Keep that tone with *me*, mister, and I'll Dr. Beat *you*!

and.... I've pretty much lost everyone but the musicians there. Ah well - I'm amused. [grin]
- and... to be honest ... that means 33% of the people who "read" this blog are laughing. Looking around quickly to make sure no one can see / hear, maybe, but definitely letting out a chuckle. Or two.
... then quickly resuming the Poker Face of Stonewall Jackson. "Give this girl a few more years of whiffing her way through entries - then maybe we'll admit we think something is funny."

Ha ha.

Haaah.....

In any case, guess who's survived almost two weeks of North Carolina mountain summer! Er, pardon - Nooorth Car-ooh-liiiiihnaah Moun'ain Suhhme'. (!) (I assume that Shaw is now rolling in his grave, but that's okay - when you're buried 6 feet under, no one can hear you scream obscenities about upstart quasi-adults.) And... funnily enough... in this quaint little town barely large enough to be found on Google Earth (though certainly not a *real* atlas, all ye nonbelievers), let alone when you're actually driving through it - "This is a nice pass-through area," you smile, and then glue your head back to your map. "Now, how many more miles is it to Brevard?' - I have experienced a multitude of firsts. All of them that you would expect from letting a gaggle of giggling teenage girls loose on the... town.
Case in point: Guess who went clubbing for the first time?
[looks around happily]
(no, not her!) ME! :D

I'll be honest - this is only the internet. Not only was this a club, but this was an all-out-dancing, get-your-freaky-moves-on club. For everyone 18 and up - hoorah, for the first time, for being 20!
... need I say more? No. No I needn't.
Well, at said club, while I wasn't part of a group doing reconnaissance work for one of our fellow band camp - pardon, "orchestra" camp - members while he wasn't, er, himself, I was actually *dancing*. For the vast majority of that, I mean tangoing / wrestling with the certain, extremely animated "Scott" (now, where's that little asterix thing that I can just do *(ah! there it is! the name isn't really Scott.)) but for about half an hour, with a stranger! I asked a tall, Hollister t-shirt-wearing (don't say a word) guy named Mitch, who happened to be hulking in the corner, to dance!


... I know, I'm shocked as well! And, the best part of the whole experience was that, not only did he say yes (I had the chloroform ready, though, just in case. "His dance moves are oddly slumped and limp!" "Yes, well, he's very dependent on me to keep our mobility up while he er.... rests."), but he didn't touch my tush once! There was a brief period where he sandwiched me with another guy, meaning a brief period of panic for *me*, but curiuosly enough, while the friend was very happy break dancing on the podium, he seemed to tire of being the outside of an oreo pretty quickly, and I was able to enjoy the rest of the night without surprises.
... though the drag show was a bit of a surprise. Confederate Flag Sparkling Dresses, anyone? Anyone?

I thought not.

It was probably the first time that - looking back only briefly - I can remember being awake and in the mood for a Huddle House (greasy waffle place) at 2:30 in the morning, but that egg-like substance with that gooey orange sauce that they called an omelet wasn't too bad at all. [grin]

So... looking back... we have:
First time clubbing. Check!
First time asking a stranger to dance. Check!
First time experiencing what many other girls enjoyed doing at junior prom. Check!
First drag show. Check!
First dress made out of sequins and Stonewall Jackson. Check!
First time I'll admit to the fact that I really, *really* want to do it all again.... well, no. I've been breaking out the "Egyptian" all week, just to practice.

... and baby, I do a *mean* Egyptian up there on those podiums.