So I did dance my ass off...

...but then so did he....with other people.

Murphy's Law. A friend thinks I'm trying too hard. I think this blog is getting personal. I need to stop telling people about it. Okay fine, I told ONE person, but now that I want to say something I can't say it. And the current crush knows I am a blogger and wants to read. Of course he's gonna find it and be totally weirded out that I blogger about him then he is going to avoid me like the plague and then the annoying dude that irks me is going to fall madly in love and screw me over for life [because all the dudes here are like a posse].

So I notice on this blog I'm only ever depressed or talking about some dude. Lol. I promise I have much more fun things going on in my life, like getting kicked out of a friend’s apartment for talking about Nigeria too much. Strange world.

I just realized how much I enjoy dancing. I can dance all night and then some and dance all the way home while the sun comes up and get home and dance to a couple more songs before I get into bed and STILL be up at like 10am to be useful.

So Femi Kuti is not that cute. And he is kinda loud, but in a cute funny way. I suspect it will be annoying in like a month. Either that or I'll be out-of-my-head-hopelessly-devoted.

I should be reading about the triple constraint now and how each part of the constraint is not mutually exclusive even though each part is represented as orthogonal to the others on the graph.

And according to my Kolb Learning Style Inventory, I'm in the perfect field. Management of Technology.

So why would I, at this moment, much rather be home watching my husband eat and make me blush like a schoolgirl as he talks about how great the food is?

*hides from the bra-burning feminists*

lol. Yeah, I cooked for Femi Kuti [I’m gonna call I’m that from now on. You know, I actually kept calling him Femi to his face when he was over yesterday] and a couple other people over the weekend and they wont stop talking about it. And I feel all warm and fuzzy. I guess I really am a traditional woman on the inside. But only on the inside. Dare say some shit to me about how every woman wants to get married and those that don't "won tan ara won je" (they are fooling themselves) [yes, that was an actual Femi quote, and that was part of why I cussed him out.] and I will pour kerosene on you and wrap my burning bra around your head. Dare me not to.

In other news, I keep meeting hot Pakistani men. [Ha-ha...I’m sure you thought other news did not include men.]

I keep having nightmares. I'm having this recurring nightmare about a rape. The first time, I was watching a movie about it. The last night, I discovered the girl who was raped. I'm worried that the next time, she'll be me. And I knew that I should burn my Women’s Lib membership card when my first thought on waking up was "I wish I had a man asleep beside me so I would feel safer when I wake up from these nightmares". I think the Femi crush was born the next day. So much for independence and going to bed with a baseball bat. I really need to pray and consecrate my room because clearly, something is wrong. At least, thank God, I'm not scared of the dark here. Usually, when I move to a new place, I'm scared of the dark for the first few weeks and then I eventually settle in.

Lord, I am such a girl.

And I am so brutally honest on this blog. I might have to move yet again. I'll just have to tell the regulars where to find me.

Or I'll stick to being lazy with no site meter and pretend I only have 3 readers.