Until yesterday -- when she whisked me and my friends Donna and Carrie back to the 70s, where everyone had Disco - and John Travolta - fever.
Oh. My. Gosh.
No wonder Olivia Newton John looked so freaking good in Grease. There is nothing easy about Disco.
I assumed Dance Quickie would be less intense than my other J'Adore classes. Compared to my 75-minute Salsa Burn torture with
Not. Even. Close.
Donna and Carrie joined me in the back row, where after a vigorous - and I do mean, vigorous - Disco routine, LIESA probably should have brought out the mop bucket to soak up all of that sweat. And boy, did we sweat.
We also laughed. A lot.
And, I'm so freaking proud of my friends. Neither Carrie nor Donna would claim to be dancers, but they both rose to the challenge, and truthfully, they totally rocked it. So hard, in fact, Carrie almost knocked me out with those elbow turns. She has a bad knee - but that didn't stop her from grooving it to the music. (Admit it, girl, you LOVED it.)
But Donna? My amazing crit partner blew. my. mind. When I met Donna, she had tremendous raw writing talent, but lacked some of the technical craft to help her best tell the amazing story she'd been dreaming about for as long as she could remember. Less than a year later, THOEBA is complete and her skills have skyrocketed. I'm talking mad writing skillz, my friends. I've often marveled at her sponge-like mind and how it absorbs everything you throw at her.
Apparently, this applies to Disco, as well.
Impressed, Donna. Seriously impressed. And tremendously proud. While I dragged my sorry disco-butt off the floor, she signed up for more of LIESA's classes. (Sucker!)
Honestly, I feared facing KASHA after that. The eternally perky Salsa Queen has earned more than a few of my curses over the weeks, and last night was no exception. Oh, how I wanted to whine that I'd already "danced" for 45 minutes. And oh how I wanted to beg her to go easy on me...
I kept my mouth shut instead - well, mostly. There was this push-up triangle routine that gave me a sudden flush of tourette syndrome...and some squat-like things that had me and Jamie plotting KASHA's demise... But overall, I pushed through.
Though admittedly, with less energy than KASHA usually draws out of me. Sorry hon, but LIESA beat you to me...
It's a wonder I made it through Bollywood after that.
I even considered bowing out seconds before class started. But then LUKE turned on some funky Indian drum beat with the promise of a new routine and I was compelled to stay.
I'm still having trouble with the first routine, but just when I thought I'd never get it, LUKE drops this little gem: He's Italian.
And I was like: Hey, wait a darned-tooting minute here, I'm Italian, too!
Sure he's got crazy dance moves (no, really), but it's not as though Bollywood is part of his original culture - believe me, I'd know. So, to make it look as smooth as he does, LUKE has to, uh, practice. He studies the steps, the emotions and expressions, the music...
This is a good sign.
If I don't pass out or succumb to LIESA and KASHA's torture, I *might* have a shot at figuring this Bollywood stuff out. Or at least, looking less like a moron.
I've already begun studying the music. I haven't really had a choice. Last weekend I moved my Oscar fish into my newly-organized basement office where apparently they repond to music. They wiggled their way through the tank to Audioslave, danced a little to Adam Lambert, but when I plugged in the Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack...those fish were swimming it up Bollywood style.
If only they could help me with those head bobs.
The Book In My Bag Today: Another One Bites the Dust, Jennifer Rardin