Today my post is going to be a smorgasborg of a variety of events, details, and generally entertaining observations that I’ve stored up over the past few weeks. I just haven’t managed to sit down and write a bunch of posts lately with all that has been going on in my life, so instead of being about one specific event, here’s a compilation.

The other day I set the context that it was going to be a fun day on my lesson. I had the day off work so I had to get my daily fix of dancing in. Little did I know that I would laugh myself silly with Ivan on my lesson that morning. And boy did it feel good!

I showed up in a better mood than our previous lesson because I’ve had some time to process all that is going on in my life, plus I had the opportunity to go to a group dance class with Toni on Wednesday (which was really fun), and also to go out to dinner with Ivonne, my dancing friend, and discuss life.

So anyways, I walked into Allegre studio (the church) and sat down.

“Which shoes should I wear today, Ivan?” I asked.

I opened my shoe bag and found my close-toed Smooth shoes which I haven’t worn in I don’t know how long. They seemed the right choice.

“Ah, Smoot chews. Okay we do smoot.” Ivan replied. At least it wasn’t “smut” we were going to do! Ha!

And so we did. Starting off with a Waltz we completed one song and then Ivan said, “Again.” We went to the music controls to select our song. Ivan found one called, “Morning Journals.”

“What is a Jur-nal?” He asked.

“Like a diary,” I replied.

“Di-ar-i, like the pooping?”

“Oh my God, Ivan! No!” Right, like they are going to name a Waltz, “Morning Bowel Movement!” Sheesh!

“It’s like one letter different! English is so crazy. Just an “a” and it mean something completely different.”

Um, no, Ivan. Diary and Diarrhea are quite different! But I suppose the words sound similar, kind of? He has a point, but leave it to Ivan to go straight to the toilet with his brain.

But the grossness didn’t stop there. I think I was sneezing or coughing or something and maybe Ivan asked me if I had blown my nose or needed to do so. This started a whole other conversation about what else, phlegm.

Apparently, once in Bulgaria Ivan was dancing in a competition and spun right in front of a judge. He was congested and the contents of his nose flew across the gap and landed on the lapel of the judge. He was mortified! He couldn’t finish dancing, he says. And he apologized profusely.

So when Marietta was stuffed up one day before a competition, he advised her to clear her nasal passages. After all, he had experience with this sort of thing. But we women have to get all gussied up for competitions and she didn’t want to mess up her make-up. Can you believe it, but during a spin Ivan saw a boogie fly across the floor. Thankfully this time it didn’t land on a person, but Ivan joked, “Can you imagine? Like a bannana peel on the floor.” I don’t think anyone actually slipped on it, though.

Okay, enough with the gross-osity.

Now we will move on to some of the weird things ballroom dancers say. Sometimes we communicate completely without using actual words. For instance, when moving my hips in a Rumba, Ivan will say, “Ticky Ticky Ta!” in place of the usual “Quick Quick Slow.” There’s a lot of “Pah!” or “Shah!” or “Da da da!” or “Whoosh,” or “Bah!” I mean, sometimes the sound effects convey the feeling the movement should embody better than saying “one, two, three.” But I think Ivan finally topped even himself with the longest one ever. He wanted me to very slowly extend my arm upwards in this move in the Latin Rumba showcase number we were working on. To emphasize this he said, you guessed it, the title of this post, “Chicky Chicky Chicky Chicky Chicky Ta!”

If you haven’t figured it out yet, Ivan has a very big personality. He is extremely charismatic and always has something funny to say. Well, at Marietta’s belated birthday party he was no different. I’m going to share the photo we took and trust me, he was the one to told me to put it up. You see, he had some tequila in this wild bottle shaped like a rifle. “I want to see on Facebook,” he told me. Alright, weirdo. Your wish is my command:

I know, right? He even had on cammo pants which compliment the military theme…but paired with a pink shirt? That’s Ivan for you! Marietta is the one with the fashion sense!

We make a colorful pair, no? Hey, a girl’s got to let her hair down every once in a while! It was a fun (and safe) night. And besides, these blog posts need some pictures and videos spicing them up so your brain doesn’t get befuddled by all the words, words, words.

So finally, we will close this post with a reverent, respectful, elegant look at….cussing.

It’s like Ivan’s favorite thing these days. “What the f’ing hell are you doing?” He’ll ask me if I screw up. It just makes me guffaw. He’s not being mean, he’s practicing “being American.” Hungry for more “Americanisms,” I taught him WTF, WTH, F’ing and other variations. Now he can swear using slang! A valuable skill. Maybe I could trade for a lesson? Probably not. But at least it makes me laugh during my lessons.

Well I guess that’s it for now. I’m bummed because this week I am scheduled to work during Inna’s class on Tuesday, but I’m excited because DWTS begins on Monday and watching that with my mother-in-law has become a tradition. I’ll make sure to schedule some lessons with my favorite Bulgarian and blog about his silly antics and share my musings about the latest season of ABC’s smash pro/am ballroom dancing hit.

Signing off for now – Pah!