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September 28, 2013

Why I can't dance.


I can't dance. The most I’ve ever tried is when we used to have a dance mat that we hooked up to the TV. Even that I was bad at. However, if you went into a club and danced the way a dance mat teaches you, you would look like an idiot. One leg would go out, then in, then out to the side followed by a two legged separation out either way. Not cool brah. 

The only aspect of professional dancing that ever appealed to me were the rooms where all the walls had mirrors and every dancer had an expensive water bottle on stand-by, like Evian. That could have been the worst plug for Evian ever if they'd sponsored me. Things are really going downhill for the folks over at Evian. Well water is back on the rise. The Amish are saying it's "well worth the wait".

A couple of years ago, I discovered that the only dance move I thought I could do was actually a move for a girl. It's the one where your arms are at 90 degrees and you fist pump away from the chest.

The last time that I danced seriously was when I went to a school disco at aged 10. Club classics from 2002, Missy Elliot and a Grease mashup was all I needed to genuinely make me think I was tearing shit up. I remember being drenched in sweat. My sweat by the way. That sounded like when winning players pour a keg of Gatorade over the coach after a game. Yeah, it wasn't that. That's gross. DJ Steve was the wizard at hand with his 1st generation Ipod. He had two eighteen year olds with him who would dance first to try and motivate all the kids to start and make it look cool. To be honest, I still need two older guys with me to do anything out of my comfort zone before me. For persuasion and encouragement. They cost a fortune but it's nice knowing that they're there in case. Lastly came the dance competition, I wanted to win this more than anything. The prize was a mix CD of all the tracks played that night. Although, I'm pretty sure that was illegal distribution of licensed content. Anyway, I was willing to do ANYTHING to win, even sabotage. I had two notes written on my hand that night - "water fountain" and "cholera".

To be fair, I did have the nickname 'Step Up' when I was in school, but that could have been because I tripped on the bottom step when going onto the stage once. It doesn't matter now.