I was recently informed that during childhood I met Karl Lagerfeld. My suppressed memory of the anomalous white-haired man flooded back instantly. At the time, I didn't know who he was. I still know very little about him except that he reminds me of the Count of Saint Germain, rumored to have lived for over 350 years. Karl is clearly a vampire. Immortal he may be, but a celebrity who can�t bellydance is no hero of mine.
I�m performing next month already. My instructor advised me to commit to bellydance for life, and even called me �a natural.� If she keeps this up, I won�t be able to fit my ego through the door.
If that happens, you can call me a Viking. When people annoy me, I call them Vikings. I don�t think anyone else does that, but they should. Vikings are nuts. Bloody Vikings.
In other deep and meaningful news, I think I�ll get a couple thin dreads. Nothing psychotic, just some subtle additions here and there to keep life interesting. Plus, I can slap my dance mates with them when I whirl around. They like it.
5:06 p.m. - 2009-03-03