Archive for the ‘Fun and Games’ Category
December 8, 2007
Hotclue’s 2007 Annual “How Do They Get Here?” List
I like to do this once a year, show y’all some of the phrases used by readers who wind up at my website through no fault of their own. They type these phrases into their browsers and who do they get? Moi, somehow, the poor things. Well, I welcome every single one of them and they’re an endless source of interest and amusement to me. I just thought I’d let y’all see some of my most recent ones, along with my own added comments, and sometimes, sorta kinda maybe rational answers. Here we go:
clinton and beth anderson divorce — You have NO idea how many of these I get every single month. Apparently a lot of people are obsessed with finding out the truth about myself and Clinton. So let me clear this up once and for all: I did NOT have sex with Hillary Clinton. (Bill is another story.)
sexy beth waiting — Is she already sexy, or is she just waiting to BE sexy?
leotard straitjacket — Folks, I get an awful lot of straitjacket hits. WTF???
kinky — Would this be Friedman, or just…Kinky? 😉
sorority spanking — Makes you wonder what goes on in the average American mind nowadays, doesn’t it.
gym bloomers — Lonely for the Good Old Days, are ya? Oooh, those sexy blue bloomers. NOT.
anderson hot — Well, Beth thinks she is. Far be it for ME to discourage her. I have to live with her, after all. (For anyone who doesn’t understand this, see my very first blog entry in February, 2006. It’ll all become clear to you.)
hot local sluts — Those would almost certainly be my critique partners, right? Phone numbers available on request. Just send cash. 😉
when a narcissist leaves you — Cross yourself, move to a different state (or country), and hope he never finds you.
spanking fun & games — More spanking games? America, what’s going on here? Are we a little angry at anyone in particular, like in the White House, maybe? Oops, mustn’t get political, right?
night sounds — A little serious BSP here: That would be one of my books. Even more serious BSP: Buy it, you’ll love it.
i can’t get over a narcissist — Yes, you can, as long as you keep far, far away.
neckedgirls — Pat Robertson, you’re not fooling me, I know that’s you.
boyfriend does not have a clue — Maybe he’ll get one when he becomes a man. But probably not.
spandex straitjacket — MORE straitjacket hits. Hmmmm…
typing games — That would be found on Yahoo or MSN chats, I think. 😉
can narcissist really love someone — Yes. Himself. (I get TONS of narcissist question hits every month. Are there REALLY that many running around loose? Cheesh! Call the CIA or something!)
victoria secret ben wah balls — I didn’t know you could get them there! Maybe that’s where Beth’s husband got them?
beth games — Beth must have some kind of wild secret life I don’t know anything about because I get lots of these hits, too.
nascar babe — GUILTY! I got my Jimmie Johnson t-shirt yesterday to prove it, too!
pics of old gym suits from high school — Longing for those good old bloomer days, are ya? Whatever flips your switch, I say.
should get married at sixteen — NONONONONONONO! By the time you’re nineteen, and I know no sixteen year old girl is ever going to believe this, you’ll be an entirely different person, saddled with a man you don’t even know or like anymore, and a couple of cute little, but constantly hungry, wet rugrats with head colds. Don’t do that to yourself, I BEG you! Wait till you’re thirty is my advice.
afraidofme heroin washingtonpost — This one took me aback because there IS an “afraidofme” who posts on the comment pages of WAPO. I have no idea of his or her pharmaceutical choices, but he/she does come up with a lot of interesting political comments, some of which I agree with, some not.
how do i make him value me — First, make him give you diamonds, lots of them. Big ones. At least three carats each. Then hide them. He’ll value you, no problem, at least until he tracks down those diamonds.
how do i leave a narcissist — Walk out the door. Never look back.
real romance love letter — Maybe I should write those for people. I’d probably make a lot more money than I do writing novels. Come to think of it, MJ Rose wrote a BEAUTIFUL book about a fictional heroine who did just that.
hot yoga — I want the answer to this one, too. Maybe in the Kama Sutra pages, ya think?
her name is lola. she will be my yacht. — Okay, Barry, I know that’s you, but I thought you promised you were going to name your new yacht “The Hotclue”!
help on writting an mystery uthors synposis — Uh, hon, I think you need a little more help than that…
lisa gardner — And this poor hapless Internet searcher got me…but hi anyway, glad to meet you! Say hi to Lisa for me!
oh whatever makes you because i got what i wanted now — Is this by chance one of Beth’s ex-husbands?
turkey and dressing for 100 — I can only run screaming out of the room at the thought of doing this.
hot boys — What’s the problem? They’re lining up outside my door even as we speak. Come on over, I’ll give you a few of my leftovers.
made me go barefoot — No problem there either. Mine BEG me to go barefoot.
in a train wreck with the narcissist — Correction. The narcissist IS the train wreck.
coughing up a fur ball — Sarge says to tell you Hey, and she’ll be doing her own 2007 Furball Year End Blog sometime this month. Man, has she got a looooong list THIS year!
worst spanking from wife — Did it hurt-ums? Did ooo wike it?
pekin — Someone from my checkered past trying to track me down, maybe? Well, here I am, in the flesh, so to speak.
how hots a turkey supposed to be — 175 degrees. Then cover it with foil and a big folded bath towel over the foil and let it sit in its own juice for a while. (Well hey, I have to make a serious, rational comment ONCE in a while, right? I KNOW this works.)
beth glitters — Well, she thinks she does. But really, I’m the one who glitters 24/7, not just once in a while, like her.
anderson map — Now I could understand this if you asked for a Hotclue map, which is far more interesting than any old Beth Anderson map.
pictures of hot christmas girls — Well, we all know what you want in YOUR Christmas stocking this year, don’t we.
love me hot — Yes I do. You KNOW I do, and so does Beth and so does Sarge.
sign your relatives are like fudge — This conjours up a fascinating picture to me, of my relatives, anyhow.
christmas rhyming clue — And did you find anything that DOES rhyme with Christmas? Please share, and also, share what rhymes with Orange.
gabrina garza take me out — Hmmm…I foresee a potential problem here…
picture of a hot fudge sundae — One of my relatives, by chance? One who blows hot and cold at the same time, maybe? Food for thought.
narcissistic boyfriend replacing you –You should be so lucky. Pray for your replacement, it’s the charitable thing to do.
homemade hot clue — At home, abroad, on a boat, on a plane…
limerick barry manilow — Barry, quit posting here. I’m still mad at you for not naming your yacht after me.
100 things to make from a cardboard box — This would be one of Beth’s husband’s relatives trying to save money at Christmas, LOL!
hot sexy pekin men –Well, I just bet there are a lot of them, now that you mention it.
bare picture of most beautiful girl of afghanistan — Oh oh. bin Laden, get off my blog.
inserting ben waa balls — This is a hydraulics question I’m not prepared to answer at the moment. Actually, I could, but Beth won’t let me.
want a nice hot women — Just ONE? But wait, we got a problem here. “Women” is plural, right? (What did you say your phone number was?)
examples for a 250 word mini saga — I have never written or spoken only 250 words on anything in my entire life. Any takers?
hot sex nabors — Jim, what are you getting into now? Just sing Back Home Again in Indiana once a year at the Indy 500, that’s good enough for me.
beth anderson nude — You really, REALLY don’t want to see that.
clue to hidden christmas present — The ben wah balls, I take it?
That’s it for this time, folks. Come back again next week, we’ll leave the porch light on for you. Beth is in the kitchen whipping up a big batch of Egg Nog right now.
We love you, you KNOW we do!
November 17, 2007
HOTCLUE THE NASCAR BABE, THAT’S ME!!!
Okay, I’ll admit it. You heard it here first. I’m a JIMMIE JOHNSON NASCAR groupie. I have become a salivating, jumping off the sofa and screaming through every lap, tungsten-steel-hard-core NASCAR racing fan.
I’m even thinking about springing for a Jimmie Johnson sweatshirt, and if (IF???) he wins the championship and breaks Jeff Gordon’s record of four straight wins in the trophy races this upcoming Sunday, I’ll have to ask Count Baballalapaloozo to buy me an entire wardrobe ’cause those Nascar clothes are pricey. Nice, but WHOO HOO pricey!
It’s the Count’s fault anyway, he took me to one of the races over the summer, I got one look at Jimmie Johnson, who passed close enough by me that I could almost touch his gorgeous, tight little butt, and I fell in lust. Good GOD, Did I Ever!
I didn’t touch him though, his extremely lovely wife (I gotta admit this is true) was with him, so I left him alone. But I can dream, can’t I?
Yanno, it’s not so much his astonishing good looks, because NASCAR drivers are all, by nature, good looking and sexy, a girl’s wet dream every Sunday afternoon. I haven’t seen a single one I’d kick out of my gold-lined faux lepoardskin sleeping bag.
In Jimmie’s case, it’s the way he drives. He’s sneaky and he’s smart, the smartest one in the Nascar league, far as I can see anyway, although that might be colored by my overwhelming lust–er–admiration of his tight little butt. (OMIGOD, he is SO cute!)
Please, Santa, PLEASE put Jimmie Johnson in my panty hose this year for Christmas. The ones I’m wearing on Christmas Eve, okay? His wife would never know, right? How could she, when Beth swears I’m just a figment of her imagination.
Don’t believe her, folks. I’m as real as they come.
I’m probably years behind everyone else discovering NASCAR. I do that because I’m so busy all the time and things just sort of pass me by. CD players were out for ten years before I bought one. DVD players, I have to refer to the written directions every time I use mine. I was years behind on buying one. So you can imagine my astonishment when I recently discovered NASCAR has been running for a lot of years. It’s way older than I am. I won’t speak for Beth, she keeps track of her own years, but this has been going on forEVER and it all just went right over my head.
No longer. The fun to me, besides all the good looking guys to look at, is watching, over time, all the different drivers’ styles and what it is that makes different drivers either win or lose. In Jimmie’s case, he hangs back and sneaks forward toward the end of the race. Others try that, but never with his panache. It’s just the way he does it. (I wonder if he’s that way when he makes love? There’s a thought…)
If y’all haven’t been watching NASCAR races because you’ve heard them referred to as Rednecks Only, that’s just not true. NASCAR racing is a billion dollar business. Watch it a few times, you’ll be as hooked as I am.
For now, GO, JIMMIE JOHNSON! Hotclue’s got your back!
Thank y’all for hanging in here with Beth and me over the past months. I wasn’t much help, honkin’ all over the world with Count Babbalallapaloozo, but I intend to help her out all I can from now on. Y’all know how helpful I CAN be, right?
Just remember, we love y’all, you KNOW we do, so come on back and see us again soon, ya hear me?
Love, Hotclue Herself, no matter what Beth says. 😉
January 24, 2007
331 WORDS TOO MANY! DANG!
I was reading Miss Snark’s blog earlier and she mentioned a funny contest over on Musings of a Dinosaur. I honked on over there because normally if Miss Snark thinks something’s funny, it is, to this Snarkling. This contest is for the best “Screw You” letter in which you tell someone off without appearing to tell them off, which hugely appealed to me.
However, the word limit is 250 words. Since I just spent two hours on this entry and the word count came in at 581 and I can’t decide what to cut to get it down to 250, I decided to post my entry here instead. I won’t win any prizes, but I might just make you chuckle and yank you out of your depression from watching the State of the Union Address last night, if you watched it. Here it is, all 581 words of it. I’d win, I know I’d win, if the Dinosaur would only let me have 581. Sigh…
I received your letter yesterday whereas you apprised me of your negative feelings about my having requested a tad more than $40 a month in child support for my four children from my ex-husband, who is also their father, and who I understand is now your husband.
Unfortunately, your letter contained quite a few grammatical errors, which, because I’m told you strive for perfection at all times, I’m sure you’d want to have all thirty-two of your grammatical errors corrected by someone who knows how to write.
I’ve highlighted all of your errors in yellow, with my handwritten corrections above each error. Also, regarding your corrected letter, I’ve sent color photocopies to each of my ex-husband’s relatives since I know they do like to keep track of what’s going on with my four children, which are also my ex-husband’s children.
I heard through the grapevine about your having discovered hardened strawberry-banana Jell-O in your brand new eight-thousand dollar, built-in Olympic-size swimming pool, instead of the Bahaman-warm water you were expecting when you jumped in it the other night after (or was it during?) the huge catered party you threw for him on his fiftieth birthday. I hope you’ll be able to get the water heater fixed. It’s no fun running outside from your warm three-story mansion and jumping into a cold swimming pool full of hard strawberry-banana Jell-O, is it. My sincere sympathies.
Also, please extend my apology to my ex-husband who is now your husband, about his Income Tax return this year, which won’t be forthcoming just yet, I’m afraid. It was somehow forwarded to my small two-bedroom apartment, in which all four of my ex-husband’s children are now living, along with myself and the family dog, which was also my ex-husband’s dog. Now that I’m thinking about it, I was also his wife. But I digress.
Somehow I seem to have inadvertently written DECEASED on the envelope containing his Income Tax return and dropped it in the mailbox. I’m sure it won’t take more than a year or so to collect the money back from the IRS–which is located in Kansas City in case you didn’t know. I have to admit it’s far from your mansion, but on the other hand, it’s not a bad trip using his private jet. I apologize for the inconvenience and truly hope he’s able to pay your Prada bill anyhow.
I also hope for your sake the attendants on his private jet are keeping plenty of good face cream on the plane handy for your use. Please forgive my telling you this, but I saw your photo a few days ago and the rigors of living with my ex-husband, who is also the father of my four children, must be taking its toll on your face. Not to worry, they’re barely noticeable, dear, although now that you’re turning twenty-two you might want to pay special attention to the deeper lines on your forehead, which do tend to show up in photos.
For now though, I’m sure you’re safe. Your husband, who is also my ex-husband and the father of my four children, won’t be replacing you for at least five or ten years, if he follows the pattern he’s already established.
Well, that’s my news for now. I appreciate the letter, and it was so kind of you to remind me that you do, after all, have bills to pay and a life to lead.
Have a happy one.
God, I crack myself up sometimes. But can’t you just SEE some furious ex-wife writing something like that?
Hey, come back again in a few days, in fact over the weekend, at which time I’m going to blog about the budding author’s worst nightmare—the word FOCUS, which you’ll also find many, many times on Miss Snark’s blog if she ever does another Crap-O-Meter.
Love y’all, you KNOW I do!
August 19, 2006
Who Googles Hotclue?
I thought this week I’d share with y’all something that has been an endless source of high, hilarious entertainment to me ever since Beth first gave me this blog to babble and tap dance around in every week.
This (below) is a list of some of the search phrases people have used to reach our website over the past month, along with some comments from me in parentheses. I love them. Some made me laugh out loud, and I’m sure some didn’t intend to wind up here on my little blog, but still, they had to click on a link to get here and they did, so I’m happy. They came, they looked around, I hope they laughed and I hope they all come back.
Before I start making fun of some of the search phrases though, my heartfelt thanks to everyone who Googles us, or Googles anything, and winds up here.
Some phrases are because of our books, some because of our workshops, most are because of blog entries we’ve (mostly I’ve) written over the past six months. And some…well, I have no idea.
But they’re all interesting and some are downright hilarious. I get to see them by checking my stats program every day or so, and the search phrases part is by far my favorite. I thought you might like to see some of them too, so here we go:
ben wah balls (I’m grinning here. Check out my very first blog entry in February.)
beth anderson (WHAT? They didn’t Google Hotclue?)
beth (They did it again. Now I’m getting upset.)
writing a synopsis (we have overwhelming hits from this one every month, hurrah!)
writing the tight bare bones synopsis beth anderson
i ll take manhattan miniseries
gay (One of my past guests.)
kinky friedman (Looking for Kinky? So am I! But they got little ol’ me. Kinky, are you there? I’m still waiting!) (Don’t tell Count Babbalallapaloozo, though. If you do, there go my Christmas two-carat diamond studs. And to think I just got my ears re-pierced.)
beth anderson blog (I keep tellin’ y’all, it’s MINE!)
gay men in the military
purpose of a synopsis course
back home again in indiana jim neighbors
imus in the morning coffee mug (I want one too! I have to get on The Imus Show to get it, though and I’m working on it. Honest. I am. Maybe I’ll get to meet Col. Jack Jacobs, THE cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, EVER!) (Don’t tell the Count I said that, either.) (But do tell the Imus people ;-))
fighting a narcissist
richard speck childhood
how to deal with a narcissist
book outline and synopsis
murder mystery no profanity books (That’s one of our books, Murder Online.)
beth anderson writer (She’s still getting all the hits? I want a raise!)
gorgeous barry manilow (I’ll somewhat go along with that.)
hot woman sounds (They’re getting close now. They said hot. That must mean me.)
writing a psychological thriller novel
all that glitters the novel by elizabeth anderson (Yep, one of our backlist books.)
love your neighbors wife (Chuckling here. A lot of people want this one.)
jim nabors on maui (I love him and I love Maui. Does that mean there’s a trip to Hawaii in my future?)
american flag bikini (I want one of those, too. I’ll have to tell the Count.)
slouch socks (That’s Beth. I swear it. No, really. I wear Manolo Blahniks.)
al zuckerman (Wouldn’t it be funny if he were Googling himself and got me? Oh, wait! Maybe he did..)
hot writer photos (Beth and I both love this one. It’s one of our favorites.)
can a narcissist love (Trust me. No. Ask any shrink.)
beth anderson synopsis bones
book synopsis example
campfire fun games for married couples (I have NO idea…but you could try The Joys of Sex on Amazon.com. Just leave the kids at Grandma’s.)
trouble with your boyfriend (Don’t we all.)
get right back up and try again lyrics
narcissist and compassion
gilda radner its always something
digging emeralds (That’s in our book, Second Generation.)
hot to write a synopsis (Clearly a demented person. Or one who makes typos. Either way, they came to the right place. 😉 )
i don t smoke cigarettes loveless lyrics
the mind of a child killer
gym bloomers (That’s Beth. I swear it!)
mattress yasmine (I know a Yasmine. Not sure about the mattress part, but I’ll ask her.)
clinton and beth anderson (I’ll definitely ask Beth about THAT!)
use of plot point of view & character in writing
girls and dogs doing hot sex (WTF????!)
making hot love to your wife (That’s a little more like it.)
toyboxes for little boys (Ah, yes, our playful senators.)
decorated dinosaur cookies (Blame that one on Beth, too. I don’t bake, although the guys all say I cook.)
beth hunt anderson
hot necked girls suddenly (Don’t leave us hangin’ like that! Finish the sentence, okay?)
sisters in crime
gym suit bloomers (Beth again. How come she’s getting all the hits on MY blog?)
how to make a camproll (Directions are on my tap dancing blog entry a couple of weeks ago. Go ahead, try it if you dare…)
beth anderson – taste (I’m not touching that one.)
listen to she s a bobblehead (I ALWAYS thought Beth was a Bobblehead. Evidently some reader agrees with me. Finally!)
moms bikini holiday (Sounds like somebody went on vacation. It wasn’t me, Beth won’t let me out of the house right now.)
inside the mind of a serial killer
beth s hot (We’ll both take this one.)
autographing breasts (This is from our book, Night Sounds, I think. Either that, or someone’s having weird thoughts about me. No indelible ink, please.)
beth anderson boeing (I’ve always thought so, if that was a typo and they meant boring.)
how to write synopsis in marketing synopsis
cant make you happy card (Try Victoria’s Secret, that’ll make him happy.)
romance novel publishing
benwah balls (From my first blog entry in February. The word got around, I guess.)
beth anderson nude (EEK! RUN!)
beth anderson mystery novels (That IS happenin’.)
miss universe lost virginity (I have no idea WHEN that happened! Maybe one of y’all can fill me in and I’ll blog about it.)
female point of view (I’ll give you mine anytime.)
beth nickels picture (Overpriced. Try one of mine.)
make a narcissist love you
how to write a limerick (We’ll do a future blog on that. Maybe have a contest.)
beth anderson novels
ben wah balls sizes
beth anderson s getting into the mind of a killer (And to prove it, she’s been married three times.)
narcissist ever fall love
beth anderson author
mission oriented cannibal serial killers (Isn’t THAT an interesting search question…)
how to get ben wah balls out (I woke up everyone in the house laughing at this one.)
writing a book synopsis
leave narcissist (Ya might as well while you’ve still got your own sanity left.)
write sending boyfriend 2006 (Does this mean somebody’s sending me a boyfriend this year if I write to them?)
remembering a mothers love
indianapolis nice suburb
giant size clue game (I don’t have a clue 😉 )
how to write a mystery
emails with grammatical errors
what are ben wah balls (Anyone seeing a pattern here? Who would think…)
spandex leotard straitjacket (Beth has threatened me with this.)
ben wah balls (Yep. There’s a definite pattern. Maybe this should be the prize for our limerick contest?)
classes of a serial killer motive lust sex (Well, that’s usually part of it.)
hot wife photos (Must’ve been looking for photos of me, right? Oh wait, I’m not married!)
i lost my virginity to a huge penis (I hate to tell y’all, but this is the one I laughed at hardest.)
my worst spanking (Interesting, the people you meet online…)
beth anderson author
digging for emeralds (This is in our book, Second Generation.)
hot necked girls suddenly (Is this the same one from above, I wonder? Or do we have two guys out there in love with hot necked girls? Or do they mean hot and nekked?)
beth anderson bare bones synopsis
2 girls and a guy erotica (Oh oh. Now we’re getting a little kinky…and it came here? Hmmm…)
anderson hot (My half is. The other half, forget it. 😉 )
how to deal with a narcissist (Incredible, how many people are interested in this.)
crimewriter mickey died last week (My condolences to his family. No, seriously. He was a wonderful writer and one of our reviewers compared us to him. That alone would make him wonderful, if he wasn’t already, which he was.)
first novel publish (Grammar lessons 1st. Novel published, 1,000th.)
beth glitters (She thinks she does, but that’s MY job.)
beth anderson writer
point of view and novel
crime scene pictures of the menendez brothers (Holy Josephine! Do they want videos?)
writing appetizing menus (That HAS to be one of my guests.)
you by beth anderson (Anybody besides me wondering what the missing first word is?)
yellow showgirl feathers (Her name was Lola…)
barry manilow (And Barry wrote it…)
writing a synopsis
blog and beth andersen (Wait a minute here! This is MY blog! MINE MINE MINE!)
money and help writing books chicago (We could all use some of that, right?)
back home again indiana jim nabors
sorority spanking (I have some of the most interesting people coming here, wouldn’t you agree?)
i ll take manhattan miniseries
superromance global warming (Are they saying Harlequin Superromances are contributing to global warming? Their publicity department would LOVE that!)
how can i make him love me (THIS will be next week’s blog. Stay tuned, or put me on your RSS or Atom or whatever feed.)
one sentence synopsis (How about, “I wrote a book.”)
just imagine-beth anderson (That’s what I say every single day.)
help i m in love with a narcissist
melissa sue anderson nude (Thank God that didn’t say BETH Anderson nude. Although you never know what you’ll find online…)
Okay, folks, I just decided. We WILL have a limerick contest sometime soon, and the prize WILL be ben-wah balls. Well, ya gotta keep your blog readers happy, right? My only quandry is, if I Google ben-wah balls and get my own blog, how will I ever find out where to get them?
Love to y’all, and please come back again often. I hope you have as much fun reading this blog as I do writing it.
The Hotclue, on a roll today.
July 19, 2006
Hotclue Does Dancing Lessons
Ohhh, I’m (Tap, tap, tap.) puttin’ on my top hat,
Tyin’ up my white tie,
Brushin’ off my tails. (Tap. Tap. Tap.)
I’m dudin’ up my shirt front,
Puttin’ in the shirt studs,
Polishin’ my nails. (Tap, tap.)
I’m steppin’ out, my dear,
To breathe an atmosphere
That simply reeks with class; (That’s ME!)
And I trust you’ll excuse my dust
When I step on the gas, (Which I do!)
For I’ll be there,
Puttin’ down my top hat,
Mussin’ up my white tie, (AND my hair!)
Dancin’ in my tails. (Tap! Tap!)
Okay, look, I know there’s a lot of terrible things going on in the world right now, but I just thought I’d bring a few minutes of fun into your life, then you can run right back to CNN, which I also will. But it doesn’t hurt to laugh just a little, right? When you hear what all happened to me during my dancing and singing lessons, you’ll laugh, I know you will.
Anyhow, I thought you’d like to see what I learned from the choreographer in New York last weekend. I know, I know, it’s all very basic, but man, you should SEE me in that cute little outfit with the top hat and tails, which, since it’s me, is only the top part with these little teeny black shorts and THEN, because I’m TRYING to be circumspect, black fishnet stockings. (The Count LOVES me in fishnet stockings, isn’t that CUTE?)
So here we go: Start by tapping your toe to the beat. Do this faster and faster. Eight, ten times should do it before the music starts. It tells the musicians when to start playing. Well of COURSE “musicians” is plural, the Count hired an entire ORCHESTRA for my lesson, isn’t that the SWEETEST thing?
Next, brush the ball of one foot forward and then back to shuffle. (Oh, first you have to learn what a shuffle is. Kinda hard to follow instructions to the beat of an orchestra when you don’t know what they ARE, right?) Somehow, I shuffled. Not well, but I shuffled. I think that’s called Wingin’ It.
Okay, now, step back on the ball of your right foot and step on your left to do the ball change. Now this one got kinda hard because I had an awful time trying to decide which was right and which was left, not to mention that I wondered about stepping with my right foot onto my left foot. I mean, that sounds awfully dangerous, doesn’t it?
All this is kinda like trying to play Blackjack in a big casino, they play so fast it’s hard to know what to do next and I always have trouble doing that knuckle rap thing when I’m playing Blackjack. I can’t TELL you how many times I’ve done that and hit when I was JUST trying to say “Don’t give me any cards, NONONO, NO MORE CARDS!” And then, just because THEY’re in a hurry, I lose.
It’s no wonder I always lose at Blackjack. You’d think they’d slow it down a LITTLE for a blonde, wouldn’t you?
THEN, brush forward with the ball of your foot and step on the ball for the flap. NOW I’m getting sorely frustrated. What the hell does THAT mean? Step on what ball? What flap? Here I am, looking around the dance studio for a damn ball with a FLAP and the bloody orchestra is playing along, completely IGNORING my plight…
OKAY, they slow down a little, FINALLY. Then (catch THIS!) I’m supposed to do a do a cramproll by jumping up and landing with my feet. What else would I land with? (Don’t ask.) Okay, the jumping part I got all figured out, it’s the landing part that stumps me because here’s what you’re supposed to do next: Land on the ball of your right foot, then the ball of your left foot, then your right heel and then your left heel.
Are they frickin’ KIDDING? There I am, that cursed band’s playing, flat out IGNORING me this time, they wouldn’t stop playing that bloody Fred Astaire music if you put them in front of a Haitian FIRING squad and pounded bamboo SPLINTERS in their nails! Yeah, they’re really grooving now, the hell with me. Count Babbalallapaloozo is doubled over, I can see him although he’s trying very hard not to in front of me, the sweet thing. He can’t seem to help himself, though, poor guy, it must be something he had for lunch. To add to all this, my choreographer, the sadistic twit, has fallen into a foaming faint, making it even HARDER for me to finish my damn camproll if I could even FIND one. WHAT is a CAMPROLL? Something you frickin’ COOK? With or without mustard? I’m lost. LOST, I tell you!
To make matters worse, next I’m supposed to step with my right foot and touch my left toe behind it for the step toe.
THAT was the final straw! Not only could I not find my right foot OR my left toe, by that time the Count was shaking so hard I was afraid he’d fall to the floor by the choreographer. Naturally, I had to rush to his aid.
THAT put an end to my first dancing lessons, and I didn’t even get to sing one song because somehow the sheet music I was going to use mysteriously disappeared. Sniff sniff. If I didn’t know better I’d think the entire orchestra AND the choreographer AND Count Babbalallapaloozo were laughing at me. But I know the Count wouldn’t laugh at me. He’s too thoughtful for that.
Love y’all, thanks so much for stopping by and listening to my hour of infamy. Come back again soon, ya hear me?
Hotclue Herself, waiting for the Count to come rub scented warm oil on her blistered toes.