Sunday, September 06, 2009

This is what I write when I'm procrastinating

So you're standing on the fringes of the dance floor in a club. You're twenty-one, newly initiated into the scene, holding a Zima in your hand and wearing a sassy little top and hottie pants with your favorite strappy shoes. Your hair looks super cute, you're showered, shampooed, and shined and so very hopeful about the night ahead. There's a Potential Guy who's also lingering by the dance floor, kinda checking you out. You play eye tag. You drink from your faux-drink. You wonder what the hell to do next in this room where you will have to bellow over the music to communicate and establish anything meaningful with the Potential.

Then, just as he sidles a tad closer to where you're awkwardly striking a cool girl pose, it happens.

See, there'd been this other guy on the floor--the awesomely confident one in the red shirt who has picked up some streetwise, ass-slapping, Night Fever dance moves. He has been asking every wallflower to boogie with him. His name is McLovin, and he has seen you, too.

The room, with its flashing lights and blaring music, has confused you enough so that, when he begins pimping out in front of you in a ritualistic attempt to entice you onto the floor with his flailing charms, you don't quite know how to react. Do you run? Do you revert to the nice girl you've always been and pretend to dance, also, just so you don't embarrass him? Do you glance over at the Potential Guy to see if he'll come over and rescue you by pretending to be your boyfriend?

While the options whip through your mind, the guy in the red shirt dances on, and you wonder if this is what he looked like fifteen years ago:

In the end, this guy gets bored with you and goes on to score the most bodacious chick in the club. They get married, and he makes a billion dollars designing green technology. Then he goes on to teach his children to do the "these are my eyes, those are yours, we are connecting and understanding each other on a disturbingly intimate level" move. Basically, he lives happily ever after, dancing into the sunset while you waste your time watching YouTube. The end.


Mardel said...

Kid's got a lot of moves! He sure spanks himself pretty hard too, you can really hear those slaps. Just think, everytime mom gets a little irritated with his behavior, she can put on the jams and he can spank himself. She can't get blamed by anyone either, can she? It's great! Get Low!

Crystal Green's Blog said...

Too funnny! It's a wily parenting technique. I'm dying to know where the kid even learned, and most importantly, perfected those moves. Possession? (Clearly, Supernatural is on my mind.)