(Week 26) Event: Salsa Lessons and First Date with Han Solo (from speed dating)
I used to think I was a pretty good dancer. Well, a pretty funny dancer anyway. Regardless, I was always fairly certain I had rhythm and a few good moves. Unfortunately, I have been spending most of my adult life in a comatose state because last Thursday night I learned I posses none of these things.
There's a bar downtown that gives free Salsa lessons every Thursday night (for a $6 cover...go figure) so two of my girlfriends and I decided we would take the plunge. The plan was to meet for the 8:30 "beginner" lesson and take it from there. This will be a fun girl's night out where we can pretend to be Latin, dance like idiots and make fun of ourselves later. That was a fine plan until I got a call from the Indian Doctor (whom I met at the Speed Dating event) asking if I could get together Thursday night! Despite my attempt to set up something right after work, he had a conflict and couldn't meet until 7:30. I tried to explain to him I had something else going on and would need to be done by 8:30 (didn't want to reveal what I was doing) but he probed and probed until I gave in and told him. He then said, "That's cool - I'll join you!" Oh for the love.
Thursday night I arrived at the bar at 7:30 and was surprised to find the bar was no longer open for business. Shoot. Quickly trying to figure out a back-up plan, my date suggested we go around the corner to a bowling alley (which conveniently had a bar). Perfect! As I made my way towards the bar, I looked back and he had stopped at the front counter. He was like, "Where are you going? We're going to bowl!" Clearly he hadn't noticed I was wearing a skirt, heels and a silk blouse. But, we signed up for a lane and when the girl behind the counter asked me what shoe size I needed I was like, "Um, I'm wearing heels, you see? That means I'm NOT wearing socks which means I'm NOT putting on stinky, fungus infected BOWLING SHOES!" Ok, I didn't really say that to her, but I did say it in my head. $3.75 later, I was the proud owner of a new pair of tube socks. Neat.
Mortified, we make our way to the lane and I begin to sweat through my silk blouse thinking about everything I had to concentrate on: 1) Wearing tube socks with a skirt required me to overcompensate and flex my calf muscles extra hard so he would focus on them and NOT on the socks. Problem is, I don't really have any calf muscles. Shit! 2) I can't run down the lane like I usually do because I need to be a dainty lady so I must maintain a lady-like pace. This will negatively impact my score. Dang. 3) When I bend over and release the ball, I mustn't bend over too much because my skirt might lift up a little revealing my polka-dotted granny panties (they're the only ones that were clean!)
For the record, I am generally a good bowler, but I got gutters left and right because I was focusing on everything BUT bowling. After the second frame, my date turned to me and said, "You know, you look like a school girl in that outfit." Not sure if that was a good thing or if I should turn in my ball and head home, he then said, "But don't worry, it's a turn on!" There are no words.
Luckily, 8:30 was here before we knew it (Thank God) so we packed up and headed out - tube socks and all. We arrived at the bar and were quickly thrown into the beginners Salsa lesson that had already begun. There were 5 other people in class not including my girlfriends who were late. Cha Cha. Let's begin.
For the next hour, we cha-cha'd, merengue'd and tango'd our butts off and for a brief moment, I was dancing with the stars...but flashbacks of tube socks and a mini-skirt threw me back into reality. My date was a good sport despite stepping on my toes more than I'd like to count. And while Stella may not have gotten her groove back, good times (and good laughs) were had by all.
(Week 27) Event: Played a round of golf
I mean how hard can it really be? Swing the club. Hit the ball. Ride in a little cart and drink beer. I mean, if you can drink BEER while playing this sport, can it really be that difficult?
Um, apparently so.
This week I went to visit my parents out of town and my dad took me to play my first round of golf. Ever. The problems began even before we hit the course, unfortunately. Since I hadn't planned on playing any sports while on vacation, the only clothes I brought were flip flops, capri's and t-shirts. When we decided this would be a fun father-daughter activity, I panicked, realizing I did not have the proper attire. An hour before our tee-time, I made a mad dash into Wal-Mart hoping Isaac Mizrahi had something cute in the shape of shorts or a skirt and a cute top. Oh, and tennis shoes. Luckily, I found the perfect combination and bought an entirely new outfit for $23.00. Gotta love it.
Dad and I arrived at the clubhouse, checked in, hopped on a cart and were on our way. For the record, I have hit golf balls before, just never played a round and have never had any formal training. This was going to be good. We stepped up to the tee and I received my first of many lessons: Keep your eye on the ball. Keep your head down. Keep your left arm straight. Swing the club as far around your body as possible. Don't drop your shoulder. Swing all the way through. Sheesh! So much to remember! I took my first swing and somehow managed to hit my own hand. Not sure how that happened. But, I got the ball in the hole 6 (ish) strokes later. Not too shabby for a par 4. On the second hole, I took a bigger swing and managed to hit the golf cart (which was behind me). I'm literally going backwards. My personal best, though, was the 3rd hole. The course was fairly straight with a slight jog to the left. It was a par 4 but I managed to get the little white piece of sh%&t ball in the hole in 15 strokes. Fore!
About half way through our game, a woman resembling Octomom meandered her way across the course, lollygagging with her boxer/pit-bull dog. Contemplating whether I should wait for her or not, I decided if I tried not to hit her, I would probably hit her, but if I did aim for her, I'd probably hit the dog and then I'd feel really bad. So I waited. Finally, she was out of site and we kept going. As we rounded the corner to the putting green, she was sitting on a bench next to her dog and she had made a bed of ice for her dog to lie in! As we drove by in our cart, she was feeding him ice while he was lounging in it. Clearly, someone else had hit her in the head....
We continued through the course and surprisingly I got better with each hole (I think it was my lucky Wal-Mart $10 sneakers). I learned that a wedge club has a "W" on it (not an "M") and a sand wedge has an "S" on it and you use it in the sand traps (did that twice - first time knocked the ball out with only removing about 4 grains of sand. Second time I whiffed and knocked out about a sandbox worth of sand).
At the end of 9 holes, my score was 60. We were losing daylight and I was just losing. Period. To think pro golfers sometimes score in the 60's playing 18 holes! Despite my horrific score, I did learn a thing or two. These may not be the technical terms, but it's how I interpreted them.
-Birdie - An animal. Also a score you want because it's less than what you're supposed to get (I won't ever need to remember this one).
-Bogey - This is when you score 1 over what you're supposed to get (I had this plus about 5 on most holes)
-Caddie - similar to a pool boy, beer bitch, maid...but for clubs
-Slice - a ball that curves from left to right. Yeah, I meant to do that when I hit the golf cart. I was SLICING it.
Handicap - something I clearly have.
-Mulligan - When a golfer is not satisfied with their first shot, they take out a new ball and start again. I had 74 Mulligans.
I'm no Phil Nicklaus or Jack Mickelson but darnit there's just something about this game when all it takes is one great shot that makes you jump up and down (oops, not supposed to cheer) to make you want to sign up and do it again. I'm hooked FORE!ever!