The Tale of Magma-Face the Dinosaur
Hey Mom!
On Saturday night I was young and wild and free. Now, I know what you're thinking Mack you wore your Darth Vader shirt outside of its Tuesday-Thursday rotation? No, don't be ridiculous. On Saturday night at 6:30pm my friend Hope (who is also young and wild and free) and I decided to drive 2.5 hours to go to a swing dancing event. That's right no laminated itinerary, no 48 hours waiting period to emotionally prepare myself for the newness, we threw caution to the wind (except we didn't, Hope drove very responsibly) and drove to Calgary.
I was thrilled. I like road trips, I like Hope, and I certainly like late-evenings. What I don't like, however, is dancing. For those of you who have been around this part of the internet for awhile you'll know that dancing usually leads to the injury of both person and pride... may I present exhibit A:
So when the idea of swing dancing was presented to me (multiple times) the following thoughts ran through my mind:
Run! Save yourselves! You think you're doing a good thing but for the sake of humanity you must flee!
In the end, I stomped around the dance floor like a brontosaurus. I stomped and I stomped and I stomped. At first, the only thing I could focus on was the heat of embarrassment bubbling under the skin of my face like a vat of magma. My hips don't lie and they were screaming No, no please stop this madness. What do you think we are?Knees? Then I started to have fun. Then Hope and I did the robot and pantomimed double dutch.
If I'm honest (and I'm nothing if not honest), everyone was extremely nice to me and despite my magma face and brontosaurus rhythm I had a fantastic time.
That is all.
ps. Today I am old and tired and sore.
On Saturday night I was young and wild and free. Now, I know what you're thinking Mack you wore your Darth Vader shirt outside of its Tuesday-Thursday rotation? No, don't be ridiculous. On Saturday night at 6:30pm my friend Hope (who is also young and wild and free) and I decided to drive 2.5 hours to go to a swing dancing event. That's right no laminated itinerary, no 48 hours waiting period to emotionally prepare myself for the newness, we threw caution to the wind (except we didn't, Hope drove very responsibly) and drove to Calgary.
I was thrilled. I like road trips, I like Hope, and I certainly like late-evenings. What I don't like, however, is dancing. For those of you who have been around this part of the internet for awhile you'll know that dancing usually leads to the injury of both person and pride... may I present exhibit A:
Run! Save yourselves! You think you're doing a good thing but for the sake of humanity you must flee!
In the end, I stomped around the dance floor like a brontosaurus. I stomped and I stomped and I stomped. At first, the only thing I could focus on was the heat of embarrassment bubbling under the skin of my face like a vat of magma. My hips don't lie and they were screaming No, no please stop this madness. What do you think we are?Knees? Then I started to have fun. Then Hope and I did the robot and pantomimed double dutch.
If I'm honest (and I'm nothing if not honest), everyone was extremely nice to me and despite my magma face and brontosaurus rhythm I had a fantastic time.
That is all.
ps. Today I am old and tired and sore.
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