Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Man Must Dance

What up fuckers?

Let me tell you a little bit about my morning. My alarm went off approximately 3 times before I decided to untangle myself from the pillow stuffed between my legs (don't be dirty) and stumble out to the living room to see if anything exciting happened in my Gmail inbox overnight. (Nothing.)

Then I decided to take a shower. Good move because I didn't take one yesterday. It was a pretty good shower despite the fact that I had to use old hotel mini soaps and shampoos because I'm too lazy to go shopping (and also, I hate any grocery type shopping more than I hate Celine Dion. That's a lot.)

Then I got dressed and decided that since it's SIXTY FIVE DE-FUCKING-GREES outside, I'd walk to work. I strapped on my iPod (strapped on? really?) and started my joy stroll through the filth that is my neighborhood.

I have some new songs on my iPod that a friend so generously shared with me so I turned those bitches on and started cruisin down the street in my six-four... it's like that and it's like this, I took her to the pad and we started to kiss...


Btw - I think I have BO. Something strange is wafting up from my underarm region. Yea, I took a shower, but I pulled the shirt I'm wearing out of the hamper and apparently my body spray couldn't handle the dry cleaning job I'd tasked it with. I'm looking at you Bath & Body Works. There is a letter coming your way.

Where was I? Oh right, iPod/listening to new tunes/walking to work. So I'm listening to these songs and I like them all (way to have awesome taste in music my anonymous music 'lending' friend) and then I get to this one:

[Hit play and continue to read, please.]

Now, I don't know if you know this about me but I love to dance. And, I have an extremely difficult time not dancing if there is a song on that makes me want to dance. This song? Makes me want to rip my clothes off and go running down the street flailing my arms and head about wildly. (I'm sure the mental image is much better than the actual one would be. Jiggle jiggle.)

I listened to it about, oh, 485 times in a row. It took all my will power not to start headbanging while walking. Dudes in suits were walking by me all suave and diddling with their Blackberrys and here I am with my iPod blaring and my face twitching with the effort it took NOT to dance.

Let's do a little experiment. Turn the volume as loud as is appropriate for whereever you are right now and when you get to the following lyrics? Try NOT to explode in violent fits of dancing:
How many times do they have to tell you
that it's perfectly fine for you to
It's nearly impossible I'm telling you. Either that or I'm a total freak. I'm willing to accept both explanations.

So I listened to that over and over, smiling to myself the whole time because I was picturing what people would do if I just started freaking out like I was at a rock concert ('rock concert'? What am I, 84?).

Then I did the sidewalk dance with a very cute boy who was probably a student as he looked rather young. You know the, oops this guy is coming at me, better move to the left, move to the right, to the left, to the right awkward waltz that every body walks away from thinking 'that dude/chick totally wanted me'.

Then I arrived at work sweating because, as I mentioned before, it's suddenly summer in the middle of February. So now my hair is frizzy, I smell like BO and it's only 9:40. I feel as though I should be able to retire for the day. I've done enough.