12-20-03

How lovely to hear oneself introduced as "the best bellydancer in Portland," even though it's hyperbole -- hyperbole? hang on, make sure I'm using that correctly . . . "extravagant exaggeration," yep. Whatever, it was nice.

No rotten vegetables were thrown. I stayed on beat with the zills. No peekaboo boobs. The wig stayed on. I looked fabulous; exotic, mysterious, sensual. No members of the band or the audience were harmed. *grin* Many compliments (which makes me wonder about the calibre of bellydancers that people do see) and questions about my dance experience, how long I'd been doing it, and did I have a regular gig.

Makes me think that maybe I could actually get paid to dance. I'd rather get paid to bellydance than sit at a cash register somewhere, muscles atrophying and ass spreading.

Hmmmm.

I may be dancing with the same band on New Year's -- that'd be a hoot. I'm covered, it's either me and the girls or bellydancing. That's pretty cool. *laugh*

Best of all there were no strange men telling me their most outre sexual experiences.

A good night.

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