Saturday, December 14, 2002

One two cha-cha-cha.

I had to "help out" at my uncle's studio for his annual Christmas party showcase tonight.
What kind of a studio?
A dance studio.
A ballroom dance studio.

The following is a transcription of my thoughts throughout the night.

6:07pm: What the hell am I doing here?

6:16pm: This is gonna be the gayest night, evar.

6:33pm: So many geezers.

7:02pm: At least I'm getting fed.

7:03pm: This tastes horrible. I'm gonna have to get something on the way home.

7:19pm: Man, you haven't lived 'till you've seen people slowdance to "Silent Night." Now I can die in peace.

7:25pm: I can't believe Adrian was going to walk home today. What's up with that Boy?

7:37pm: I wonder what she's doing. I wonder if she's sitting home wondering about me. God I'm so pathetic.

Yadda yadda yadda.

My uncle is an awesome dancer. I had seen him teach lessons and stuff, but today was the first time I actually saw him perform in front of people. He's crazy good. Not bad for a guy in his 40's. How did he get so good? It can't be in the genes, no one else in our family can dance worth a crap. He must have been adopted. He's gotta have some black genes in there somewhere, only black people can move like that.

All I know is that if I ever lose my sanity and decide to learn ballroom dancing, I can learn from the best.
For free.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Featured Post

Top 20 Movies of 2018

Unoriginal opening sentence wherein I express the belief that 2018 was a pretty good year for cinema, but not as great as 2017. Standard-iss...