believe me, there's nothing funnier to watch than a hairy shamu flip-flopping on a dance floor for what passes as an imitation of hip hop. who bloody cares? my goal is to get some sweat pouring and doing some jerky struts and headspins (okay, that one is a major fib) is just as effective as running around a boring track.
anyways, i (sort of) memorized the routine well enough for a final showdown. everyone's pumped for at least four rounds of the whole production number, err, routine when this lady comes inside the studio, plants her fat ass right in between me and the instructor and attempts to memorize everything in a less than a minute.
even einstein's brain implanted in her noggin is not going to help.
i mean, it gets a bit distracting when everyone is doing a backflip and she's attempting what looks like a spinning top on the floor. darn, dancing on grease coated floor is not easy you know?
after minutes of standing around looking like lost cattle i almost bellowed FOR BLOODY GOODNESS SAKE! THIS IS NOT A STATUE DANCE!!!!!!!! (click on read.more to find out the exCITING conclusion of this tale...)
you understand of course this whole conversation took place inside my head as i tried to avoid hitting her. strangling is not exactly a dance step dude.
someone should tell the gym to post a sign that if you come in late, please make sure to stay by the side, the far side, better yet, OUTside. you would have expected "sense" to be a bit more common but that's too much to ask when there's not much of it in the first place.
today, i am plotting revenge.
i will join her favorite (pork) belly dancing class and i will make sure that i do the running man when she's doing the pork roll move. revenge, how sweet they name!!