the dancing bear
I wanted to give a great big thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed my last post, “the bikini wax disaster.” It is an excerpt from a work in progress called “the penis factor,” a humorous study on the differences between men and women. I will share more from that later. Right now I’m busy trying to come up with something new and fresh for today’s post. I admit that I feel some degree of pressure after the great response I got from everyone on the last one. Pressure to entertain my small but growing fan base (how exciting it is for me to call you that!) Pressure to be witty…original…relevant… I feel sort of like a kid in a school talent show—standing up on a stage under a bright spotlight—trying to come up with a spectacular act on a moment’s notice. You know kids, we never plan ahead. We just jump in with both feet and hope things work out for the best. So I do my little tap dance…hum a few bars of my favorite song (the one I actually know most of the words to)…blow a familiar tune on a plastic horn and…wait for it…the grand flourish…the big finish…TAH DAH…followed by the sound of crickets chirping in the audience. It’s like a bad nightmare! Then I remember that I can actually sing. I’m even pretty good at it. I could definitely hold my own on a stage! I do it frequently, in fact. But the stage I’m on now is not a karaoke stage. No, it’s the stage of public opinion. So here I am…the dancing bear…performing solely for your entertainment. I hope you are having as much fun as I am!
So, I was going to write about how I tripped over something today and narrowly missed causing some catastrophe at the bank, or at home, or somewhere in between. Unfortunately, nothing bad happened to me today. I was actually hoping for some mild disaster that would be funny to write about. It was like all those times when I drove my car to the service garage to investigate a strange pinging in the engine or an unusual grinding in the brakes only to discover that the sound had disappeared as soon as I arrived to have it diagnosed. I actually managed to make it through the day relatively unscathed. I should probably worry that I find that somewhat disappointing.
I did have a rather interesting moment at lunch while eating sushi with a friend. I don’t know of many situations where it would be even remotely appropriate for another woman to request a taste of your “beaver roll.” At least not in public. I mean...really! You just don't hear that every day. I certainly don't. Then again, I don't think I've ever seen "beaver" on the menu before. I have to ask myself if that was what they expected when they created the menu. As if, some Japanese sushi chef was sitting in the back room giggling because he got another customer to order the “beaver roll” just for that reason. I probably would have ordered it anyway. It was really good. My friend liked it too! In fact, I took some back to work just so I could ask my coworkers if anyone wanted some of my “beaver roll.” As if it isn’t funny enough just working in a bank. Right…Next time I’ll bring back the “in and out roll” with the “beaver roll,” so I can see who wants the “in and out” with my “beaver roll.” (Seriously! Where do they get these names?)
Still, it wasn’t all laughs during lunch. While I was eating my “beaver” and “in and out” rolls with the utensils/weapons of choice—chopsticks—I had an epiphany. It was right about the same time one of my “beaver rolls” took its third and final dive into the soy sauce and I had to consider it a total loss. Nothing is good once it’s soaked up too much soy sauce. I decided right then that if I was forced to eat every meal, every day, with chopsticks that I would likely starve to death. Still, I did manage to eat enough at lunch to stave off the basic hunger, so upon further reflection I decided that maybe starvation was a bit extreme. I would, however, certainly lose weight if forced to eat everything using nothing but chopsticks as a utensil. Just the sheer time and effort involved in getting the food from plate to mouth was a workout. I felt like I’d lost a pound just struggling through lunch. So I decided to give myself a challenge. Eat every meal, every day, for one week with nothing but chopsticks. And no cheating! Even finger food must be eaten with chopsticks. Who would like to join me in that challenge? The chopstick diet? I think cereal might be out. Pistachios too. Ice cream might prove to be a bit difficult. I might just allow soup if you drink it from a cup because then it’s really just a beverage. More on that diet later!
So my conclusion is that hanging out in a sushi bar is really an educational experience. So far I’ve discovered a new source of comedy, a new diet, and it even inspired me to invent something new! Nipple armor. Don’t laugh! This is a serious matter. That sushi bar was really cold, and even though I was wearing three layers of clothing—a bra…a cami…and a blouse—I was still wearing several layers too few. I’m fairly certain the sushi chef had no complaints. And by the way…the man had very nice teeth. He was smiling widely enough for me to see all of them. Still, I could only imagine how many culinary disasters may have been averted had he been paying more attention to the shrimp rolls instead of monitoring my headlights. I would have eaten lunch in my coat if I wasn’t looking for material for the dancing bear post.
As most lunches do, it ended too soon. I had to go back to the office and turn up the space heater to full blast in my office to keep my automatic headlights from turning on throughout the rest of the day. It was almost like a game. Not my favorite game, mind you…but I kept it up all day just the same. Then I headed home to play Farmville, Café World and Petville on Facebook before turning my attention to the blog. I know…I know…it’s an addiction. I’m seeking help! I think I may just wean myself off the addictive apps and post more than one entry to my blog each evening. Any thoughts on that?
Until next time…I’ll keep on dancing!