the butler strikes back

so this weekend was interesting, in a sense. what i will not mention here is the part when i played basketball, had a party at our house that ended in commotion and tears for some who were especially attatched to their belongings, planned lessons, took naps, finally hooked up my mp3 to a good stereo thus hearing my music broadcast properly for the first time in three months, went hiking, took more naps, had a couple of my fruits moved in the refrigeratior without my knowing - thus leading to a bout of territorialism, made a large pot of turkey curry, and got a haircut. what i will discuss is how it all started out with a sort of epilogue to the whole dancing scenario:

so, i managed to drag myself to the sals lesson, which turned out in the end to be a merengue lesson. for those unaware, merengue is much easier to dance to than is salsa. therefore, the lesson was not so bad. i did alright, and was even complimented on my performance by some observant young ladies. this compliment took place at a party soon after the dance lesson. you see, many of the teachers at CEDEI live in a specific house called, Cordero House, as it is located on Cordero Avenue - and it is a house. there are often parties there, and the first of the promised lot happened on friday, soon after dancing lessons. there was much laughter and discussion of the dancing lessons, as everyone was slightly unsure about their performance. there were impersonations - necessary ones, as many people did flop about like having been electricuted. some danced as though running a marathon (not in a late 80's post breakdancing kind of way, but like running), some ignored the instructions of the teacher and turned helplessly around in circles. these versions needed to be impersonated. over time, it was determined, and voiced, that there were no very funny impersonations to be done of me - my dancing having ben passable. it was even noted that i had stayed on beat during the lesson. impressive. then, anna, ever eager to have me defend myself to a group of people, began to speak of less graceful dancing episodes invloving me, her, and her toes being stepped on. ok, fine. not that it has never happened, but i was very cautious to point out the reality that these instances are not the norm, and are in fact rare. then, as though a last ditch effort at keeping up the lie inside her head (the one that states that i am not an amazing dancer), anna began a vile impersonation of my favorite dance - the aforementioned wiggly wangles (in a previous post). though i could see that this scenario would end with me performing the appropriate version of the venerable dance, i could not suppress my disgust at the atrocity. 'no, no - i dont do that.' i said, partly in defense of myself, but partly because of the principle in opposition to the bastardization. of course, the next logical response from all those not involved in the quickly forming private matter, was to request that i set the record straight by showing the proper version. usually i would not be made to dance if i didnt want to - but i felt that this was a situation where my identity and self was being attacked, and, the response from the crowd would settle the issue once and for all (the response of the dutch girls as per the aforementioned previous post having been discarded). so, i treated the crowd to a performance of the wiggly wangles. after the initial awe, it did not take long for one of the specators to join in with their own rendition - and soon after another. in fact, within a minute, each and every person standing in the kitchen was doing the wiggly wangles. before long, we had such numbers and momentum that the next logical step was to take the wiggly wangles to the dance floor, where a few people were spinning and twirling in a salsa stupor. once the wiggly wangles showed up, however, the ballerina-like dances stopped, and the wiggly wangles spread like a ray of sunshine. i daresay that this was the worst moment of annas young life.