found this Little Gordon Ramsey. Very funny - you have to overlook the kid swearing, but funny.

And obligatory cute dog picture

(Found it at We know memes. . . somewhere. . . .)

Could I get one of these dogs and take it on the train with me when I go out partying? Then leave it with the bouncer at the venue while I go inside and dance? Then it can escort me home again. I'd call it Cujo, obviously. It'd be perfect. No?