With much anticipation I went to my Saalllssa y Tango . . .Cardio! Class this morning but to my surprise my girl Wiggy Terri was not teaching. Apparently she shares teaching responsibility with another teacher named . . . Antonio Banderas; at least that's what he probably calls himself in the mirror. This guy was so hilariously a Lateen Luber stereotype that I was chuckling when he walked in. But not the other girls. Oh no. I then realized that the crowd was a tad different than when Terri teaches; more women in their 40's with full make up on. I was like, OH COME ON!
Antonio was wearing tight-ass black dance pants -- very similar to my own, but 2 sizes smaller. When he took off his fleece pullover, his yellow undershirt was an XS and reveled his chiseled manly physique, plus hair on his shoulders, but that made him more likeable somehow. When I say manly, I mean in a small-man way. He could not've been taller than 5'3". But he was flashing the pearly caps and working the set curls and raising his eyebrows -- at least one anyway -- and twirling his hands and hips in mad flamenco style. I nearly yelled OLE! many times, but these ladies would not have tolerated me outwardly bagging on Mr. Banderas. It might've been a mob scene and I'm not trying to get a reputation as The Hater in my new class.
The choreography was corny cliche latin, and Antonio was not the best of teachers. We did shimmies (I like) and then the Pony . . . yes, that Pony; the hopping around Pony which seems like an oximoron in the middle of a latin dance, but Antonio loved the move. I nearly crazy glued my eyeballs still for fear of uncontrollable rolling.
Usually a crowd gathers around these dance classes to check out the hot shaking action, but today when I looked over at the windows of the class, I could see the some of the boxing class mimicking our moves. I was like, Fuck, it does look how I think it looks. I think I heard one of them yell OLE!
But I sweated and moved and got to listen to Shakira for an hour. And I was highly entertained by Mr. Dance Pantalones Banderas.
I love my husband because he’s kind of a dick. But he’s soft with me and his lip quivered at our wedding. I love my daughters. They’re brilliant and funny, and I’m here to kick down mountains that get in their way. I’m a vegan, and all is right in my world because of it. I can still beat the neighborhood in HORSE because I have a bad-ass set shot. Justice is served well through fair food, and scarcity would be a myth if we shared more, damn. Yo soy una mezcla which leaves me mixed up sometimes. My commute bike’s name is Loops and she’s my favorite kind of car. I wish I had written Chronicle of a Death Foretold. I’ve endured 54 hours of tattoo work. But above all, I fiercely believe in the underdog.
"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!" - Kerouac (As told to me by Marigoldie)