Ponyo -

Nary to cuddle 
Orange fire breathing thing 
Simply on the prowl

Rough day at the office

There is a contumacious indignation in this obeisance that I undertake; for though my heart would freely shed the obligations of the day and take to lighter industry, the shackles of tomorrow's poverty reverberate.

The Dribble of Truth.

Having started the day thirteen hours earlier, and returning from an exhausting holiday, he was nearing the home stretch. At dawn, his desk's usual spotless incarnation had rapidly devolved into a disturbingly convincing thesis against the horrors of leaving ones cubicle for longer than a piss break. Like a jungle man hacking left and right with a machete through some amazonian rain forest, he had greeted his Everest of paperwork with such vigor, such unrelenting cheerful pride, that his one week holiday was nearly erased. His inbox no longer sputtered, pregnant with the 187 missed emails, and had only just quieted itself after it's hastily expectorated warning of overload from breached capacity. The last task, a profit and loss review had been postponed by a divine reprieve, and as he gathered his bag and files for further work at home, he had little knowledge that concurrent to his waking this morning, a light-switch thrown in Cincinnati had generated an arrow of causality that was at this very moment, resulting in several inches of water meandering over the lip of the men's room sink, and depositing their mass in a miniature tsunami of water creeping through the lobby, unnoticed by those nearest the source of the overflow, and tragically, imminently requiring his immediate attention.

Anna Petrova and the Extradition nightmare

Anna Petrova was born in the summer of 1976 in the former Soviet Socialist Republic of the Ukraine. A natural dancer and light on her feet, her maternal grandfather, Andre Maldovavich, often called her “steppie” in reference to her delightful talents in ballet and nearly every performance art that she was exposed to. Times were very different in Soviet Era Russia, and at age six, she was taken from her family to be enrolled in the shining star of national pride, the Vaganova Ballet Academy. There she worked tirelessly to perfect her skills in dance and quickly rose to the top of her class, landing a leading role in the Nutcracker suite, a personal favorite of hers, and of her grandfather, who had followed her to Moscow. Within two years she had exceeded all expectations and supplanted the headmistress of the academy, being the world’s youngest educator in the field of dance. It was a risky move for a child of only eight, and perhaps a premature one.
The students became restless, not caring for the instruction of one who was in many cased 10-20 years younger than the other students, and who likewise, had a busy schedule of leading roles to perform, that often distracted her from her students. Anna worked relentlessly and for 15 years managed the Vaganova Balley Academy to the surprise and astonishment of her countrymen, taking it to new heights through her innovative use of hoola-hoops, and fireworks. Alas, she grew weary of the 36 hour days and sought retirement at age 23.
She found peace in a small farming community just south of her home town of Kyiv. By this time many of the barriers present during the height of the empire had been replaced as the Ukraine and other soviet republics opened their borders and policies, and she seized the opportunity to travel abroad. She made her way through Europe, performing reprisals of her earlier plays and revivals with local companies, and for a time she was satisfied. But her dreams carried her to France, where she fell in love with the language, the people, and the pastries. Anna chose fit at this point to change her name to Stephanie, in remembrance of her grandfather, and opened a local shop. She enjoyed a relatively quiet life until she was forced to exit the country due to some confusion over the origin of several pounds of butter, and was extradited to the United States.

Miss Cha-Cha

Born in a lively cultural district in downtown Buenos Aries, Marilyn has always felt two things, a sublime connection with her fellow man, and the rhythm of the music. An all star Ballroom Dance competitor by age 12, Marilyn set the international stage on fire with her innovative use of Limbo in competitive Salsa dancing. Unfortunately, her dreams of global superstardom were tragically cut short when she met the maximum age limit for her Junior Miss Cha-Cha Team at age 15. She was devastated, and with her mother, father, and 3 siblings, Tori, Franz, and Gertrude, moved to Rio, where she was free to experiment with her dancing. Progress was slow in the formative years, but after teaming up with a fellow competitor (the Chiquita Banana Lady) she made incredible strides forward in both graceful movement, and fashionable edible headdress.
In the autumn of her 35th year, Marilyn decided to reinvent herself, and spent six months backpacking through Central America, learning about the people, the cuisine, the dancing, and she began to fall in love more than ever, with the coffee. She tasted the coffee sometimes only mere feet from where it was grown, sharing in the harvest she would often help collect, as she made her way north, working on the land. Years later she would comment that this had been the start of what would ultimately lead her to her “perfect fit”.  
Sadly, her treks north had not led to financial prosperity, and upon entry to the US, was forced to reinvent herself once again, this time as a Securitized Mortgage Investment Broker. Times were good, but that rhythm of human expression was still missing, and after her time in the insurance and investment industry, she was ready to move on.
It was around that time that Marilyn discovered and Amateur Latin Dance Competition at her local coffee shop. Even rusty, she brought in the gold, and was immediately offered a position as Dancing Lead. She could not resist, her two passions now entwined.

Monique and Mr. Mistoffelees

Born in Brooklyn, New York in the summer of 1987 to a family of 70 brothers and 85 sisters, Monique knew at a young age that it would be important to find own way in life. As a child with no shortage of playmates, she was often the more outspoken in the group, and by age six had even produced several stage productions on Broadway. The theatre suited Monique, who performed under the stage name Galatia, and by age 11 she had already established herself as a major player in the Big Apple. Unfortunately, as many stories often go for young stars, the majority of the profits from her early stardom went to support the family, which had now grown to 600 people. Having worked tirelessly at one of her many passions, only to find her revenues gone and theatre attendance diminishing, Monique looked to her idol and long time friend Madonna, who suggested it was time to for a reinvention.
Taking what little cash she had stuffed into an alligator shaped piggy-bank, she fled New York at age 15 and headed west to seek out a new life. Traveling her way through state after state, she by luck ran into an old friend from the musical production of cats, Mr. Mistoffelees, who had himself journeyed west to find a life outside of the lime light. He had become famous at this point for his skills as a jockey under the name Bob Villa, and was in search of a replacement rider for one of his horses entered into the Kentucky Derby. As so many things in life do, all the pieces seemed to fall in place, and Moniqua (a name she had taken to running under) soon found herself placing in race after race.
Fame is of course a fickle friend, and having journeyed so long to escape the paparazzi already, she was not ready to enter into the realm of the ultra-famous again so soon. It was then that Moniqua chose to focus on one of her passions that she would never become famous for, cleanliness. She journeyed westward, keeping her identity secret, but finding odd jobs tidying and putting her skills of incredible fastidiousness into practice. It was then that Moniqua found the restaurant industry, a place where she could be as clean as she wanted, and make her environment sparkle, without gaining any notoriety.

Delia von Wannemaker

Michelle’s story is a “rags to riches” tale. Born Delia von Wannemaker, an only child in 1918’s Hamburger, Germany, she was no stranger to hardship. Germany was in the dark grips of economic depression, and in 1922, loose fiscal policies and quantitative easing led to massive currency devaluations. Michelle would later reflect on these days with mixed feelings, as it was the time when food and clothing were hard to come by, but she always had plenty of cash on hand for paper mache projects. Delia’s childhood interest in arts and crafts helped gain her notoriety in a country deeply in need of a positive icon and she was selected as a top national representative sent to the 1929 World’s Fair in Seville, Spain. There she exhibited the most ambitious attempt ever in the history of the World’s fair, still holding the record for the largest collection of Paper Mache Animals. She is still regarded to this day as a rule breaker, in allowing the exhibit to be interactive, staged as a petting zoo.
Seeing the direction of the country, her parents saw the opportunity to defect and remained in Spain as political refugees, speaking openly against the German Chancellor’s anti-paper mache policies and glue rationing. Spain was a wonderful place for 17 year old Delia, it was here that she learned the dances of the culture, which would later greatly impact her artistic style, and add the great sense of motion to her pieces (See Smithsonian). But the joys could not last forever, and after only 8 short years, with Europe on the brink of war, Delia used what moneys should could muster from the sale of her treasured Paper Mache Petting Zoo, and chartered a mid-sized shipping barge to take herself, her remaining pieces, and her parents to Canada.
The journey was exceptionally long, and in fact took 16 years. Luckily, many of her experimental pieces had been edible. Once ashore, Delia found herself a celebrity, having gained fame for her resistance to war, and her sudden disappearance, and found it necessary to assume a new identity. Donning the name, Mustang Sally, she quickly learned that she needed to quite the practice of art all together, or she would be identified regardless of pseudonym.
Mustang then fled Quebec under cover of darkness to avoid the throngs of crazed paparazzi, and hitching a ride with a western going Amish family, “Michelle” finally found herself. It was the simple pleasures of butter churning, and canning fruits and vegetables that really excited her as they traveled the byroads and back ways of the US highway system.
Eventually, she made her way to Phoenix, where after a series of terrible real estate investments, Michelle was obliged to re-enter the workforce.