Dancing Queen (I'm Only Seventeen!)

What's up, my bros? I love you guys.

Anyway, I have been writing novel for most of the day (up to 27,000 words) so I haven't been thinking of blogging that much. So today's short blog post will be about my mad dancing skills.

I know what you're thinking: a woman as beautiful and as graceful as me can't help but be wonderful at dancing. I know what you're thinking: since I said, "I know what you're thinking" the reality must be the opposite of what I know you're thinking. I know what you're thinking: since I know what you're thinking is actually the opposite of what you're thinking now that I told you that I know what you're thinking, you're probably thinking that I'm just making really long sentences to confuse you.

You're right.

Back on the track, I have always been horrible at dancing. I feel like I have a sense of rhythm, but it doesn't translate well into articulate movement. I think dancing is a lovely art form, so it's kind of a shame.

But at some point in my life, I'm going to have to dance. And I have. I've been to prom and a few other dances, so yes, I have danced in front of the general public. You know that story in the news where an entire ballroom population was reduced to stone?

That was me! They call me the "Ballet Medusa"!

In order to tone down my horribleness, I use a very special strategy. Allow me to bestow it upon your face. You see, it consists of a repetition of non-offensive moves. I do them in a very special order. Here it is:

The "Boom Boom"
I put my arms out in front of me, and then I bring them close to my chest while also thrusting my hips out. Then I bring my hips back in and thrust my arms. I repeat this to the beat for several seconds before I do

The Angry Fat Mushroom
I hold my arms to my sides, and then I lift them up as I squat towards the ground, arching my arms to form what looks like a 2-dimensional mushroom cap. Then I reverse the motion so I am standing with my arms at my sides again. Of course, this can only last so long, so I then do

The Caucasian Mexican in the 1860s
I motion my hands as if I am putting on a sombrero, and then yell and point as if I am telling an African American to get back to my plantation. (To the beat, of course) But, you can only get away with this for so long, so then I do the

Hypo-allergenic Cat
I put my arms out in front of me as if I am carrying a cat. I put on a sad face. Then I bring my arms in as if I am putting the cat to my face, and then I knock my head back as if I am sniffing it. I then put on a surprised face, realizing that I am not allergic to the cat and that it is indeed hypo-allergenic. I then proceed to pet the air. Finally, I do the

Sprinkler
I stick my arm out as if I am a spray nozzle, and then proceed to make pew pew noises because I'm shooting aliens out of the sky with my laser cannon.

This combination has been pretty successful. Sure, no hot guys ask me to dance (As if that would ever happen) but I manage a very good "hey, I'm at a dance and I'm not sulking in a corner" facade.

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In other dancing news, we were watching "Red" the other day, and my brother went to the bathroom so we had to pause. While he was gone, I suddenly felt energized, so I stood up from the couch and began reciting my limited ballet knowledge in front of my mom and my sister.

"Look! She's dancing! She's dancing!" my mother decreed.

As she praised me my movements got bigger and fancier, taking up more space. My sister got mad for some reason.

"That's not dancing -- " she said before I smacked her in the face accidentally with my waving arms.

So yeah, I'm dangerous.

Wouldn't want to meet me in a dark alley, huh?



May all of your children be able to have a sense of rhythm,

Esther