The Ettiquette of Dancing

     Being a female, it is only right that I begin by discussing our obligations.  First, as difficult as it is to admit, trying to force a guy to dance against his will is probably as rude as his refusing to dance even when there is a huge majority of women.  Hinting, meaningfully glaring, threatening, and outright asking a man to dance are not only extremely unladylike, but also very unlikely to change his mind.  Suck it up, ask another girl to dance, and try not to let anyone see that you're on the verge of tears from having to dance the male part in every single dance.  If two girls are dancing together (or actually, in any case, since otherwise the man should always do the asking), the asker should lead.  No matter which part is yours, try to be as grateful to your partner as if you were dancing with your desired partner (i. e. an actual guy).  If you are set to dance with another girl, and a man asks you to dance, no matter how tempted you are to accept (and you will be), politely refuse.  You are already committed, and changing your mind would be extremely rude to your partner.  If you are dancing the lead, act like a gentleman!  Smile, instead of looking like you'd much rather be dancing a woman's part, with a male partner (even though you would), and when the dance is over, thank you partner and escort her off of the dance floor.  Basically, show a good example to all of the guys, who should be doing what you're doing.  If a man does ask you to dance, congratulations!  Behave with poise and grace, and avoid making any jabs about how rare it is.

      Men, if you are in a situation where dancing is going on, and you are not dancing, then unless the number of men and women dancing is right about even (unlikely), rest assured that every girl present wants to wring your neck.  We don't even really care that much if you dance with us specifically.  If you dance with any girl, that's one guy closer to an even ratio.  However, we would still like to dance with an actual male person ourselves at some point, so don't just dance with the girls you know well!  Remember what I said about either dancing or having your neck wrung?  Well, if you dance twice with the same girl you're making every girl that hasn't yet gotten to dance with a guy (especially if they've had to lead every time) want to wring your neck and then throw you into a lake with sharp rocks at the bottom, with a millstone tied around that scrawny little worthless wrung neck of yours.  Look around for girls that aren't dancing much (they'll be the ones sitting or standing and looking wistfully at the dancing from time to time) or are dancing with other girls a lot, especially in the capacity of doing a man's job (they'll be the ones trying to be very gentlemanly and dignified, but all the time feeling just like crying), and ask those girls to dance.  They will be grateful to you forever.  However, while you ought to be looking for ignored girls to dance with, while dancing, the majority of your attention ought to go to your partner.  Eye contact is of vital importance, as is grip, and conversation is nice too, but only if you can both converse and keep up with the dance.  When the dance is over, thank your partner, and escort her off of the dance floor.  Even if you don't, she will be thrilled to have danced with you, but will still be left with the faint impression that you are an impolite slob, and you would probably rather not leave that impression.

     For both men and women, the same principle applies here as in every other situation: conduct yourself with decorum, as a lady or a gentleman, and try to make the experience pleasant for your partner.  I hope this has been helpful for any readers there may be.  Now go dance your feet off!

Added note, as of 6/10/2014:  I was recently introduced to a problem I hadn't thought of before.  Men, if you are in a conversation with two girls, and ask one to dance, and she declines, ask the other girl to dance!  You'd think this would just be common sense/common courtesy, but apparently not.  Rest assured, if you don't do this, the girl you didn't ask (and probably the one you did ask) will notice, and it will not reflect well on your character.

The Day I Became Involved in Burglary

    
     A cat burglar is a burglar who is adept at entering and leaving the burglarized place without attracting notice, according to merriam-webster.com.  But you probably already knew that.  Everyone knows that.  The author of my Geometry book knows that.  My Geometry teacher probably knows that.  The one person who doesn't know that, or at least, didn't until Friday, is me.

     Of course, I thought I knew what a cat burglar was.  Who doesn't know what a cat burglar is?  It's someone who steals cats, obviously.  Duh.  And then, one day, a cat burglar came into my life, and I had to actually put my knowledge into practice.

     I'm taking Geometry this year, and while it looks like it may be involving more numbers soon, so far, it has been painfully easy, and the dullness has been impacted by the fact that for the first couple of weeks, as at the beginning of any class, everyone was too shy to talk to each other, make jokes in class, or be sarcastic.  Well, I can't deal with having my sarcasm suppressed like that, so of course, the only thing to do was to make notes whenever the problems were at all ambiguous.  Alack, such an approach would prove to be my downfall.

     Fast forward from the beginning of the school year to last Tuesday, when I was taking the second test of the course.  It was going along well, I could do every single problem without difficulty, and then, I got to the last problem.  I can't tell you what it was, or what the answer was, because of the small possibility of one of my readers using the same curriculum sometime in the future, but suffice it to say that it involved a cat burglar leaving a safe open.  "This is stupid!" I said to myself.  "Why would a cat burglar leave a safe open?  What would a cat burglar even be doing with a safe?  Why do the burgled people keep their cat in the safe?  Who wrote these problems?"  I could not let this pass without investigation.  I did the problem, put a bracket around it, wrote on the side "Important question: why do they keep their cat in the safe?" turned the test in on Wednesday, and didn't question my definitions at all.

     Fast forward to Friday afternoon.  It has been three days since I took the test, two days since I turned in the test, and I am currently standing in line with my sister, waiting to get into a concert and discussing life, the universe and everything, including the stupidity of certain Geometry problems.  I explain the problem to her, ending my explanation with "WHY DO THEY KEEP THEIR CAT IN THE SAFE?"
     "You know what a cat burglar is, right?" speaks Katie Beth.
     "Ummm...someone who steals cats?"
     "You would think that," she ejaculates, and proceeds to tell me what a cat burglar actually is.
     "Oooh, that's why the problem made absolutely no sense."

     So now, I have a Geometry test with a really stupid, embarrassing note in the margin.  I can only hope the teacher thinks I was being sarcastic.  I shall update at some point after tomorrow, when I have class again, and will get my test back.  According to all the people I've asked, the definition of cat burglar seems to be a pretty well known thing, but they're all wrong.  A cat burglar should be someone who steals cats.  If I had a cat I wouldn't have a problem with a cat burglar coming in and doing their thing, but that is neither here nor there, and I don't have a cat, and therefore don't need anyone to burgle it.

Update: I really thought that was on the test, but it turns out it was actually just on one of the problem sets, and he doesn't really check the problem sets, just makes sure we did all the problems.  Of course, there's still a chance he might have seen it, but there wasn't a note, and he didn't mention it or anything.  Phew.

Edited Airs: Episode Two

     Disclaimer: the first episode was an edited version of a song I despise, so had no qualms about mocking shamelessly.  This one is a good candidate, because it has several double negatives and such, however, it is a very good song.  So don't laugh too hard!

Streets of Bakersfield

by Dwight Yoakam

I came here looking for something
That I could not find anywhere else
I am not trying to be anybody
I would just like a chance to be myself

I have hitch hiked over a thousand miles
Yes I have gotten blisters on my heels
Trying to find something better for myself
Here on the streets of Bakersfield

You do not know me but you dislike me
You say you could not care less how I feel
But how many of you that sit and judge me
Have ever walked the streets of Bakersfield?

I spent some time in San Francisco
I spent a night there in jail
They threw this drunk man in my cell,
And I stole fifteen dollars from the very same

I Left him my watch and my old house key
Don't want folks thinking that I would steal
Then I thanked him as I was leaving,
Heading out for Bakersfield

You do not know me but you dislike me
You say you could not care less how I feel
But how many of you that sit and judge me
Have ever walked the streets of Bakersfield?

You do not know me but you dislike me
You say you could not care less how I feel
But how many of you that sit and judge me
Have ever walked the streets of Bakersfield?
Tell me, how many of you that sit and judge me
Have ever walked the streets of Bakersfield?

Sage Souffle

Ingredients:

1 egg
1/4 cup milk (heavy cream would probably be even better)
1/4 cup Parmesan cheese
1/4 cup chopped onion
2 tablespoons fresh basil, cut in strips
2 tablespoons fresh sage, cut in strips
2 tablespoons sour cream
2 teaspoons salsa

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 420 degrees.
Beat egg, and then combine all other ingredients with it.  Pour into an 8oz ramekin, and bake for 30 minutes.  Tada!

Serves 1.

I really wish I could make this recipe more interesting for reading purposes, but that's really as simple as it is, and it turned out quite good!  Please accept my apology, and this imaginary bouquet of snapdragon and fuchsia (speaking of fuchsia, when did it start getting spelled like that?).

Tomato Basil Alfredo

     I recently acquired a basil plant (his name is Wilfred), and have been trying lately to find ways to use fresh basil.  So far, Tomato Basil Alfredo is my favorite use. 

     This is really a very adaptable idea, and I've done it various different ways, but the gist of it is pasta mixed with Alfredo sauce, topped with first basil, and then tomato.  Spaghetti, or fettuccine, or any other stringy pasta is much better than anything else, because it is much easier to mix without dropping noodles all over the place. 

     Definitely put it together differently if you're cooking for just yourself than if you are making it for other people as well.  If you are only making one dish of the Alfredo, it's really not worth the bother of making a whole batch of Alfredo sauce, and it's very easy to improvise using cream cheese, Parmesan cheese, garlic powder, salt, pepper, pasta water, and a microwave, in the very dish you're going to be eating out of.  However, if it is a meal for several people, you are really better off making actual Alfredo sauce (this is a very good recipe), and putting together an assembly line so that everyone can put together their own food.

     As for the basil and tomato, they are the same no matter how you do everything else, and very simple.  Take a lot of fresh basil leaves, stack them up on top of each other, roll up the leaves cigar fashion (direction doesn't matter), and slice thinly. 

Slice tomatoes, and chop them into small cubes.  Sprinkle the basil on, and then the tomato, and, if desired, garnish with two smallish basil leaves.  This needs to be done after any microwaving is done, and, of course, after the Alfredo sauce and pasta are already mixed together.

Boxed pasta is perfectly acceptable, but if you choose to make your own pasta, here is a very good recipe.

Edited Airs: Episode One

     It has come to my attention that most songs with words have some grievous grammatical errors, and have a general uncouth sound because of that.  I have therefore made it my duty to correct these problems, and restore to the songs their rightful elegance.  Without further ado, I present to you, Edited Airs, Episode the First.

Cruise

by Florida Georgia Line

Baby, you are a song.

You make me want to roll my windows down, and cruise.

When I first saw you, you were scantily clad,

And were popping out of southern Georgia's water.

I thought "oh, good heavens!"  You had those long tan legs.

I couldn't help myself, so I walked up and said,

"Baby you are a song.

You make me want to roll my windows down, and cruise

Down a back road, ignoring stop signs,

Going through the middle of every little farm town

With you.

"I have this brand new Chevrolet with a lift kit,

And it would look so much better with you in it,

So baby you are a song.

You make me want to roll my windows down, and cruise."

Yes, she was sipping on Southern things and singing Marshall Tucker, thank you for asking!

 We were falling in love in the sweet heart of summer.

She hopped right into the cab of my truck

and said "set the truck on fire!  Let us go get it stuck!"

Baby, you are a song.

You make me want to roll my windows down, and cruise

Down a back road, ignoring stop signs,

Going through the middle of every little farm town

With you.

I have this brand new Chevrolet with a lift kit,

And it would look so much better with you in it,

So baby you are a song.

You make me want to roll my windows down, and cruise.

When that summer sun fell to his knees,

I looked at her, and she did the same to me.

I turned on the KC lights and drove all night,

Because it felt so very right.

In fact, the both of us felt right!

I parked the truck

And grabbed my guitar.

I strummed two chords

And sang from the depths of my heart.

 

"Girl, you have the heart in my chest beating!

I would have died if you hadn't given me that resuscitation!

It is certainly fortunate that you have your CPR certification!

Why, I can't get you out of my thoughts!

"Baby you are a song.

You make me want to roll my windows down, and cruise

Down a back road, ignoring stop signs,

Going through the middle of every little farm town

With you.

"And I know I already said this, but

 Baby you are a song.

You make me want to roll my windows down, and cruise

Down a back road, ignoring stop signs,

Going through the middle of every little farm town

With you.

"I have this brand new Chevrolet with a lift kit,

And  it would look so much better with you in it."

Baby you are a song.

You make me want to roll my windows down, and cruise.

Roll down your windows and let us cruise!

The REAL Reason for Wearing Sunscreen

     I recently made the mistake of not wearing sunscreen for a whole day at the beach.  My thought process was that, not being as fair skinned as my siblings, I would get a little burnt, peel, and end up tan, instead of sickly pale like I was before.  This is, more or less, what happened, but in the process, my nose got all raw and scabby.  In itself, this was a minor problem, a slight discomfort and a bit of unsightliness, however, combined with the fact that I would shortly be seeing several relatives who tend to be very concerned about sunburn, and skin cancer, and all such things (and many things that are not such at all), the decision carried a lack of foresight.  The first day seeing these relatives, I was surrounded by aunts, grandfathers, and more aunts, asking me how my nose got to be like that, gasping, warning me that I would get dreadful cancer and die from it, and telling me that I needed to slather my face in Zinc Oxide.  Granddaddy even tried to get me to wear one of his hats, but that, fortunately, was not pressed, and I managed to avoid it.  What I did not manage to avoid was the Zinc Oxide.
     My aunt accosted me before going downstairs, and unceremoniously informed me that I had to put something more substantial than just sunscreen on, and that since they didn't have any Zinc, I was going to have to wear diaper rash cream, which apparently has zinc in it.  Diaper rash cream!  The indignity!  As my oldest sister informed me as soon as I told her of it, I was a buttface!  I couldn't scratch my nose if it itched, because I would get gross white stuff on my finger, I couldn't go out in public with any sort of complacency, because I looked ridiculous, my face didn't even feel wet when going underwater (I'm not a duck!  I'm not supposed to have a layer of oil to keep me dry!), my cousin kept commenting that "your face looks a little white, Rebecca, are you okay?" (the thing, if you remember, that I wanted to avoid people asking seriously.  And, in fact, it had been asked, though not to me directly.), and my hair kept sticking to my face, and was gross even after I washed the abominable stuff off!
     Eventually, after all watery and sunny activities had taken place, I got to shower and rid myself of my facial trappings, and the next day my nose looked enough better that no one mentioned the necessity for diaper paste again, but the memory of it haunts me to this very day.  And that, my dear children, is the real reason sunscreen is so important.