Thursday, August 18, 2011
An appointment for Hip Hop
Anyhow, most activities require the anonymity of online sign up or sending in something through the mail, but the Dance Studio that I chose for both Hallie and Eva, asked that I make "an appointment". If you know me at all, it takes a long time for ridiculousity to register with me, but when it does, which is usually 5 minutes before I am about to be manipulated, I become extremely emotional.
So I am taking a shower, which I am peeved about because I wasn't planning to on this day, and I had finished putting away the laundry and cleaning the house and was just about to pick up the novel I had been reading when I realized that I had made an appointment for Hip Hop class.
I become infuriated during my shower, even though I was rebelling a bit by refusing to wash my hair, AGAIN, and relying on my trusty dry shampoo, because why, WHY, must I make an appointment to sign my child up for Hip Hop Class in the first place? Do I need a resume too? Should I bring a video montage? What in the FUCK? I have worked myself up into a frenzy by the time I am picking out yet another bathing suit cover up that I believe qualifies as an outfit, when I decide to call my neighbor, Megan to vent.
I know she is home because she pretends to work on a daily basis but I keep seeing her during work hours out at the Market or some workout facility around town.
"Can I just VENT to you for a second. I am SOOOO PISSED!" I hiss into the phone as soon as she picks up. "I KNOW you are not working so I am going to UNLEASH on you, again, do you care?"
"No problem. That is what I am here for, Doll. Whasssup?"
"Okay. You know how Hallie wants to do Hip Hop class this Fall, right?" I am starting to calm.
"Right. Hilarious. I remember." she yawns.
"Well, I had to make AN APPOINTMENT to register her and Eva for dance class at this place and this has forced me to shower and I AM JUST LIVID."
"Agreed. Very rude. How could they not KNOW that?" she counters.
So I give her the schpeal about the resume and the video and she laughs and concurs that it is utterly ridiculous, which makes me feel better and then she asks me if I need to borrow some of her work clothes for the interview, which we are now calling it.
I ask her if I can borrow "a suit and pumps..preferably a nice navy" and we howl with laughter. "You know, I feel like this woman is encouraging me to let my Freak Flag fly at this point. I should wear a pillbox hat, just to drive the point home," I say.
"You already have one. Why don't you wear the straw one you bought at the Flea Market we went to together? It would make a great blog."
Now it is getting serious. She is challenging me. I decide against it, because there is enough "staging" with reality TV and I gotta keep this blog REAL, man, for the folks in Indonesia, if nothing else.
Megan then asks if I want her to go in my place, like in the movie Good Will Hunting, when Ben Affleck sits in for Matt Damon at a job interview and asks for a signing bonus in cash. (I love his tube socks in that scene.)
Megan intends to negotiate a pole dancing class for herself, as she impersonates me, rather than the cash that I am requesting that she get. We are crying laughing at this point. I need to go or I'll be late for the interview.
I get dressed, put on some makeup and fly out the door, expecting the worst, natch, because the set up is just too brilliant to let me down.
To make a long story short, the woman I interacted with was LOVELY, and HELPFUL, and actually the process of her helping me to sign up was much better than my usual experience where I screw something up and then have to fix it through a series of emails, texts, and phone calls.
She is quite literal, as you might expect, and I am explaining that I need to go and get my checkbook because they don't take credit, and I NEVER posses cash, and if I did, I would not spend untraceable money on THIS, so I try to walk out the door without my paperwork, first, and then my keys.
She snickers and says, "Oh, when I was going through the KID thing, I once lost my keys FOR A WEEK, and then I ended up finding them in the freezer, of all things! I mean, WHY would I leave them in the FREEZER! It's just so CRAZY!"
I am getting into a rhythm with her, or so I think, and I counter, "Maybe it was because you were getting your VODKA out!"
Crickets for a while and then, "Oh, I don't think so. I never drink."
We stare at each other for an awkward moment and then I excuse myself. NIIIICCCCCEEEE. Way to make a first impression, douche bag.
Anyway, my advice to you today is to try out Bartelt Dance Studio. They offer Tap, Ballet, Ballroom, and Hip Hop for all ages. The commitment is for the duration of the school year, but you can QUIT anytime before March if your kids aren't into it, which I appreciate, because I have successfully raised a brood of underachievers, like myself. It is relatively cheap, and you get a discount for multiple children and they are running a special right now where if you get friends to sign up, they will take off 20 per cent of their "order" off of YOUR bill!
What is better than that? Hey, I know what's better... not to make an asshole of yourself when you are filling out your paperwork, but what do I know?
Pic above is of Hallie, when she was four and took Ballet. She was at a recital. She hated it. We quit right after that.