Friday, January 2nd, 2009
A while back, I mentioned that I frequently bust a rhyme. It’s not intentional or anything, it just happens. Some people couldn’t just let me go on being mellifluous and they had to point it out to me, so now I’m acutely aware every time I rhyme. Like right then.
One thing I’ve always been aware of, though, is that I snap. You heard it here first… unless you’ve ever danced in my vicinity. And in that case, I can only hope whatever you heard was drowned out by the music. Every so often, for no reason whatsoever, while dancing to upbeat music… I’ll snap.
I’m not talking about a “hey-girl-drag-queen-oh-no-she-di’int-3-in-a-Z” kind of snap or even the timeless ‘When you’re a Jet, you’re a Jet all the way” style. This is just your garden-variety “I dance like a tool” sort of snap. I try not to call attention to it because whenever I do it, I immediately wonder if I dance like an old white dad.
I’m not a belly dancer. I don’t flamenco. There is absolutely no reason on this earth — other than the fact that I find freestyle dancing somewhat socially awkward and an act I do only after several somethings with rum in it — that I should snap.
You may be picturing some sort of Elaine Benes snap-kick-thumbjerk dance move, but I assure you it’s nothing so grotesque. It’s usually just a passing movement, generally when my hands are “down low” and it’s totally involuntary.
It could be worse. There was that time I may or may not have walked like an Egyptian.