So I'm not really big into the clubbing scene. Unless it involves seals and pissing off PETA, I'm probably out of my element. Yup. I know it's hard to believe, but I don't like to dance. Shocked, shocked that there is gambling in this establishment, I'm sure.
No, I wasn’t raised in the little town from Footloose. I wasn’t taught at a young age that dancing was evil, only to be rescued by Kevin Bacon in his Olivia Newton-John ankle warmers. No, I wasn’t strapped into one of those Clockwork Orange chairs and forced to watch 24 hours of Ricky Martin concert footage and Patrick Swayze movies while having my testicles zapped repeatedly. Oddly enough, I hear that the Mormon Church now uses the exact same process to cure gays.
No, I think that the culpability flow chart for my dislike of dance reads a lot like the genealogy of the kid on the porch from "Deliverance." First off, I'm white. Secondly, I'm not the most easy going guy you're going to meet. I probably would fit in a lot better in Pleasantville, but until Barney Fife delivers a magic remote, I'm stuck with you magnificent sons of bitches.
Everything I learned about dancing, I learned from Will Smith. Elbows six inches from the waist, arms at 90 degrees. This is home. And never do the white man's overbite. Because women equate dancing with sex.
But when I eventually just go out onto the dance floor and flail around like Bruce Springsteen in “Dancing in the Dark” or Joe Carter rounding first base, I run the risk of being mistaken for having an epilepsy and having the bartender run out and hold my shoulders to the ground.
So seeing as I can't meet women by showing off my sweet Elaine Benes dance moves, I've come up with some more inventive strategies. These involve busting out my improv and acting skills. My personal favorite guises include:
1) Paying some guys to carry around cameras and then pretend that I'm on the Real World
2) Off duty Firefighter
3) I'm an actor researching a role
4) I'm an undercover cop working outside the law
5) Burt Reynolds is my father
Because when women think that you're on MTV or related to the Bandit, they could care less that your go-to dance move is the Foxtrot that you learned in 6th grade Cotillion. God bless you, Turd Furguson.
Cubs win! Cubs win!
-MGD
Max Davison is a Junior at Claremont McKenna College. He recently starting listening to the Monkees again since he learned that AIDS was originally contracted from the animal, not the band.
No, I wasn’t raised in the little town from Footloose. I wasn’t taught at a young age that dancing was evil, only to be rescued by Kevin Bacon in his Olivia Newton-John ankle warmers. No, I wasn’t strapped into one of those Clockwork Orange chairs and forced to watch 24 hours of Ricky Martin concert footage and Patrick Swayze movies while having my testicles zapped repeatedly. Oddly enough, I hear that the Mormon Church now uses the exact same process to cure gays.
No, I think that the culpability flow chart for my dislike of dance reads a lot like the genealogy of the kid on the porch from "Deliverance." First off, I'm white. Secondly, I'm not the most easy going guy you're going to meet. I probably would fit in a lot better in Pleasantville, but until Barney Fife delivers a magic remote, I'm stuck with you magnificent sons of bitches.
Everything I learned about dancing, I learned from Will Smith. Elbows six inches from the waist, arms at 90 degrees. This is home. And never do the white man's overbite. Because women equate dancing with sex.
But when I eventually just go out onto the dance floor and flail around like Bruce Springsteen in “Dancing in the Dark” or Joe Carter rounding first base, I run the risk of being mistaken for having an epilepsy and having the bartender run out and hold my shoulders to the ground.
So seeing as I can't meet women by showing off my sweet Elaine Benes dance moves, I've come up with some more inventive strategies. These involve busting out my improv and acting skills. My personal favorite guises include:
1) Paying some guys to carry around cameras and then pretend that I'm on the Real World
2) Off duty Firefighter
3) I'm an actor researching a role
4) I'm an undercover cop working outside the law
5) Burt Reynolds is my father
Because when women think that you're on MTV or related to the Bandit, they could care less that your go-to dance move is the Foxtrot that you learned in 6th grade Cotillion. God bless you, Turd Furguson.
Cubs win! Cubs win!
-MGD
Max Davison is a Junior at Claremont McKenna College. He recently starting listening to the Monkees again since he learned that AIDS was originally contracted from the animal, not the band.
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