A Pound Of Flesh

Fong…I will fong you! Your entrails will become your extrails. Pain…!

-A Knight’s Tail

Glah. That’s the official word for today I think. I did wind up going to the Lion Dance yesterday despite my overwhelming desire to go right the hell home and hole up all snug from the snow on my BIRTHDAY. I was so hoping that the place holding the lion dance would have some sense and shut down so that they weren’t endangering their patrons but alas, it was not to be. I braved the damned nasty cold slushy mess and did my Lion Dance duty. I rock, y’all. No I do. Not only did I come in to work in the damned nasty slidey treacherous weather (which, BTW no INCLIMATE WEATHER DAY was forth coming from. Bastards) BUT I trudged myself to the dojo for the Lion Dance.

I also trudged a hole in my ankle. Damned boots. I have bleedy all over my socks where the heel thing of the boot ate my skin. Grrrr. The worst part was that after we got out of the stupid county the roads were right as rain. I don’t know what it is about my lovely county but they seem to do snow removal on the prayer method. I kid you not, there was a noticeable demarcation practically to the inch of the county line. One minute we were fishtailing around in four inch slippery slush and then when we passed the county sign the road was scraped to the black, salted and full of lovely safe traction. My county can bite me. BASTARDS! It’s called salt and a plow truck, look it up. Oh ho…environmentally friendly are you? THEN GET THEE SOME DAMNED ASS SAND AND A FUCKING PLOW TRUCK! Oh I could go on about the incompetence of our snow removal crew.

So yeah, county ability to deal with snow aside, it was a pretty cool performance. We landed at a public library and did a tooling of the lion parade style through the adult section and the children’s section for about ten minutes and then did a scenario. I got to do the giant rain gong (wind gong? I can never remember) for the grand giant wind/rain gong 16 beat solo. Whooo. I’ll also add that I rock the gong, y’all. I was ALL over those 16 notes like bears on honey. BAM! Later on I joined in on a gong-centric part because one of the younger lion dancers who was on gong had never done the whole gong echo thing (oh yeah, the rain/wind gong ONLY plays for those 16 notes so it’s not ordinarily doing the gong thing during the big gong thing…well that isn’t its big gong thing. Got it? Grand! Moving on). I am such the nice big sister I am, playing the giant weather gong (like that? I don’t have to decide what kind of weather with that name) with the new kid so he’s got someone who knows the part to play with. I totally rock with the helping and making the younger dancers feel a bit more comfortable.

ANYWAY, one of the jobs a senior (me) has is to make sure the juniors aren’t screwing up. I noticed that the new gong guy was whacking the gong on the outer rim up by the handle which, if you have had ANY orchestra training at all you would know, is NOT the proper way to hit a gong. I know I’ve sat through many an “instruction” during band/orchestra where the conductor has illuminated the percussion crew on the proper way to hit a gong. Usually this comes about during the 1812 but other tunes have some gong type action too. You hit the thing with a circular motion somewheres slightly off from off center. I’m not to sure on exactly where, but I tend to play it about a mallet head’s width low from center. It has worked for me for five and a half years with no complaint. So I tell junior that he hasn’t got the best form on gong and that he will want to be hitting it slightly lower than center.

Junior, and junior’s little junior buddies PROMPTLY inform me that I was dead wrong. Junior was taught to play gong (wrongly) the way he was playing it. End of discussion. Add the unspoken caveat that basically I should just shut the hell up because I don’t know what the fuck I was talking about. Little shits. I asked them who had taught them (wrongly) to play the gong that way (which they never answered come to think on it) and they were all over me about how THEY knew what they were doing blah blah blah. Fucking little punk ass shit bags.

MAN that just steams me. I’ve been at this eight years, dancing for more than half of that time and I get ‘tude from some one year who’s got a better method. Here’s the icing though; during the debriefing Chris told new gong that he was playing too high up and needed to play slightly lower than center and with circular motions to the mallet. Hmmm, where have I heard that before? Let’s see…could it be that I SAID THE EXACT DAMN THING not an hour beforehand? AARGH! I was irritated to the bone. The whole KFu thing sometimes just gets me so irritated I want to start hitting things (or in junior’s and junior’s cronies case, people). Yeah, that’s not good Budo BUT it’s so irritating to tell someone something and have them ignore it until someone “more worth their respect” tells them to do exactly what I’ve just said. Oh, NOW it’s gospel.

Here’s another perk: I messed something up and commented that my KFu was amazing in its suckage but I totally rock the gong. Heidi turned to me and said “Oh man, you so totally do!” and went on to say that the gong echo part hasn’t been done right for the longest time and then last night…BAM! Spot on. They were even talking about how good it sounded because of me. Sahweet! (Take THAT Mr. That’s How I was Taught And I’m not Taking Any Of YOUR Advice.) Hey, five plus years playing the same thing will get you some experience in playing it right. I’m just saying.

Beatings. There will be beatings! Stupid little KFu shits. *glower*

Back in the more or less real world, I got a tape cut today and bled like a stuck pig. A tape cut. Why? Am I just that lucky that I can grab any old toner box and cut my finger on tape when I let the box slide to the ground? TAPE people. Who gets tape cuts? Some zippy quick packer at the toner plant taped up the box and let the end of the tape rumple up and I found one of those rumple ridges and sliced the tip of my finger open. Sometimes my bizarre accident luck even boggles my mind.

Oooo! Speaking of bizarre accident luck I went out to lunch with Alessar today (he bought me birthday lunch! YAY!) and tried to bite me cheek off from the inside. I think it is proof that humans were meant to have an omnivorous diet because I can’t help but notice I was eating a house salad and cream of broccoli soup. Not a hint of meat in the meal. I guess my body was having a flesh craving because I sure did bite the beegeebus out of my mouth. It crunched too. That’s the worst sound in the world; hearing your cheek crunch from the inside when you bite it really hard. Oddly it didn’t bleed (unlike my TAPE WOUND. Maybe I was anemic from the tape slice gusher and I couldn’t bleed) but I have a gigantic hole in my mouth now and I can’t keep my tongue from fiddling with it. It’s creeping me out, yet I’m weirdly fascinated by this gigantic crater in my once smooth cheek surface. Poke. Ow. Poke. Ow (would you feel the size of that thing!) Poke. Ow. (I bet it goes almost clear through to the other side of my mouth) Poke. Ow (there has GOT to be a square centimeter of flesh hanging off if it!) Poke. Ow.

Well, if I last the day I’ll let you know if any other body part becomes injured in some weird and bizarre way (Poke. Ow.).

Oh yeah: The mystery cake was yellow cake with itty bitty chocolate chips baked into it and butter cream frosting garnished with itty bitty chocolate chips on the top. It was amazing yesterday and today it is even better. It’s like chili. Chili cake! Yumm.

Last Year at the booniverse: The cappuccino helped in the fight against the wine so I did manage to get out of the restaurant without incident which is a good thing.

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