the dancing queen

A few weeks ago, I went to see the luscious and utterly loveable Candye Kane perform at the Rhythm Room. Brian and I got there as they opened and found a perfect table made for three right up front to the right of the stage. We were so naive then - wind flowing through our hair as we marveled at how well we would be able to see the show and how we were convinced we had the best seats in the house. Just prior to the start of the show, which started late due to technical difficulties, Karla arrived. She coasted in with tendrils of her flaming hair fluttering behind her as she complimented us on our choice seats.

When they resolved the sound problem, Candye opened with a signature song epitomizing the power a big woman to "show you how to love." (If I were a songwriter, THAT's the kind of song I'd write, too.) Candye carried us into her world with that song, and we were poised for an evening of up close entertainment. At that moment, a combination of brown and gray and red and purple swished behind Karla and directly in the way of what had been my perfect view of the stage. It moved on and I resumed my Candye watching.

After the second song, the woman was swishing behind Karla again with her flutter of grayredpurple rayon dress and Crystal Gayle hair and walking back to join her friends. Not ten seconds later, when the third song began, swish, again. When the third song ended, back to her table. Fourth song, swishing back to the dance floor. That swishy-assed Crytal Gayle wannabe was putting on an extremely annoying show of her own. She would pretend to be headed for the bar, would look at some middle aged man, ask him to dance and then proceed to do a combination of swing dancing and Madonna's strike a pose Vogue. She'd perform (and I do mean perform) a series of steps followed some half assed attempt to look coyly away and down her side. It went on ALL NIGHT LONG.

It was like a combination of The Twilight Zone and a Crystal Gayle video. Maybe I should consider myself lucky for having been able to see two shows for the price of one.

Or maybe I shoulda just tripped her.

el bano

The ladies room (not "bathroom" as no bathing occurs there) located closest to my office is a strange place. First of all, half of the room is a void of wasted space. Nothing....it's not a large walkway, seating area, nothing....just empty space where something probably used to be.

The other half of this large cube of a room has a sink, one large trash receptacle, and three doors leading to the toilets. The one on the left is for the handicapped. It is a room within the ladies room. It is completely closed off - much like the bathroom at home. The other two doors lead to, well, I hesitate to use the word "stalls" because they are not traditional stalls with openings at the bottom and top. The traditional stall is sort of open in that sense. These two doors are doors with handles that, when closed, seal off the area. Mostly. There is a tall wall dividing the two toilets in this little room. When one person opens their door, the air pressure in the room changes and pulls on your door and creates a brief rush of air. It is a strange feeling being in an enclosed small room doing that with another person separated only by a partial wall.

Ew.