Superspy I see!
It’s the Friday before the 4th of July weekend and I suspect that it’ll be quiet in the office.I’ve recently become addicted to the TV show, “Alias.” My good friend, Cuckoo, let me borrow seasons 1 and 2 and lately my ritual is to watch an episode every evening before bed. Why is this a bad idea? The show is very heart stopping and sweat inducing. After a really cool fight scene, (last night's episode had Sydney Bristow kick some guy’s ass while wearing only wedge shoes and a bikini) I like to pause the DVD and then run around the house pretending I’m a double agent spy while beating up the furniture. This counteracts the chamomile tea I drink in the effort to tranquilize myself before I go to bed. I am left wide awake and paranoid about people bugging my phone or following me.
Tonight’s mission: dancing for the first time in a really long time with my homie at work, The Black Assassin. We’re going to some place where there’s really cheap cover and no dress code, which is exactly like the dives I used frequent before I took on my role as girlfriend-to-the-antisocial-boyfriend. This mission is a simple one: dance like a fool to every song in order to maximize cardiovascular effort (both The Black Assassin and yours truly are feeling fat these days). There are certain songs that I refuse to dance to out of principle. I have boycotted: Getting Jiggy With It, Baby Got Back, and California Love. For some reason, all of the rhythmless people in the room go buck wild whenever any of these tunes are played, and inevitably, somebody sans rhythm will get in my business because their arms will be flailing in the air and/or their butt will have a mind of it’s own and knock me over.
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