Saucy Salsa

Aren't I such a hooray-henry? I've found something to write about that won't bore the pants off of people who aren't particularly into my irreverent Iron Chefs match reports. Since the lack of particularly constructive suggestions (other than the penile extender man) in light of my previous post, I've again had to resort to tales from the romantic novel that is my relationship with a certain young Goddess.

This posting is almost a throwback to the days of yore; during my Chilean sojourn many of you may remember my somewhat failed bid to become the next big thing in Latin music, taking a number of Salsa dance lessons. Since my return to land of the long brown wasteland, my endeavors into the world of dance have been restricted to a brief fling with El Capitan and a pirouette with Bucky that saw his Pale Ale spiral through the air at Supermild (I am reliably informed that this instance of ultimate gayness has gone down in Supermild folklore).

Prior to meeting me (the greatest day of her life), the young Goddess was an avid dancer and she was I feel a little dissapointed to discover I had 2 left feet. Our early relationship was punctuated by instances of me propositioning the young lass with pleas to let me dance with her, however all too often I was scorned by a sharp turn of tongue. Whether it is my new found latin charm or some other admirable trait, the Goddess has recently become much more receptive to the idea of dancing with me and on Monday we attended our first Salsa dance class.

The Monday night 'drop in' salsa dance classes at The Gov' are as way of an introduction to the complete novice and I was quite suprised to realise the level of interest when the class started with close to 50 people (80% of which are incidentally female). This one guy, Julio, runs the gig and all us whiteys stand in lines learning the basic steps in a fashion that I thought made us look more like yee-haaing, toe- tapping line dancers. Finally, you get to throw it all together and the gals have to grab a lad (or dance with another gal), the Goddess (after some prompting) grabbed me which may not sound all that suprising when one considers that the other lads hadn't got 5 months first hand latin experience under their belts. So you can imagine, I was quite the happy camper having a bit of a dance, but wouldn't you know it something had to spoil it.

You see, the literal translation of "Salsa" from Español to English is "Sauce", and indeed the salsa is a bit of a saucy dance. SO you can imagine my dismay just when I was getting into my groove, when Julio shouts out that we have to change partners. This went on for the remainder of the evening: I danced with women old enough to be my great grandmother, 1 girl who couldn't stop giggling and a rather large lass whom I daren't hold in the small of her back for fear of losing my hand, if you follow my drift. Alas I wasn't to dance with the Goddess again that night, but trying to look on the bright side of life I didn't have to dance with any sweaty old geezers either, so it wasn't too reminiscent of Chile then.

For the record I didn't have it as bad as the Goddess, amongst others she danced with Mr "Smelly breath 2005"