life, the universe, and donna

Everybody remember the magic red hoodie? Sure you do. It’s, you know, that thing I’m always wearing. I love my red hoodie.

My red hoodie is about 2 years old. I wear it almost every day, unless someone has poured beer on it. Love the red hoodie. In the summer, it’s the “jacket” I wear at night when it cools down a bit. The rest of the year, I wear it almost religiously as a long sleeved shirt over whatever other shirt I might be wearing. Or as a lining to a heavier jacket. Or whatever.

Basically, it’s a near constant companion.

So, I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s getting worn. There’s some definite wear & tear on the seam at the cuff of the left sleeve, and it’s even worse on the right one. Some of the stitching is coming out.

It’s time for a new hoodie.

I’m not exactly sure how to go about finding a new one. This one was easy, surprisingly enough. A $40 hoodie from Sears, made by Columbia. Of course, this is the “fashion” from two years ago, so surely it won’t be made anymore. Bastards. I could try a similar attempt, however.

Or, I could make one, although I think a hand knit hoodie would be too heavy.

Oh well. Maybe I’ll hit sears at lunch today and see if they have any nice hoodies. Love my hoodie. Love it. Am sad that it is slowly disintegrating.

In other news, I’m really not a good dancer. 99% of the time, this doesn’t bother me at all: The idea is to have a good time, who gives a shit how it looks to other people? If I fool around and do a couple of swing dance steps to amuse myself, or whatever… this is fine. I have a huge pet peeve when people try to tell me how to dance, because what the hell? I’m having a good time, what does it matter how it looks to other people? (I get a lot more cranky about it than the situation warrants, really. But there it is.)

So, dancing in the middle of a crowd? Totally doesn’t bother me that I look silly, because it doesn’t matter. But! I have the opportunity to be a dancing-in-a-cage girl at the next Cirque de Sade. Honestly, I could use the money. But am I willing to humiliate myself publically? It’s one thing to dance silly in the middle of a crowd. It’s another to be a focal point specifically there for people to watch.

I’m pretty tempted to do it anyway. With my purple PVC dress… well, I don’t think anybody is going to really care that I look foolish. The dress is hot. And hey, I’ll be locked in a cage, it’s not like I have a lot of room to flail about embarassingly. I imagine I could just sit there and wiggle and do pretty well. Mmm, sexy dress. Better yet, I could wear a carnival mask and a wig and pretend I’m somebody else. Hey, hiding behind a mask rocks. “No, that’s not Donna… that’s some OTHER girl in the purple PVC dress & purple wig that Donna loves to wear.” Hee.

Also, very little actually embarasses me these days. So, maybe it wouldn’t even be the humiliating experience I’m anticipating.

Next question: Think I can dance continuously for … what, six hours? Heck, I don’t even remember the hours that it runs. 9-1 or 9-3, I would guess. Quite a work out.

Realized yesterday that I’m not going to be able to go to the next Vancouver Dungeon (look, Yvonne, I’m not calling it BIO!) I’m disappointed, but really, I’ll be in some other country on vacation, so something tells me I’ll get over it. Still, it’ll be the first Vancouver Dungeon play party that I’ll have missed in well over a year. (I was going to shorten it to VD Play Party, but … um … yeah, that’s not a good abbreviation.) I love these parties, and I love helping out at them… but while I’m sitting on some tropical beach with a heavily alcoholic, frosty drink in one hand, and some shiny boy in the other… I know I’ll be thinking about the rest of the crew moving heavy equipment in the rain. Muahahaha, suckers.