Happy Feet

Deep inside the tropical jungle of condominiums and shoplex, there lies a hidden, secluded enclave of huts where an infectious rhythm of drumbeats has started to play. Almost in unison, tribal dancers troop out in black and white eager to showcase their practised moves, clapping their hands and stamping their feet to the accompanying beat of the drums and the whooping audience.

No boiling pot full of pale-faced pre-colonial explorers though.

Only chocolates and coronas for the guests of the tap-dance extravaganza.

And we were all there to lend support to one of our own. One of the Lushes, Fabulous Fiona. Yes, it seems that our girl tap-dances in between clothes-shopping and picking up eligible fellas from various transport routes. A real Samaritan, this girl.

I find tap-dancing simply amazing. Not only from the fact that a variety of sounds can be made only from fancy footwork - but also from the fact that the dancers seem to have legs that move independently of their bodies. Really! Look ma, no joints! Frankly I'd have my legs twisted into an undignified pretzel if I did the same.


Even the dancing baby penguin would laugh at me.

Was gonna comment that Happy Feet always reminded me of the sleepy Charming Calvin but turns out he was much too engrossed with the tap. Who knows, he might be signing up for classes soon.

Happy feet wasn't exactly the drawing factor for me though since the Lushes and I were clearly distracted by the droolworthy audience instead. Obviously girls predominated the dancefloor so the cheering crowd had boys aplenty as well! From brothers to boyfriends - to some we half-suspect are possible gay buds. So I scoped out the other guys in the crowd from Drummer Dude to Tap Twinkie.

And yes, to my very own Dimple Dreamboat - who looked a tad like my once-upon-a-time wet dream Yummy Yee. Though he looked utterly bored ( seemed to have been dragged there kicking by his fearsome momma ), his teasing dimpled smile managed to save him from pure vanilla good-boy blandness.


You know I'd rather be at home, right?
Hell, I'd have done him right on the tap stage with the resin on.

But I just might get stomped on by the enthusiastic dancers. And those steel-soled shoes look awful painful.

Quite obvious after comparing notes that the Lushes and I share distinctly varying tastes. While I clearly fell for the clean-cut boys, it seems that Shameless Shalom has a wicked fetish for rough, brash tradesmen :) Certainly matches her recent rock chick look.