Monday, March 17, 2008


I'm a car dancer. Yes. It's true and sometimes embarrassing. Like the time a substitute teacher was calling roll and when I raised my hand she did a double-take and asked, "Were you stopped at the Will's light yesterday in a light blue car dancing so vigorous the car was rocking?" She proceeded to imitate a few of my "moves" and I felt like a 500-pound llama was just dropped on my face, and it hadn't bathed in several weeks. "Yes. . . that was me. . ."

Lil' Sister is naturally more graceful than me (although what I lack in grace I make up in "dignity and repose") and has long since ridiculed my car dancing skills. I've never claimed to be a good car dancer, I just admit to simply doing it. I related so immediately this (yes, another guilty pleasure I don't understand. They act like 14-year-old boys. I never liked 14-year-old boys when I was a 14-year-old girl, so why do I suddenly relate?) that I almost fell off my chair with delight.

It was like a flashback to weeks before; cruisin' on Canyon with Lil' Sister alive with mockery and me singing at the top of my lungs while getting my groove on. She bops her head and humors me, meanwhile my arms are propelling around the cab, velocity only matched by my rapidly undulating alveoli.

Another problem, however, is that half the time, I make up lyrics I don't know. OR I sing lyrics I think I know like, "she's got a cigarette army charm/ she's got little white cavity braces, when in reality they're really saying, "she's got cigarette on each arm/ she's got the lily-white cavity crazes. . ." or "your mistakes you move mercy aside/ your chicago man you own your style/ you always go to gold it thus far and we'll let it go/ so carol mae let me know" I know it doesn't even make sense. But the real words aren't too much better anyway. I just sing, I don't think about the words. Roommate often catches my slips or informs me that all this time I've been singing "bod' man" it's really a four letter explicative. Woops!

So if you see me rocking in the car, just know that I am well aware that I don't look good doing it, but understand that if you had as much fun driving as I did, you would want to take a 16 hour road trip every weekend.

1 comment:

Michelle said...

HAHAHAHAHAHA! I love your stinkin' guts.

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