ORDER IN THE JUNGLE

OK, I really wanted to keep this blog completely low-speed, as in no video, photos, music or things flying around. But, ah, I HEART my new closet.

My mortal consort was not anywhere near prepared to co-habitate with someone whose lineage originates in the land once lorded over by the original Queen High Goddess of Shoes: Imelda Marcos. I mean, come on! She and her husband may have completely corrupted that poor island nation, but you have to give the former first lady snaps for her killer shoe collection. I can only dream of having such a collection, but I'm doing pretty well with what I have right now.

Being a tango dancer doesn't help with the shoe addiction. In fact, it enables it! I've been pretty good, though. I haven't bought a pair of dance shoes in about 7 months, the last pair bought especially to match my new year's outfit (and then, hell, why not buy another for good measure? I ended up with two). To date, I have 12
pairs of dance shoes, but that includes 5 pairs I can't really wear because they're uncomfortable. So, really, I've got 7, including 1 pair of flat, black jazz shoes I used in my theater days that I wear once in a while when I'm feeling especially slummy. These are just my dance shoes.

Now, imagine Argentine closets trying to hold all this. Got the picture in your mind?

Add my f**k me heels, hootchie-heeled sandals, flipflops, sneaks, boots, flats, and 1
pair of sensible, black, job-interview shoes.

Finally, add clothes. I'm not talking about what tourists bring for a few weeks. I'm talking about the wardrobe of a clothing aficionada, a bargain hunter with crazy fashion sense, multiple personality disorder, and a credit card.

It was pretty scary.

I started claiming some of my BF's closet space to make room for my classy winter overcoats. I was desperate.

So, I did what any woman would do: I got more closet space! (OK, yes, I did some purging, too.) Here is a picture of the new shoe department in my closet. Don't your shoes rate their own department? So pretty...oh, so pretty. I love it! And I've got some empty cases just waiting to be filled...

THE ECONOMY AND THE MILONGA

I found this wonderful article today from the website inthefray.org. Their tag line is "see the world through different Is". Just love it!

Here's the link: http://inthefray.org/content/view/2805/27/

Enjoy!

THOSE SNEAKY THINGS GUYS DO, AND HOW TO PUT THEM ON ICE

Animal Planet or Discovery Planet is always on during some point of the day, usually when the BF is home. A few nights ago, we caught a British guy's report on bats. One particular bat species goes into deep freeze--literally--during the winter with ears up and bat wings wrapped around them like a mini sleeping bag.

Every once in a while, these little suckers need to wake up and feed to get the blood going, and, wouldn't you know, the male bat takes the opportunity to get his little bat rocks off with some girl bat taking her winter snooze! Animal Planet generously filmed the romantic moment in infrared, such that the male, all hot at bothered, appeared red, and the female, half-asleep during the (read: his) passionate love making, still glowed mostly blue, except, of course, you know...

What does this have to do with tango? Not much, except that some milongueros can be as sneaky when trying to wheedle a dance out of you. If you're too nice, you may end up with a tango never even wanted.

I thought about the fate of the female bat during Lujos this past Sunday at Plaza Bohemia (444 Maipu). A milonguero I hadn't danced with in about a year or two used the break between songs during a tanda to invite me to dance. I had been away for three weeks, so he broke away from his dance partner to give me the perfunctory kiss. Then he said, "OK, I'll look at you for the next dance," to which I smiled and nodded. All the while his partner stood aside smiling. It's sorta cheesy that he's shopping around before the tanda has even ended, and I commend the partner for being so gracious as he acted like a heel.

Other guys have come up to my table to "chat" with me for a few minutes, then snuck in their invitation. The guy has me right there. He's been friendly, courteous, interested in what I have to say, what I've been doing, so how could I possibly refuse to dance with such a nice guy? I admit to having taken the bait more than a couple of times.

Did I really want to dance with these guys? Not really, so I guess you could have called my spins around the floor with them a "charity tanda". How could I have just let them schmooze dances out of me? The truth? I didn't want them to be mad at me, and I didn't want to be a bitch. Whaa, whaa, whaa! What a sorry excuse! Do you think any Argentine woman would have put up with that?

The problem here is Toxic Niceness. Elizabeth Hilts, author of Getting In Touch With Your Inner Bitch, asks three questions to test your level of toxicity:

1) Have you ever said "yes" when you meant "no"? (Um, yes.)
2) Have you ever wanted to give someone a piece of your mind and eaten a piece of cake instead (or even the whole cake)? (That would be another "yes", as I wipe the chocolate frosting from the side of my mouth.)
3) Have you ever apologized when it wasn't your fault? (Guilty.)

Jungle Sisters, I am a cesspool of niceness.

Hilt proposes tapping into one's Inner Bitch, "that integral, powerful part of [every woman] that is going unrecognized," the one who can smile as she's giving her firm "I don't think so" to any milonguero without feeling like a bad person. These guys may grumble, but the poor mortal milongueros will just have to learn to live with life's disappointments.

Let's summon our Inner Bitch Goddesses to make the milonga a more pleasant and guiltfree place to be.