What have I done in my absence? I'll tell you. Nothing. Sad, I know. The most entertaining part of my life has kicked off withing the last 10 days. Last weekend, Megs and I made a trip to Conweezy to kick it with Melissa Margaret. It was a good time. We went out to Da, Da, Da Rock. Willy D's. Oh, how you slay me. I got called up on stage by the cutie that was rocking the piano. Why me, you ask? Because when the aforementioned cutie asked for a volunteer to come up on stage to do a toe touch, the Haney sisters and friends screamed and pointed at me. I went up there. Acted like a cheerleader. Did a toe touch. Was it a perfect toe touch? No. Was it the best possible toe touch that I am capable of doing? No, I was in jeans and dress shoes and hadn't stretched or warmed up. Was it a good enough toe touch to make the crowd go nuts? Yes. Apparently, I don't look athletic at all.
***Fast forward 30 minutes***
It happens to be a girl's birthday. Wait. TWO girls' birthday. They go up on stage. They need dance partners according to Piano Cutie. One has a boyfriend. He goes up on stage. The other doesn't have a boyfriend. Piano Cutie asks for a single guy to volunteer. Cue the Haney's and friends. I go. It's a dance contest. Country first. We goof off. We win. Next, how low can you go. I go lower. We win. Next, 90's white boy dance. I am white and was alive in the 90's. We win. Last...here's what hurts...chippendale's. AND we have to take off an article of clothing. Good grief. I, myself, have a button-down dress shirt on without a shirt underneath. I am not in the type of shape to take off my shirt in the middle of a bar. I choose the belt. I proceed to dance provocatively on a complete stranger. We win.
Here's the problem. The Haney's were completely shocked that I could dance like that. I have maintained, for years, that I CAN dance but CHOOSE not to. I get forced into a dancing situation, and due to my competitive streak and hatred of losing, I perform. Short story long....I win.
It happens to be a girl's birthday. Wait. TWO girls' birthday. They go up on stage. They need dance partners according to Piano Cutie. One has a boyfriend. He goes up on stage. The other doesn't have a boyfriend. Piano Cutie asks for a single guy to volunteer. Cue the Haney's and friends. I go. It's a dance contest. Country first. We goof off. We win. Next, how low can you go. I go lower. We win. Next, 90's white boy dance. I am white and was alive in the 90's. We win. Last...here's what hurts...chippendale's. AND we have to take off an article of clothing. Good grief. I, myself, have a button-down dress shirt on without a shirt underneath. I am not in the type of shape to take off my shirt in the middle of a bar. I choose the belt. I proceed to dance provocatively on a complete stranger. We win.
Here's the problem. The Haney's were completely shocked that I could dance like that. I have maintained, for years, that I CAN dance but CHOOSE not to. I get forced into a dancing situation, and due to my competitive streak and hatred of losing, I perform. Short story long....I win.
2 comments:
so...regardless of missing pillows and sisterly screaming matches, it was one of the best nights ever. thanks champ. you were awesome.
dude, i KNEW you could dance because i've SEEN it before. but you never DO it and so sometimes i wonder if you've LOST it. let's not twist the facts here, PAL. :) it was super fun, and you made the night. good to see you.
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