So, it's been brought to my attention that, apparently I'm a loud mouth.
You see, my girlfriends and I are taking private salsa + bachata lessons 3 times per week, and in order to see where we're royally screwing up, we got the bright idea to videotape ourselves.
Three things have come out of this:
- The acute awareness that, jesus christ, my arms are way fatter than I thought they were. Thank you, artesian beer + severe lack of willpower. (And maybe the pizzas I've been ordering as I work around the clock to finish up some big projects.) Bottom line? I never want to see another one of those damn videos again.–
- There are times when I skillfully pull off the whole sultry, sexy, Imma-do-naughty-things-to-you look. Then, there are other times when the face I'm making looks a bit more like a drunken sea otter about to give birth. Or maybe an orangutan. Either way, aaakkkwkkkkwwwward.–
- My laugh? It's just fucking obnoxious. There's no reason for this. It's out of control. I mean, when I laugh, I laugh. There is nothing dainty or feminine about it. WHOMPPP WHOMPP WHOMMMPPPP! That's my laugh in words, in case you didn't know. See? It doesn't even look nice written out.
So what's a girl to do when she discovers she's an obnoxious brute of a loud mouth with fat arms and questionable seduction moves?
Clearly, she writes a post reinforcing it.
I've got some announcements! Annnouuunnnceeeeemmmmeennnntttttssssss!!!!
A:noun:ce:ment:s. Announcements. A to the nouncements.
See what I mean? Obnoxious loud mouth all the way. (Though, I can be quite demure, I swear.)
Ready?
- This Friday, June 24th, is my birthday. If you would like to fly to Chile to celebrate it with me, that would be hilarious and only mildly creepy. Otherwise, I'm putting out a request to the universe to please ship Bill Burr to Chile in a box.
- I've commissioned my friend + music producer, Dana B., to develop + produce the official hip hop track of The Middle Finger Project. You thought things were wild up in here before? This is only the beginning. (We solemnly swear not to include barking pitbulls.)
- A man attempted to rob me of my cell phone in a taxi the other night. Let's just say that by the end of the ordeal, he was standing in the street in his boxers, and I had my phone back.
- Prior to that pleasant little situation, I had visited an Indian restaurant here with some girlfriends. After ordering our drinks, the owner of the restaurant, a pleasantly plump Indian man donning a wide, welcoming smile and a gold robe, approached our table, as he does to all. He looked at us with genuine eyes, and simply said, “What would you like to eat?” The three of us scrambled with our menus, not even sure what half of the dishes were, let alone ready to order, when he said: “Forget the menu. Put that down. What would you like to eat?” He gave each one of us his undivided attention, as we managed to stammer out some idea of what we were hoping for, and he nodded and told us which dish we'd be having that night. He then welcomed us into “our home,” as he put it, letting us know that we should consider ourselves more than welcome. End result? I ended up with a lamb dish that I never would have ordered, and it was one of the best dishes I've ever had. The point? Details matter. Attention matters. Making people feel welcome matters. In Indian restaurants, on blogs, and in business. I was happy to give them my money, and now I'm happy to be talking about the experience. Word of mouth marketing at its finest. What detail can you include to incorporate an element of unexpected delight, to make customers happy to pay you, and happy to talk about you thereafter?
Okay! I’m done being a loud mouth for today. Until next time – Happy Monday!
XO
Ash