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Monday, May 10, 2010

I Could Dance in any other Decade Besides this one

I'm awful at dancing. Like dancing handicapped bad. In fact, in the five years I've known Sallie, she has only seen me dance once. New Years Eve, 2007. I was fueled by new love and about six seven and sevens. I was singing every song... sorta... but for the sorta I was getting out of my singing I was making up for with flailing Muppet armed dancing.

Sallie sometimes complains that I don't dance, but I remember after that night her telling me that it was one of the worst things she's ever seen. (On the plus side, it was one of the best times she had.)

The problem is, I'm a male of Irish breed. I have no rhythm, I have no booty, I have no moves.

The 70s was a decade of dying protest rock from the 60s and disco music.

The dying protest rock was leftover hippie music. That's easy, smoke some marijuana, trip some acid, and just let the music take you. If you suck, doesn't matter. Everyone else is too high to care.

Disco music almost had instructions for it. Saturday Night Fever was all you really needed to know. John Travolta was your Bell Bottomed Angel.



These are the five gospels of K.C. and the Sunshine Band


Then the 80s... the decade of bad music and worse dance moves.

Almost all the dance moves of the 80s were basically things you would do in life or objects put to the beat.

"Ummm, uhh, here's the sprinkler system followed by the lawn dart. Uh oh, now I'm grocery shopping."

For real, I could throw dice all day long.




Then in the 90s, we had grunge. You just grew your hair out and ran into strangers until Pearl Jam was done with its third encore.

One of my major regrets in life was when I turned down a girl to a dance.

She was extremely bubbly, nice, intelligent, and funny sometimes. She was a little over weight, but one of those over weight girls that looked really good like that.

She came running up to me after school one day, grabbed my hand, and asked me to the Coronation Dance.

I panicked. Had no idea what to say. I wasn't objecting to going to the dance with her, I was just objecting to going to the dance. Instead of me saying this, I immediately remember all the DARE dances where I sat off to the side too scared to get out on the dance floor. (I spent my time at the dances kissing girls instead, so it definitely wasn't fear of cooties.) I just straight up told her no.

To this day, I feel awful for it. I remember her name was Autumn or April or something like that. I wish I could figure out who it was because I'd really like to apologize for it.

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