Tag: Samba

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Crappy Day

 

It’s about how ballet-styled clothes and makeup have been all the rage on the runways of late. And, gives a little advice on how to do your makeup like a real prima: for ‘Coppelia eyes’ apply false lashes at the outer corners and blue pink lipstick, it says. Blue pink lipstick? Hmmm?

But, looking at the actual clothes, I don’t think the dresses are anything special at all. Just some light pink and white silk with lacy outer layers, flowers in the hair, and way over-the-top pointe-style sandals with laces climbing all the way to the knee. Why don’t they make dresses is that beautiful silvery lavender from Christopher Wheeldon’s Evenfall… so dreamy… and totally bring on the tulle! It’d make a gorgeous springy dress.

And, I’m not feeling so hot. Throat’s a little scratchy. I hope I’m not coming down with something. This is so not the time with foxtrot showcase and Blackpool and end-of-the-fiscal-year deadlines at work all coming up…

My yummy lunch:

I know it’s not so good for me; it’s just all I want to eat with a sore throat…

Al, on the cover of the Style Mag was this actress, Paula Patton. I’ve been roaming around YouTube this rainy day looking at new videos of Carnival coverage in Rio and I swear she was one of the celebrities wearing a glamour bikini. Does anyone know if she was there?

I have to say, something really depressed me and maybe – hopefully — it was just the videos I saw, but Carnival looks rather dangerous for women. Lots of men grabbing and groping women and with no accountability for their actions. Like the Puerto Rico day parade here that year when there was all the sexual abuse. Are women respected anywhere in the world? It’s so upsetting to me… Hopefully Craig Salstein and whoever else is at Guggenheim tonight will pull me out of my blue funk…

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My Prize From Root Magazine!

So, I just received in the mail my prize from Root Magazine for being a winner in their essay contest for my piece on making an ass of myself in Samba class! I love “Rough Guide,” and it’s perfect for me — covers dance festivals worldwide, and has a whole section, OF COURSE, devoted to Rio’s Carnival! Lists inexpensive hotels, how to get tickets to the parade and what times to go to see the best schools, and how and when to sign up with a Samba school if you wish to dance in the parade (it listed Mangueira as the best, which Cathy had first told me about!) So, now I have NO EXCUSE for not going next year 🙂

The book also lists a bunch of other fabulous world festivals (both dance-related and non-dance), including, New Year’s Hogmanay in Scotland, PETA’s “Running with the Nudes” — as opposed “Running with the Bulls” — in Spain, NY’s very own Halloween parade, and one in particular that caught my eye — the Gay and Lesbian Festival in Sydney — supposedly the largest of its kind in the world and in which participants really know how to “lose their inhibitions,” clothing-wise. Sounds like the perfectly SAFE place for that — and probably ideal for someone like me who freaks over her costume showing a milimeter of cleavage (more about that in a later post…) Hmmm, ideas for more stuff to spend my non-existant monetary funds on…

Here’s a picture from the inside flap — I’m not sure if this is that Sydney festival or something else, but it looks intriguing 🙂

Anyway, it was the perfect prize for me! Thanks again so much, Root!

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Extremely Embarrassing Dance Moment!

Baryshnikov and Kudo in Sinatra Suites I

B and K in Sinatra Suites II

I took these crappy pictures from my miniscule-screen, bad-reception TV, which is why they’re so difficult to see, but they’re basically of this step — way more difficult than it looks — from the DVD of Twyla Tharp’s Sinatra Suites. My teacher and I were trying to put something similar into our foxtrot routine. Basically, the guy (in the above case, Baryshnikov) kneels, while the lady (Elaine Kudo) stands facing away from him, then lifts her back left leg in arabesque, and he helps her first to turn herself around toward him, them to propel herself up and over his body, first straddling his shoulder, then doing splits across his back, traveling all the way around him, and landing on her front leg near his right shoulder. Hard to describe, which is why I tried to take the pics. It always amazes me how some of the most difficult-looking shoulder-level or even overhead lifts are actually easier than some of the more simple-looking things. I mean, that may just be from my female amateur perspective: some of the things that are easiest for me may be the hardest for the man. But, I never thought until I tried this one that it would be difficult. It’s hard because you have to make yourself as light as possible so he can kind of glide you along around him, and you also have to help push yourself around without your hands, but using your stomach, thigh, and butt muscles. Well, I kept getting stuck on his shoulder; somehow my crotch would get stuck on his collar bone — very weird sensation– and I couldn’t move myself along any further.

So, he decided to try to help me by using his hands a bit more aggressively. He placed one on the bottom of my left thigh (the front leg). But as I was nearing his shoulder, he moved his hand up a bit and, sorry to be a bit crass, but about three fingers shot straight into my crotch. Kind of FAR too! I mean, he felt EVERYTHING. And I had some serious tugging down to do to my leotard and tights afterward! When I looked at him, he had this shocked expression on his face. “Um, okay, that was a little … intimate … sorry about that,” he laughed nervously. I’m such a goof, I just giggled; didn’t know what else to do. And then once I started laughing, he started too, and then I really couldn’t stop. Thankfully it was near the end of the lesson!

Weird thing is, it seemed that everyone else in the studio knew exactly what happened. There are these adorable little kids who are about to go on the junior Latin competition circuit who take lessons with one of the coaches there and they were on the floor practicing at the time, with their parents looking on. When I looked over at them, they were both staring right at me, with very curious faces. Their poor parents looked bewildered. “Ugh, sorry, it’s not my fault,” I felt like saying to them.

I know these things probably happen often with professionals. And, I’m high-waisted (long legs, short torso), so whenever I get lifted by the waist, the guy inevitably gets a handful of breast. I’m used to that now. But this was a new one. I guess another thing I’ll get used to as well. Partner dancing is very interesting!

Quenia Ribeiro

Anyway, in celebration of Carnaval, which I couldn’t go to this year, I watched my Quenia Ribeiro Samba DVD repeatedly. How come it looks so much easier on the tape???!!! Ugh. Anyway, I have the basic steps just about memorized now. I just have to try them out … ooh, so afraid I’m just going to just be nauseated when I see myself in front of the mirror though…

Oh, also, I was one of the winners of Root Magazine’s essay contest on your most memorable dance moment, for my story of struggling through my first Samba class! Thank you so much, Root! There were five winners in all, which the magazine is publishing throughout the next month. The above link takes you to the first one — a sweet discovery about romantic attraction through Salsa dancing. I’ll post when mine’s up.

Also, Natalia has posted the next dance blog carnival, whose topic is “Looking With a Dancer’s Eye.” Should be fun!

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Can You Say, Evil Latin Stilettos!!

latin shoes

One of the hardest things for me about Latin ballroom dance is honestly the shoes. Above is my shoe collection — priced at well over $1,000. And I don’t keep buying more because I have some kind of stiletto fetish, believe me. I just absolutely cannot, no matter how hard I try, find a pair of high-heeled open toed sandals that I can dance in. My problem is that I have extremely small ankles, but the width at the ball of my foot is normal. So narrow shoes pinch very badly at the toe and start to give me bunions if I wear them too often, but regular-sized shoes are way too large at the heel and don’t keep my heel secure, so that at times, my foot has almost lifted completely out of the shoe, resulting in a near-twisted ankle. Also, I have an extremely high arch, so if the material at the front of the shoe does not extend well enough up the middle of my foot, the front of my foot will pop out of the shoe when I point. Finally, I have long toes, so in open-toed shoes, my toes tend to extend out the front of the shoe, hitting the hard-wood, sometimes resulting in splinters short-term, bone spurs on my big toes in the long term. Yet, if I were to get the shoes in a bigger size, the heels would be way too big, resulting in the twisted ankle problem.

The only pair of shoes that have ever worked at all for me are the Capezios, in the picture on the bottom right with the tango toe in twisted copper and navy blue. But Capezio is no longer making that style in a soft-soled Latin ballroom shoe — it now comes only in hard soled cabaret-style shoes. Still, they weren’t perfect — the tango toe was a bit hard to point in and the material at the toe was so hard that they ripped the cuticles on my big toe, forcing me regularly to pad my big toes with moleskin, even after a year of wearing them, when they were well worn-in. Not the most attractive look, but at least the heel held my heel and I never nearly twisted my ankle. Interestingly, the Capezio’s — the shoe that worked the best while it was still being made — are, at $90, are the second least expensive pair (Blochs were $85; most expensive were LaDucas at $290).

To the immediate left of the Capezios are a strappy pair of International brand which are way WAY too tight at the ball of my foot, completely cutting off my circulation and forcing me to hobble around after half an hour of wearing them. After a couple of weeks of trying to break them in, I couldn’t feel the front of my foot. I went to a podiatrist, who laughed at the shoes when I pulled them out of my ABT dance bag. Shaking his head, he told me it was no wonder I was losing sensation in the foot. I told him all Latin shoes were this way. He told me no serious worries, loss of sensation in the foot did not amount to loss of motor function. So, basically, just because I couldn’t feel my feet didn’t mean I wouldn’t be able to walk.

Next, atop the Internationals, are a brand called Gamba or something like that (I honestly can’t remember all the brands I’ve tried). Basic problem with those is that they don’t hold my foot in them — kind of defeating the purpose of having a shoe in the first place: the straps are too far apart at the toe, so my toes come straight out of the edges of the shoe; if I have the ankle strap buckled tightly enough so that my foot doesn’t come out the front, it cuts off my circulation and sometimes literally creates a bloody mess. Exact same problem with the Freeds, to the right of the Gamba’s.

Proceeding to the top circle, from left to right. On top left are black tango shoes. These, and the LaDuca’s next to them have the best heels — only 2 inches tall and wide, allowing me to keep my balance. However, the tango shoes, though fitting at the heel, are too narrow at the toe (I have 1/2 hour tops of wearing them before I’m in such pain I can’t walk, let alone dance). The LaDucas work okay, but if I’m ever going to compete, closed toed shoes in Latin are an absolute no no. In any event, LaDucas all come in medium width, making them too wide at the heel for me. I had to take them back to the store three times to have more holes created in the strap so I could buckle them tighter and tighter, but now, because of that slightly off center t-strap, they’re pulling too much at the toe, creating serious toe pain. However, LaDuca guy told me I need the t-strap shoe, because, in the shoe sans t-strap, my foot will pop out the front when I point.

Next to LaDucas are the Blochs. Bloch just started making ballroom shoes, and I was told by the clerk these were the ones the ABT ballerinas wore in “Fancy Free.” However, upon seeing the ballet recently during ABT’s City Center season, and sitting practically onstage, I can assure her that only Angela Snow, who danced the very small part at the end of the ballet, was wearing these — and she looked very wobbly in them. Indeed, the heel is so narrow, it’s nearly impossible to stand on let alone dance on. Also, long toes come out the front of the strappy straps. Also, these, when buckled as tightly as I need to buckle them to keep my ankle secure, rip into the vein running underneath my ankle.

To the right of the Blochs are the second pair of Freeds. These are fine except the front of my foot, from ball to toe pops out of the front of the shoe when I point because of my high arch. So, after pointing, I somehow have to nonchalantly stomp on the front of the shoe to get my foot securely back in — which I don’t think will look too keen during competition or performance. Also, Freed does not design their buckles well. In neither Freed shoe style can I buckle the strap when it’s tightened tight enough to keep my heel in place. So, I can only get the metal thingy in the middle of the buckle into the hole, without being able to get the strap then back through the buckle. Looks stupid, and, needless to say, is not very secure.

To their right are the fancy pair of Internationals. These are so high (3 1/2 inches) that I really can’t balance. Plus, I’m taller than all of my male partners in them. Plus, the toe is not flexible enough and doesn’t allow me to point properly. Plus, the toe is sooooo open, my foot comes forward and out the front leaving my heel insecure risking the twisted ankle.

Finally, all the way at the top right are these Mootsies Tootsies brand (can’t remember the exact name but it’s something like that). Everyone makes fun of me when I wear them because they’re not a serious competitor brand (as the name implies), but a social dance brand. I didn’t care when I bought them; I was just desperate for a shoe that fit, and they seemed to in the store. But, as I learned, when dancing my rhumba routine with Pasha, the soles are so soft that they buckle under my foot. At one point, while trying to do a sexy rhumba walk around him, the toes of my right foot pointed (in arabesque position — so foot was behind me), and, as I brushed my foot forward through the floor, toes went completely through the straps, leaving the shoe under my foot, the ankle strap ripping through my skin while my foot went forward without the shoe. I literally tripped and fell.

“Tonya, you must get used to one pair of shoes,” Pasha always used to tell me. Having some kind of a shoe malfunction was nothing new with me, so he almost laughed with the Mootsies Tootsies mishap. Okay fine, but which pair? If I force myself to ‘get used’ to the wrong pair I could end up with a twisted ankle, severe bunions, or complete loss of foot sensation.

Oh, why can’t I just wear these! I know, not exactly attractive paired with a sexy Latin costume… I often wear the soft jazz shoes (on right), or teacher ballet shoes, which have a slight heel and suede bottoms allowing them to glide over hardwood floors (on left), but then when I go to practice the routine in the proper shoes (ie: evil Latin stilettos), I’m two to three inches taller and the partnership is all off. When I practiced my snake with Luis (where he dips me sideways, then I slither down and go through his legs, ending up behind him), we did it a bizillion times perfectly in my soft jazz shoes. When I started wearing the high Latin heels, I was suddenly banging my head into his crotch on the way through…

Well, one fun thing about these street Samba classes I’ve been taking recently at Ailey, is that, I just wear these:

No super skinny heel that I can’t balance on, no toe straps to fall through, no ankle straps to slice my skin, and, most of all, really inexpensive!

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Street Samba, Part Deux

Quenia Ribeiro DVD

Last night my friend, Kathy, and I took Quenia Ribeiro‘s Samba class at Alvin Ailey (me for the second time now, Kathy for the first). Kathy seemed humorously dumbfounded (like I think everyone is the first time they try the dance!), but she seemed to have fun — at least I think she did! But I thought it was actually harder this time — it seemed that the actual steps were more complicated than last time. Then, I at least knew where to put my feet on the floor, and just struggled like crazy with moving my pelvis and rib cage properly. But this time I couldn’t even get the steps down well enough to focus on body movement. Ugh.

In class I saw an acquaintance from my ballroom studio. We chatted a bit and she said she’s trying to save money by taking street Samba instead of ballroom as well. I guess I’m not the only one overwhelmed with the cost of ballroom…

Anyway, Quenia told us last night that she will be in Brazil for the next month for Carnival (lucky lucky her!), so there will be a substitute teacher at Ailey, which will probably be good for me since the sub hopefully will not know how advanced all of the “beginner” students are (maybe the more advanced dedicated Quenia students won’t even show?…) and will go A LOT slower. Fingers crossed anyway. Well, I bought Quenia’s instructional DVD and am going to practice like crazy over the next month so maybe I won’t be such a sorry sight when she returns! Hopefully by just watching her on tape, SOMETHING will seep in…

Speaking of great Brazilian dancers … the awesome Chimene sent me this link. Funny thing is, though of course I HAD to add it to my blogroll immediately (the link is the exclamation points at the top of the ballet section, because that is how I think of him — in exclamation points 🙂 🙂 ) and know I am going to be searching MySpace for his comments to his friends, I can’t help but feel kind of weird doing so. I remember reading a discussion on Ballet Talk not long ago where people were agreeing that it was probably better not to meet your favorite dancers for fear of disappointment. Not that a huge amount of info is revealed on MySpace, but still, do I need to know that he’s “in a relationship” or that some of his friends seem a little … hmmm … outlandish!? I don’t know… It’s just weird seeing someone who has kind of a celebrity status to you, whom you admire / worship / have a gigantic crush on 🙂 just talking freely in an open forum like that .. and whether it’s actually hanging out and conversing with or just watching in on the conversations of said admiree / idol / crush object — I mean, you’re bound to be disappointed if they don’t live up to your expectations, if they’re not perfect, which they won’t be since they’re human of course…

On the other hand, look at the cute cute puppy! (who looks rather contemplative in this pic). And look at his answers to the profile questions 🙂 … Ugh, how could anyone not just LOVE him?

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Arty Farty Meme

I’m stealing this from Konagod. Because it’s a fun one, and I like how some of the questions are phrased:

1) Name a book that you want to share so much that you keep giving away copies:

I can’t afford to buy copies to give away, but I’ve lent out my copy of Dreams of My Russian Summers by Andrei Makine so many times that pages are now falling out.

2) Name a piece of music that changed the way you listen to music:

I’m not a big music person, but I’ll never forget the first ballroom Samba class I took at DanceSport, my first studio, with this extremely fun, but somewhat crazed 🙂 Greek woman named Roula Giannopoulou. I’d never heard Samba music before, nor had I ever taken a Samba dance class, and I have no idea now exactly what piece of music she played, but with the wildly intense percussion produced by several kinds of drums, intriguing sounds of other musical instruments I didn’t recognize, the different timing, the beautiful, poetic flow of the Portuguese (which of course I didn’t understand), and just the overall mad-fun atmosphere the music created, I knew I was going to love the class before Roula even made her way back from the stereo to the front of the mirror to show us the basic. As I learned the dance (and the other Latin dances as well), I had to concentrate really hard to hear the beats, so I wouldn’t be off-time. It also made me interested in the culture which produced it, which I knew from from the foreignness of the music alone, must be quite different from my own. So I guess it is in these ways that I learned to listen to and think about music differently: not just to get lost in it, but really to hear the drum beats, the rhythm, the way it was all put together, and view it as a window into another place…

3) Name a film you can watch again and again without fatigue:

In the Name of the Father — for the music, the story, Daniel Day Lewis, the setting, everything…

4) Name a performer for whom you suspend all disbelief:

On screen, Sean Penn; on stage, Jose Manuel Carreno.

5) Name a work of art you’d like to live with:

Pot Head, by Paul McCarthy. People accuse him of being lewd, bawdy, and prone to sensationalism, but I think the man tells it like it is 🙂

6) Name a work of fiction that has penetrated your real life:

Just one? — impossible. Middlesex, The Mambo Kings Play Songs of Love, Native Son, The Grapes of Wrath, Howard’s End, Crime and Punishment…

7) Name a punch line that always makes you laugh:

This one’s hard for me. I don’t know if I know any punch lines, but I’ve always been humored by the movie line: “Dear Diary, my teenage angst bullshit has a body count.” From Heathers.

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Valley Girl Attorney Will NOT Be Going to Bahia!

decision I won all ready to be served

Yesterday at work, I got a call from a reporter from a big law journal here, wanting to do a short interview with me about the case I recently won. I was getting lunch when he called, so he left a message. When I returned to my desk and listened to my voice mail, I freaked out a bit. I’ve never spoken to the press before! So, I re-read my brief and the D.A.’s brief, re-read the Court’s decision about eight or nine times, even re-read some of the cases I relied on and the Court cited. I was so nervous. I mean, I think I am the typical appellate attorney: i.e. a bookish writer-type, who can’t talk her way out of a paper bag — which is why I am an appeals lawyer, and not a trial one, after all! Ugh. I took so much time re-reading everything in sight, that I must have returned his call too late in the day, and missed him, because I sat by the phone, like a high-schooler waiting desperately for the boy she likes to call her back, until well into the evening. Around 7ish, I finally decided it was time for me to leave the office for the day; I figured he’d call back tomorrow.

I was so frazzled in the evening, I thought I’d better do something to bring my stress level down a notch. So … I took a dance class of course! But, in keeping with my New Year’s resolution to not spend so much money, I opted for a street Samba class at the Alvin Ailey extension, for $15, instead of another ballroom lesson, for about $10,000. Which means, I saved $9,985!!! Which means I can attend one more Met ABT performance!!!

Seriously. Street Samba: insane. INSANE. I’ve never felt so stupid in my life! We started out doing these crazy stretches, making me realize just how inflexible I really am. Then, only a half an hour into the hour-and-a-half-long class, the teacher — the other-worldly, completely beyond human, impossibly amazing, Quenia Ribeiro, began with like, advanced advanced ADVANCED hip swaying, pelvis contorting, just crazy moves. The class was supposedly for beginners!?! First step — FIRST step — was this African-based (I know this, because I’ve seen it at Broadway Dance Center‘s West African class’s student showcase) traveling move, except instead of simply opening up arms and legs as wide as possible sideways while somehow bouncing forward, she moved her pelvis back and forth in this really beautifully sexy way. I tried and tried and tried to imitate her, but couldn’t in any way, shape, or form do anything even close to her with my mid-section. Happily, I managed to figure out where my feet, at least, were supposed to go on the floor. Right at the second I was feeling like, okay, I look like an enormous ass, but at least I know where TO GO on the floor, the drummers started drumming (live band by the way, singing in Portuguese, which means they were really Brazilian — how the hell they managed not to laugh themselves silly watching us, I’ll never know…) , and Quenia started moving AT THE BEAT THEY WERE BEATING TO — basically, the speed of light. In trying like hell to keep up, I flailed about wildly, smacking this poor Asian woman next to me right in the face. She stepped on me, though, so it was okay! Seriously, the few of us in the back section were spending more time apologizing to each other than anything else.

It didn’t take me long to realize it was just not going to be happening with me. I mean, this woman just moved in ways that I didn’t know possible. Her pelvis was darting back and forth — both front to back and side to side, so fast it was just a blur. I had to grab onto the back barre just to steady myself while watching her. This was NOTHING like the ballroom style of Samba I know! Had nothing in common with it whatsoever. I mean, it was still interesting, but just wasn’t me. As a skinny white girl, I know I will never ever EVER be able to move like this woman. And the funny thing is, after I finished my rotation squirming down the floor I stood at the back barre and watched the rest of the students. And, apart from about four really good ones, who you could tell were her very serious dedicated students, no one was really dancing Samba. They were all, however, rocking out madly, and were laughing hysterically and obviously having great fun doing so — unlike me, who just couldn’t get over the fact that I couldn’t do it properly. The really fundamentally pathetic thing about me, I realized, is that, these people, though they weren’t doing Samba, still all had obviously danced a lot at clubs before and just had either a natural or developed sense of rhythm and awesome, for lack of a better term, booty-shaking skills. I, on the other hand, had none. They may not having been dancing Samba but they were most definitely DANCING; I — I looked like Gumby basically.

Well, I felt STRONGLY like giving up, but forced myself to give it the old college try — more because I knew I’d feel stupid making a scene either walking out of class or sitting down in back than anything else. The reason I managed to make it through the whole class — nearly the whole class anyway — was because I assured myself that, even though I was making a gigantic ass of myself, no one was looking at me; people were concentrating on themselves, on having themselves a blast. And this little mantra worked. Until …

alvin ailey extension school

…until I turned to look out the window, and saw, to my horror, about twenty to thirty people — men, women and children, on the outside of the building staring right back at me, bemused looks overflowing their faces. Turns out this handy little covering on Ailey’s ground-level studio windows is not really a covering — if outsiders walk up close, they can see everything going on inside. And since Samba is so much blasted fun, the music pouring out through the windows and onto the sidewalk, we attracted the attention of every passerby… And I had thought I was SMART to stay in the back of the class — ie: by the window, and not by the mirror! Idiot idiot idiot!

Anyway, I tried and tried, but to no avail. I never did get it. Just when I thought we were done, at about ten minutes until the end of the hour, and everyone was applauding the band, Quenia announced that we’d now completed the Bahia part of the class; now, it was time to learn the Rio style. Good lord, I thought; there’s more?! And funny thing, absurdist thing was, Rio was actually much closer to what I knew from ballroom! I mean, there was still a lot of upper-body arm and upper torso movement, and hips were looser and steps bigger, but I actually recognized some of the moves! I saw bota fogos, and voltas, and bachacatas — my favorite!!! I nearly peed my jazz pants! Legs were kept a little closer together than in Bahia, and Rio was, to little ballroom whitey me anyway, more familar to my body, more jazzy, more Latiny, just more me. And I swear, Quenia looked right at me when I was coming down the line, and just kind of smiled, as if to recognize that (even though there were at least 20 students in the class), she could see how much trouble I was having with Bahia (you’d have to have been blind not to); and now here I was doing something not completely ludicrously wrong! Ah! So, at least now I know that Rio-style Samba is the kind that I like, that I can actually aim towards even if, with my body type, I may not ever look completely right doing it… Throughout class, I was thinking how much I just wanted it to end, how I’d look back on this and laugh but would never ever come back, but at the very end of it, I was actually reconsidering. Maybe I will visit Quenia again, especially if she spends more than the last ten minutes on Rio!!! Anyway, my mind was very successfully taken far off of reporter guy!

First thing this morning, he called. The minute the phone rang, I reached for the paper on which I’d written out my ‘statement.’ Of course, once I started to recite it, he interrupted and started asking me some questions. And he was so nice and warm and easy to talk to (do they learn to be this way in J school??) I couldn’t help but just go along with him and speak what I thought, off the top of my head. After I hung up, I realized that, though I said what I wanted to say content-wise, when I’m relaxed and speaking freely, I tend to use lots of “likes” and “totallys” and “I means” and “ums,” and now I’m all worried, if he took down word for word what I said, I’m going to sound like ‘Valley Girl attorney’! I can just see the write-up: “‘I was like, oh my god, I totally can’t believe the trial Judge like did that, like that was soooo totally wrong,’ says Ms. Plank…” My office-mate assured me that I most definitely did not sound like that, but I’m still worried! Will have to wait and see…