I’m still futzing around with web cams. When Hal’s room gets
dull I cruise through the cams to find someone interesting. I did
find one guy and had a nice chat going when he told me I was gonna be privy
to a show. He was going shirt for shirt with some other girl on a
cam. Gees, I thought he was laughing at my clever repartee.
So I excused myself. How can talk compete with tits?
So to ease my gloom of rejection, I flipped on the stereo. Bob Seiger. Katmandu. I started to dance.
When I was younger I fancied myself a pretty good dancer. My mom on the other hand was hopeless. She’d hop up and dance this spastic weird jig that would humiliate me. The Mama Dance. Of course, my displeasure at her little dance would just cause her movements to be more profound. She didn’t care. She just moved to the beat her body heard.
Now that I am more mature and I don’t dance like I’m hoping to find someone to mate with, I have a tendency to long to do the Mama Dance. My arms want to do strange contortions. My legs want to kick at odd intervals. My knees want to bend and my shoulders feel like shimmying.
With Mr. Seiger screaming “if I ever get outta here”, I felt this was a great time to give in to the impulse. Doing my best impression of my mother and singing with full voice, I begin the Mama Dance. All the rejection of the web cam guy slips away and so does the stress. I’m dancing and singing with joy. Is this what my mother felt?
Then next day the web guy sent me a message when I signed on.
And the next day.
And the next day.
And the next day…
KATMANDO……………………….G’night everybody!