Relax, it's just sex(ercise).

So, a few years back, we went to the Music City Burlesque perform a show called "Spring Break or Bust".  It was fun, and campy, and I loved it.

Since then, I've been on their emailing list for Delinquent Debutantes, where they offer classes, workshops, parties, etc.

My friend N took their Burlesque 101 recently, and I mentioned to her, I always wanted to take their tassel twirling workshop.  

Sure enough, she sent the link to me, and I signed us up.

We're going to learn to on March 30th.  Sadly, it's a skill I'll never be able to share with the general public.  Unless, it turns out I'm really freaking great at it, and then I may have to redesign my career goals.

So, I'll keep you posted on that.  No pictures.  Sorry.

Now, in other news.  Sometimes, I crack myself up.

The Pope retired today, and one of my funny friends posted a picture of him on FB:

He made a comment about the Pope now finding time to join the Red Hat Ladies.

I commented:

"I saw that exact same ring at Forever 21. Or, in his case Semper XXI."

Five people have liked it. 

Holy Benedict, I'm hi-larious.

I know, I know.

I'm reminded of a time, right before Matt and I got married, when we were asked by my father to dye some eggs for Easter.  We were eating barbecue, drinking beer at Dreamland and Matt asked, "Will dye be provided?"  For some reason, I got tickled and started cackling.   I couldn't stop.  Dad was vaguely horrifed.  Short answer, yes, dye was provided.  As were eggs.  We stopped to get more eggs, too. 

Because, we decided to dye one pretty batch, per Dad's mandate, then did a second batch of eggs in poor taste.  Matt dyed one to look like a breast.  I dyed one in the colors of the Italian Flag and wrote on it, "Get Well Soon, Pope".  This would have been April 2005, and the Pope at the time was very ill and died shortly thereafter.  I'm an asshole.

Matt wrote on one:  Happy Easter!  Now Go Home!   Those are the ones I can tell you about.  There are a few that in the written context are too tasteless to cop to.

I could like and say I'm not proud of what we did.  But it was pretty damn funny.  And I am proud.

We took them over to show Mom and Dad the next day and they howled.   

I'm not sure why I'm telling you this.  Except that I can still hear Matt saying, "Will dye be provided?" and it makes me laugh.

This is not the Easter when Lola got into the cake and sausage.  That was Easter 2004.  Easter 2005, Mom and Matt got into the champagne.  In a big way.  Again, I say that with pride.  They put back some serious champagne.  

We're not a religious family - our celebration of Easter is mostly Pagan, and involves good food, and flowers, and eggs and chocolate and bunnies and whatnot.  The story of the crucifixion/resurrection doesn't really make it into our celebrations.  

I'm OK with that.  At least we're not taking up Pew Space from people who show up the other 51 Sundays of the year.

You're welcome.

Oh, and good news - looks like my February is going to end without much incident.  Which is what happens when you spend 1/3 of the shortest month of the year flat on your ass with a respiratory infection.

Bring it March.  Bring.  It.