Ballet Class: 03/04/08

5 03 2008

Well, it seems again after the fact I once again wonder what the hell I was thinking.
I took “beginner ballet” in the fall and after spending more on tights/leotard/slippers then I did for the class ($60/$40, respectively) I figured I should get my money’s worth by signing up for beginner again in the spring session.
A-ha-ha-ha-haha.
Okay, so the first class I copped out of to watch the hockey game.  Second class was canceled due to some event at the school.  Third class was canceled due to the “weather”.  Yesterday there were three of us.
Including that woman I almost punched last semester.  Oh, wait, that’s not very ballet-lady-like.  I almost grand battemantted her in the face.
She shows up about a minute after I do and after the advanced class finishes their exercise, the teacher asks me (being me, not GBDW) how the weather is.  I state that it’s raining and a bit slippery.
GBDW chimes in that IS slippery out and that she [teacher] should be VERY careful.
We exchange glares.
Rewinding a bit to December.  Our teacher held a Holiday/End-of-Semester Party at her home.  I bought my camera along and took some photos.  I am not good at operating my camera, so a number of pictures came out blurry.  And then my computer decided it didn’t like reading the memory card.
So finally, last week, I was able to distract Steve long enough to use his computer to get about 200 pictures off the camera.  Due to an overwhelming bout of laziness, yesterday I uploaded some pictures to snapfish, but by then,  I had to get to class (despite checking every 10 minutes to see if the school was closed).
The grand-battemant-deserving-woman corners me right away and is all, “So where are the pictures?!” and I’m telling her that I’m getting them developed.  And she looks at me like I’m lying (which I’m really not…) and she snootilty responds, “Well, I am going to keep bugging you for them.” I coyly respond, “Knock yourself out.”   She walks away, trying to look like a real dancer and not someone who is taking ballet in a high school gym.
ANYWAY, for some reason, she feels the need to tell me about my technique.  Which I totally wouldn’t mind if she a) knew what she was doing b) wasn’t such a hag about it.  For example, we’re doing chaines (turns) and GMDW takes me aside in a very trying-to-be-coy-but-I-want-everyone-to-see-that-you’re-a-clumsy-dumbass-who-shouldn’t-be-here way and says, “You should be more pronounced with your opening [of your arms].”  She may be opening her arms, but her shoulders are up and her elbows are down.
Admitently, I am uncoordianted.  The fact that I have not spontaniously combusted or accidently injured anyone (“Hamburg Woman Kills Three in Tragic Character Dance Accident”) is a miracle in itself.
That being said, GBDW would turn around and give me dirty looks whenever the teacher would stop and correct me.
Because, you know, GBDW is perfect.
She’s such a fake.  Trying to get on the teacher’s good side.  This teacher doesn’t remember conversations from three minutes ago, yet GBDW thinks that she’s going to remember just who was concerned about her well being.  “But how are you getting home!?” she asks, voice cracking with concern.
Bitch.

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