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Wednesday 13 February 2013

DANCING KING...AND QUEEN


The King has discovered the power of dance. Or shall I say, the sheer manic joy of careening around the room like someone with his pants on fire. My husband says he has definitely inherited this from me; if you’ve ever seen me on the dance floor, you’d know I have very few inhibitions or self control – kind of a like a three year old really. I am admittedly the least shy person when it comes to getting my freak on...next to the King of course.

As an observer and a fellow lover of dance, I fully appreciate watching the King work out all his moves with not a self conscious bone in his body – if only we could all remain this way, as I truly believe dance is up there with massage in terms of its therapeutic properties. At the moment, I’ve deemed the King’s style as 'interpretive' dance in the most expansive use of the word. He twirls, he jumps, he falls down on the ground and growls like a lion, he pushes on his stomach as if he has buttons like some sort of robot (have no clue where this came from) and he often uses props such as cars, trucks or tractors. (But of course). It’s pretty hysterical to watch him work it all out as he goes along. His signature move involves my yoga mat, which he rolls out in the middle of the song, and does some sort of downward dog gyrating move that involves his legs moving up and down. The King is nothing but unique.

He also tries to incorporate me into his dance routines, which means me having to spin around and around in circles with him while Beyoncé sings the house down (on the radio of course. Having her in person is beyond our budget). I of course do my best to accommodate his wishes until I remember that I have a bad back and am easily prone to vertigo, which means in a matter of minutes, I’m clutching onto a chair thinking I’m going to vomit and will have to call the chiropractor. Not to mention, the King usually likes to break into dance in the evening – I’m sensing he’s feeling his groove when the sun goes down – which means by then I’m so dead on my feet, that I simply sway along hoping he won’t notice that my eyes are closed.

Then again, when the mood strikes me, and the right song comes on, I’m perfectly able to put aside my fatigue and unleash my inner lunatic. This is usually the moment my husband gets home from work, looks at the King and I and shakes his head (probably) thinking to himself, ‘dear god, not another person to embarrass me at parties.’ I of course tell him to check his ego at the door and shake his moneymaker, we’ve got some dancing to do. 

HAPPY HUMP DAY.




Monday 11 February 2013

MY FAKE BOYFRIEND IS BETTER THAN YOURS


With Valentines Day breathing down our proverbial necks, a recent article caught my eye in regards to the societal and cultural pressure to be married/in love, or taken (and I don’t mean in way of a kidnapping).  I’m always amazed by this, especially as once you are married, you often look at single people and think - damn you have it made! (I kid, I kid) - not only do they get to sleep a hell of a lot more than us married folks with kids, but they’re certainly not arguing over the mundane and pointless, like who is going to take out the trash.

But I digress…

Apparently in China, the celebration of the Chinese New Year is a very big deal, I'm thinking it's on par with us Western folks Christmas celebrations. The entire country shuts down, fireworks adorn the sky and families come together across the continent ( you know, to fight, eat too much and rue the day they thought it was a good idea to get Uncle Li and Aunt Cho in the same room). The focal point of the holiday is around a dinner where the entire family assembles. And apparently if you’re single the pressure becomes far too immense for most Chinese youth to bear, especially if you are staring at 30 and are still single. From the sounds of things in the article, you may as well find a pasture to retire in, cause you’re as good as dead.

Hence, due to this societal pressure to have someone to bring home for the holidays, a spate of websites where one can 'rent a boyfriend' for as little as fifty bucks a day have sprung up (for 50 bucks I’d rather have a housekeeper, but hey that’s me). There is a range of services offered, from a kiss on the cheek – to make it look convincing - attending a family diner, or even spending the night at the family’s domicile, on the couch of course. Sex is strictly forbidden on these sites - and I'm thinking as it's communist China this is not a rule one should try to break. The majority of the sites are usually geared towards women finding fake boyfriends, cause you know, a woman without a husband is utterly useless (are you also hearing U2 sing in your head… ‘a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle,’ or is that just me?), but often gay men hire fake girlfriends if they haven’t come out to their families yet. I’m sensing a lot of duplicitous behavior in the country of China.

Trust obviously is an issue for women that use sites of this nature, which is ironic, as it’s all predicated on a lie. Ah the irony of life. But some men say that they although they will receive a lot of 'hits' on the site, it takes a lot for the women to trust them to bring them into their families home. Gee, you think? I’m wondering if all these parents that are so thrilled their children have boyfriends would actually prefer a single child to the alternative of having a hired stranger in their house asking them to pass the rice. Then again, perhaps the illusion is more palatable than the truth.

For some candidates that go to work for the site, as well as patrons, they hope that a potential fake arrangement could perhaps turn into the real thing. Because beginning any relationship on the basis of lies and monetary exchange is a damn fine foundation. Then again, I’m jaded; I suppose they would have as good of odds of making it as the rest of us. 

Happy New Year all, (especially the stranger rifling through my Aunt Chan's purse).


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