Dancing with the Oscar's

Saturday evening was spent enjoying time with my peeps, The Casseroles. We dined at a wonderful Mexican restaurant, Habenero’s. Bombadee has a post with all of the nitty gritty and I concur with her entirely. I forgot my camera today, so pics will have to be posted tomorrow (sorry ladies). Two great things I would like to note from the evening, both personal:

• The first Casserole meeting was in the summer of ’05. I remember dancing that evening; or more specifically how I would shake my thang no more than two songs at a time before being so winded and having legs that felt like wavering rubber telling me I couldn’t continue. I would often sit on the sidelines feeling woeful as my thinner, healthier friends carried on. Not anymore. This past Saturday night, I danced and danced and danced and danced. The heart pounding house music filled my limbs and assured me no rest was needed. We were at this club 2 1/2 hours, I am not kidding when I proclaim TaterTot danced two of them.
• As Bombadee and I approached each other on the dance floor, our breasts met (there’s a visual for you – imagine sparks flew or something). Now this may seem odd to some of you, but to me it translates to this: “As Bombadee and I approached each other on the dance floor, my fat stomach was NOT the first thing to touch her.”

When I crawled out of bed Sunday morning and stood up, I thought my knees would buckle from beneath me. Apparently they aren’t used to 2+ hours of dancing.

Sunday evening SugarLips and I headed to Bombadee’s for the Academy Awards. Jenny and I sat in her living room curled up in our comfy clothes under blankets as the kids ran circles and Dan moved from place to place with his laptop and earphones. While I could type endlessly on all we watched and discussed, at this time I will only note the following:

• When Sugar and I arrived and walked through the massive doors, he and his beloved LaLa’s eyes met across the room. He yelled, “LaLa” and she responded, “Iz-kak”. They ran towards each other, arms wide open, meeting halfway and embraced. Jenny and I smiled as she said, “That could have only been better if they were in a meadow or something.”
• Dolly Parton, who I adore, looks like a bobble head. It’s the only way I can describe it. Her waist, legs and arms are so thin that her head looks too big for her body. Jenny said she looked like a couple of marshmallows on toothpicks in her white suit. We both reminisced on this gorgeous, voluptuous woman we remember from 9 to 5 and Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. Where did she go?
• Jon Stewart rocks. Enough said.
• Russell Crow is the only cool cat of the modern day that can pull off a pompadour.
• Meryl Streep’s skin looks like creamy porcelain.
• As Jenny and I watched the multiple movie montages, we realized how many movies we still haven’t seen (Crash, A History of Violence) or want to share with each other (Being John Malkovich, The Color Purple). We thought, how fun would it be to have a monthly movie night? We can take turns picking a film and have popcorn and wine, followed by in depth discussions and pompous declarations on a films importance in society. This would be right up Mr. BlahZeeBlah’s alley. Then reality set in. If we establish one more “monthly get together” we might as well all move into a compound or something.