Join me as I wave goodbye to what was a pathetic solo existence. Yeah, no tears here. Not yet at least, because it ain’t over until…fuck it, roll the tape.

My favorite time of the year is one when I can be as big of an asshole as I choose. Granted, that’s everyday, with the exception of my birthday, when I typically like to reflect on things. Well, luckily for me, my personality presents many opportunities for this to happen, namely title defenses. Two weeks ago, I was set to defend my title at Moulin Rouge, the social dance party. I go through my usual rounds of preparation: wardrobe, wig, football socks, big title belt. I went with the whole red and black theme, with a little bit of tan because damn it, it matched my wig. I arrive at the party with my entourage, and I’m giving directions. Out of nowhere, a random blonde in red approaches me and verbally assaults me in front of my minions. How dare she! I am the Shaman of Sexy (yes, it said so on my shirt), and I did not deserve that. It was pretty funny, as she caught me with my pants down; I wasn’t prepared to defend myself against a random stranger. She was infuriated that I didn’t remember her name, and well, the 10/25 rule holds up. See, I dance often…I remember 10% of the girls’ names I dance with, and 25% of the faces. If you ask for any more, you’re being needy. After fifteen minutes, I just blew her off and went inside to run my party. I did notice she was attractive, though…

I landed a dance with her, where I turned the interrogation on her. She told me she was single, which was important because if she would have mentioned she was taken, I was gone. I got her number, and called her later on that evening, thinking she was another girl I liked. Text messages and calls later, I take her out the following Tuesday to a salsa club. The drive was awkward, as we were flanked by salsa performers. However, alone, we were on fire. She asked me whether I was a virgin in public. She disputed my Shaman of Sexy claim. She basically went on a tear in front of my colleagues and stripped the ego away to nothing. I told her about my lifestyle as a dancer, joking that I wear a cup for protection.

She punched me in the balls to test that hypothesis. Yes, it hurt. Crushed my right testicle. And that’s how we had our first kiss.

I drove her home early because she had class. Really, we didn’t exactly go home; we more like paraded around and sang to each other, arm-in-arm. Kissed some more, agreed to see each other the next for tutoring at Title Hall. Literally, I thought she wanted tutoring, but really…not so much. I suggested the library, and she suggested Title Hall. Fair enough. Shaky ground, but meh. I think I should get to the climax (ZING!).

Now, Pippa and I are pseudo-dating. She doesn’t want to call it a relationship, but really, that’s what it is; titles scare people. I took her to my End Game venue to seal the deal: Granada Nightclub in Alhambra. I hate the place, but it’s beautiful. She told me she only started dancing because I taught her in the summer. I remember now…but I taught a lot of girls. Remembering the name was a hard task too, because…Pippa? Yeah. Anyhow, we’re together now, even Facebook says so. For once, I can say I got a girl my friends would approve; most think I have bad taste. There was some tough things that had to be negotiated, but hell, it worked itself out.

And tomorrow, I meet her family on Thanksgiving. Nothing can go wrong, right? Unless you’re referring to that title defense; that shit went bad. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Divide the Day “Let It Roll”



Confirmed: the state of officially being declared Catholic.

That’s not me, and it probably won’t be me, or…who knows. This weird setup I have with Victoria is pretty…weird. Really, it’s weird. So, let’s talk about things that aren’t weird, shall we?

Such as Halloween…Halloween was a great night. The gang came over, and we played Tekken 6 until I realized I was sick. Really, probably not, but it was late, just as it should have been. I rattled off a monster winning streak which alienated all parties involved. That’s the beauty of Tekken: everyone wants to play, and anyone can have a great night. It turns out that night was my great night, so I’m satisfied. I bypassed Halloween parties because due to the excess salsa I had throughout the week, but I did dress up. Wigs are awesome, and so are ridiculously overpriced championship belts.

Back to the problem. Yeah, I think I’m in love. I don’t think being Catholic should be a requirement for being in love. My cabinet has been advising me on the matter, and threw that thought at me…I can’t really disagree. The question is where do I go from here?

I heard there’s a Social Dance Party where I can wear my Shaman of Sexy shirt. I also heard that I’ll be the best dancer present. That has to account for something, right? Precisely. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Jay-Z feat. Alicia Keys “Empire State of Mind”