I like to dance, so sue me!!!!!!
Hahaha, I’m sorry, that first line just cracked me up. But seriously folks, I do; I do love to dance. Dancing is my natural passion. In fact, if I were to have my own Vitamin Water it would have only two ingredients: passion fruit and dancing…and water. It wouldn’t taste very good, but it would sum up my feelings on dancing very well. When I hear music, my body naturally wants to move. I wiggle and jiggle, I bop and be. Do I follow many dancing conventions? No, of course not. Do I flail, air-hump and turn my body into a human gyroscope? Yes. Yes, I do. I know I busted a move (or two, LOL) this weekend, but I’m beginning to think my techniques are being subtly mocked. Are those fun-loving party people laughing with me? Or are those ugly, prudish, boneheads laughing at me? Let’s figure it out:
Working at 12% of my dancing potential.
I’ll start with the case against me,
When I Dance People Noticeably Point and Laugh At Me:
This is already a pretty damning strike against my dancing skills. I mean people could maybe be laughing at something directly behind me? Or maybe they’re just laughing because they are uncomfortable around genius? Maybe they’re attracted and don’t know how to cope with their sky-rocketing libidos? I like to think those are all possibilities, but its possible they really are just laughing at me. I admit, I don’t realize how I got this good at dancing; I suppose it’s just a natural gift. Now, I have to use that gift to good for the world. I have the power to become a winner, so why am I being laughed at? When Michael Phelp’s won his gold medal, did I joke about it? Well, yes. But the answer I was looking for was ‘no’.
People Remind Me That I Danced Last Night, As If I Obviously Don’t Remember I Danced Last Night:
Listen folks, I don’t need to get inebriated to have fun. Oftentimes, the two activities coincide, yes, but they can also be done individually. Just because I dance in the middle of a crowded party, does not mean I am intoxicated to the point of no return. Actually, dancing isn’t really much fun if you are very drunk. It can aggravate nausea and dancing involves quite a lot of balance. Especially if you are “falling with style” like I do. So, when people come up to me the morning after a party and say, with a snide smile, “You did quite a lot of dancing last night, Roy.” I like to say, “Thank you, I remember it fondly.” For people not to see that all my moves are perfectly choreographed and planned is difficult for me to believe.
No One Really Wants To Dance With Me:
You might think that a really terrific dancer would have people flocking to his side, just hoping to get the tiniest taste of his rhythmic boom-shaka-lacka. This is not the case for me. I create a bubble, an unoccupied parameter around myself, where no other dancers dare to tread. Why is this? Is it because I am intimidating? Because I will embarrass most anyone in a dance-off? Because getting close to me while I fling my arms every which way is actually dangerous? Again, I like to think all these answers are right, but I could be wrong. Dancing certainly hasn’t earned me any new friends, but it’s always been more of a spiritual experience for me, so I don’t mind.
Last Night I Started Dancing And A Woman Threw A Pineapple At Me and Yelled “Knock It Off, Fuckhead!”
Last night I started dancing and a woman threw a pineapple at me and yelled “knock it off, Fuckhead!”. Did this help my dancing self-esteem? Not particularly. Did my subsequent bar-brawl help my dancing self-esteem? No, certainly not. It was a major hindrance in fact, in as far as both my legs are now broken. When I got hit in the eye with a pineapple I was EXTREMELY peeved. I went over to this woman and started getting all in her face, saying things like, “what bitch, what?” Sadly, her husband then came over, slapped me in the mouth with some chain and broke my legs with a crowbar. And where did the pineapple come from? Apparently, this woman had seen me dancing the previous night and was so offended that she went to the food store and bought a pineapple with the premeditated purpose of throwing it at me should I start dancing again. Needless to say, my legs hurt and my confidence is deflated.
Are there any positive comments that have been made about my dancing? Well, let’s go back to the start of this essay (I’m going to start calling blog entries essays now, so I sound more productive). I made this oscar-worthy youtube video a couple years ago. Now, in this video I’m working about 12% of my total dancing capacity. With that in mind take a look at some of the comments I’ve gotten:
go fuck yourself
can’t you close your mouth when you’re dancing?
ok your both fugly no offence
This is the same person, right?
ick. indie kids scare the crap out of me.
get a life busseta
mai nashpa nu se putea ?
i dont know if you meant the whole “mr esteban” thing to refer to spanish culture, what i know is that bonde do role is brazilian and they HATE to be compared to the spanish people, since they re of portuguese culture.
But then there is also this one:
This video actually changed my life.
And that’s all I need to hear. The way I move my body changes the course of people’s lives. Who’s laughing now?