Crazy Cat Lady

So I've been taking this dance class at the gym. It's been a looooong time since I've taken any sort of organized dance class. I came close to taking one at my old cheer coach, Sally's dance studio about a year ago. I called her up and asked if she had any adult classes and she says, "Yeeeeeah, we have a lot. How about hip-hop?" So I go to check it out and observe one day, and the oldest in the class is like 15. Not my idea of adult, but whatever. So I've been leary(sp?) of signing up and paying for one at the city or whatever, for fear I'll be this aging has-been cheer-dancer in group full of juicy couture sporting eleventeen year olds.

So anyway, on Tuesday nights our local 24 Hour offers "Dance Jam" with Julie. And it rules. There's all different skill levels taking it (from rythym retarded to hip hoppin' homos) and Julie is just the epitome of cool. One of those kick ass dancin', no worries, life is good kinda women. I like her, a lot; and I like her class, too. I love Tuesday nights. Ravin' on Jammin' Julie.

What I don't love is the fact that I always get there early to get a good spot (it always fills up), then 5 minutes into class some no rythym hag jumps right in front of me, taking up my view of Julie, but more importantly, my view of me in the mirror. Dammit, doesn't this bitch know that if you're late, it's to the back of the bus wit you?!? I mean, it'd be one thing if there were room in front of me, but there wasn't. There never is towards the front. That's why the peeps like myself get there early, beyatch. Plus, she took up all of my spread out and get groovy room. How am I supposed to perfect my fun-kay-ness if I have no room to slide around?? Rantin' on the space hog in my dance class.