Something's Wrong With Me

You know that something's wrong with you when the first thing that comes to your mind after seeing a scrumptious meal is the resemblance of that meal to a sinusoidal wave. I think there may be indeed something wrong with me. Haha.

A Possible Sideline

Today, I became a D.I. (Dance Instructor)

Before I elaborate on this opening statement, let me first give a background on what happened this evening.

I went to a friend's debut and was stupid enough to forget my coat back home. (Note to self: Next time, READ the invitation.) Good thing I went early and still had time to get my coat.

For the debut, I was tasked to be the partner of the debutante. Naks! What's more is that we (the debutante and I) only recently met through a common friend. She needed more men for her cotillion and since I'm biologically a man, then I fit the qualification...right? :)

We danced the Viennese waltz with the help of a professional dancer. The performance was quite okay, although the previous practices were much better in my opinion.

Fast forward to open floor time where the older generation together with hired DIs were dancing ballroom. I wanted to join in the fun and so I decided to pull the debutante and dance the chacha. Apparently, it's not her thing and so she left me hanging there.... alone....until...her mom decided to try and dance with me! And so I danced the chacha with the debutante's mom instead haha. Well, she already knew that I was enthuasiastic in dancing so no wonder.

Soon enough, I found myself dancing the swing with my friend's mom. Sadly, I'm haven't taken proper lessons with the dance (unlike the mom) and so I think she got bored with me haha.

And so I became a DI for a short period of time. Thankfully I did not make a fool of myself in front the crowd and even got a few praises (goodjob!). This is the first time I've danced in front of strangers without really being mindful of how I danced. Just felt the music and moved my booty to it haha. It's so liberating and fun!

If only I could take dance lessons instead of being bombarded with derivatives, equilibrium constants and moments of inertia.

New Haircut

I just had a haircut a while ago. Although I'm very appreciative that my mom paid for my cut, I would appreciate it more if she'd stop insisting on me copying the hair of someone else. Here's what happened:

Me: *prepares photos of the hairstyle he wants, prints them out and shows the hairstylist*
Kaya ba kung Faux Hawk?
Hairstylist: Sure. Kaya yan.
Mom: Wag yan. Yung kay Richard Poon!! *snatches the printout*
Me: Yung Faux Hawk na lang. *snatches the printout back*
Mom: Yung kay Richard Poon na lang. *snatches the printout again*
Me: ...

It's a good thing the hairstylist followed my request. Yes mumsie, I get it that I may look like Richard Poon. And I know you're a fan. Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against Mr. Poon. It's just that I would like to look a bit different. Maybe someone like...

(or at least the hair for that matter..)