That Lame Guy Stole My Lame Move!

Like my sleeping habits, another thing I get called out for by the people who care for me is my one non-dance move. I have pitch and rhythm like a motherfucker, but when I'm dancing my arms do some sort of ski-pole maneuver. I know exactly where it came from, too:



I think when I was hitting puberty and my body was figuring out how humans move it placed the first five seconds of John Travolta's dance into it's sense-memory and called it a life. That's also why I'm a Scientologist.

So imagine my surprise and horror when, this morning, I was watching an old video of the Firehouse Five Plus Two playing and I saw my move! The lamest guy in the audience held a lame mirror up to my lame face. If you skip to 2:15 minutes in you'll be shocked and awed:



I like how, when he notices the girl is looking at him, he decides that head-nodding is probably a safer choice. To be fair to me, I never do the around-the-world thing with my hands, I can move my feet alright, and I don't wear backwards children's fireman's hats. To be fair to him, though, it's obviously working, cuz that girl is hooked - although it's possible that her smile just froze on her face when she was paralyzed by his whiteness.

Another embarrassing thing I do when I dance: I snap. It's uncontrollable! Don't try and change me, I'm lost. My body is a machine made for dancing at shows, that is all. As long as I can look head-banging/hurky-jerky I'm fine - it's when I have to look suave/human that things go wrong.