Posted by: DD | February 19, 2006

I Am The Best Liar, EVER!

So, that’s all you’ve learned about me from 6 months of blogging? I’m a myopic, horny lush? Oh, ladies, how you wound me! But, before I get to that, I will mention that even though you think so “highly” of me, I would still split out the powerball winnings with my best be-otches: IVFs all ’round, bartender (to those who want but can’t afford, and to the rest, we’ll work out something)! Alas, it was not us who purchased the winning ticket(s), not for lack of forking out a couple of bucks over the past week, but just because we could never be that lucky.

Recap of Liar, Liar is as follows: 1. Barfing Blue-Berry; 2. Myopic, Horny Lush (I can’t believe you went there!); 3. Cheapo Margo; 4. Private Dancer; and 5. Wee, Wee, Wee All the Way Home. Only one of you “guessed” correctly at the truth, and that was the lovely Suzanne, and that was ONLY because she knew! She slyly came in as the no. 10 commenter with her cleverly disguised guess. Indeed, I was a professional ballroom dancer and instructor.

During my sophomore year at the infamous Nebraska university, I became a disillusioned artist: the classes were too big and the teachers really didn’t give a shit if you passed or failed. I flunked out the first semester and decided to find a job instead of going back to school. I was barely 19, but was able to BS my way into a job at a franchised dance studio and was trained in the basics. In the following 4 years (in which I spent more time in 3 1/2″ heels than a Vegas cross-dressing hooker – standing on my feet – going backwards), I had moved through the ranks as an instructor for beginners to advanced. I was a supervisor in a couple different studios within the midwest and had the opportunity to compete professionally and in the pro-am (teacher-student) levels. Ironically, the main goal of the studios – for those of you who have never taken lessons – is sales in dance lessons. BIG sales. I had one student who purchased a package that not only included several hundred hours of lessons, but a competition package to Florida. He plunked down $37,000 that day. No shit. I will never forget that student. He had a dour-face, but he was the sweetest man I have ever had the privelage to meet.

In the above pix, I am the one in the pink dress with some of the other instructors and students. The one below is from a regional pro-am and am leading a student through one of our routines.

At 23, I decided that I was not getting any younger (bwahahahahaha!) and decided that being a ballroom instructor was never part of my retirement plan – actually who makes a retirement plan in their 20’s? I quit, became a boomerang baby and moved back to Small Town, Nebraska and completed my degree closer to home.

I did entertain for quite a while the possibility of opening my own dance studio here, and was even pursued by an established jazz/ballet studio to provide lessons. The disadvantages were too many: no skilled – or even closely willing – dance partner (Mr. DD who has an excellent ear for music, does NOT have any rhythm) and certainly no time to train a partner; no extra funds; and at the time only a half-dozen or so interested couples.

Almost 20 years later, I still watch the USBC (United States Ballroom Championships) on the public TV channel and I look for familiar faces. Obviously no one I use to know is still competing professionally, but I see them as judges occassionally.

D&ncing with the St&rs? I hate it, but watch it because I like to point out the mistakes to Mr. DD who believes only a coke-head with AADD could move as “fast” as they do with the Cha-cha. I poo-poo it all. “Make them perform Mambo or Vienese Waltz!” is what I say to that noise because those rhythms are more difficult. Really though, I think I watch because I miss it. Every now and then a song comes on the radio and it has the perfect beat for a Rumba, Cha-cha, Foxtrot, etc., and I dance to the song in my head reciting “ticka-ticka”, which was how we verbalized the hip-action; or “quick-quick-slo-ow” to remind myself of the timing of a Foxtrot.

Someday, if I ever do win the lottery, I have already decided I would like to become one of those students that any ballroom instructor only dreams about: one with LOTS of money and a little bit of ticka-ticka to make me dangerous.

I also think I’ve learned something about this particular meme. There are times when you just have to believe in what may seem unbelievable. I will try to keep that in my head (and heart) over the next couple of months.

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