gothic breakdance style development: post-mortem #3

I am not Michael Jackson. I must try to remember this next time I try to do that 'standing en pointe with bent knees' move, because this time I rolled a 1 on the balance check and I'm currently oozing blood from my knee. Sometimes it doesn't matter how gently you take off the bandage, you're going to take some skin with you.

It doesn't hurt much, it's just gross and an embarrassing reminder of dancefloor failure. Days like today I'm glad I have no shame or dignity to get in the way of pulling crazy stunts like that multiple times. Yay for childlike unconcern and good times at clubs.

Also: never order a White Russian at Panoptikon. Doug got me one as a primitive painkiller after the fall, and the bartender's habit of mixing the drinks super strong doesn't do so well on cream-based drinks. When the alcohol content is too high, the fat dissolves completely and there's nothing to keep the protein in suspension; it starts separating out into gummy milk-flavored strands. Eww.

And one more thing.

I'm staying at home this week to work on my book and spend some quality time with Douglas before he gets his laser treatment and turns into a grouch for a month. I will be online very little this week.