Just got back from a dance class with folk-hero Kristina Olsen. Fun but I can’t feel my feet now. And there wasn’t any tango. I wanted tango. I’d be just as bad at that as all the other dances I’m bad at (apart from bellydancing) but it’d be fun.
Anyhow, quick further perusal of vanity results shows that one geeky boy has a line from one of my articles as his *.sig*. Now that’s disturbing.
It was this one:
“There are probably Mafia hit men out in the audience cringing, too, complaining to their mates, ‘That’s not how you blow up a bank vault! Sheesh!’ ”
– Rosanne Bersten on realism in ‘Swordfish’, the Green Guide