Thursday, November 11, 2010

"You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life."

I have a problem. A very large, embarrassing problem. I'm hoping that by publicly confessing my issue, it will help to curb my impulses.

#1 I like to dance. A lot.
#2 I'm an awful dancer. I have great rhythm, I just can't seem to get it to transfer from my brain to my feet.
#3 I'm relatively shy. (Translated, I suffer from major anxiety, particularly when it comes to being publicly humiliated.)
#4 We have several large windows in our house that are facing the street. When lit up at night, you can see EVERYTHING that's happening in front of/around them.
#5 I am always listening to music, whether it be on the radio, my mp3 player, or simply the music in my head.

All of these things on their own don't pose much of a problem, but when combined, they create a monstrous predicament. Given my stupid anxiety, I have a lot of pent up dancexual energy. My only outlet for cutting a rug is my house, so when the groove hits, I have to dance. There's no thought behind it, I just move. Every. single. time. this occurs, I happen to be in front of one of the big lit up windows. And 90% of the time that happens, a car seems to be driving by at the exact moment. And 50% of the time a car drives by, it's one of our local police. Our town (village, actually) has a total of four or five active police officers, with only two of them ever working the night shift. That means that every time I bust a move and a cop catches me, there's a 50% chance that it's the same guy. I don't like my odds.

I just found this quote while trying to find a picture of odds. It kept showing up, so I'm taking it as a sign from God that I'm meant to be a dancer. Move over Heavy Vee,

there's a new awesomely bad dancer in town!

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