It's easy to taunt me, I mean with my nerdiness, pervyiness or my unfantabulous physique it shouldn't be a problem. But that on the side, my dancing skelz have been (and still are) an easy topic for taunting me. It's either that I'm THAT bad or simply my dancing is so ultimate, so uber that basically folks are intimated by it and they choose to mock or else it will control them. I like to think it's the latter, helps me sleep at night.
I don't think my dancing routine fits with any of the universally accepted definitions of dancing. I do little movements, keep my hands in my pockets and I occasionally nod while I sip my Żubrówka with apple. But don't get me wrong, I'm not that boring. Given the right level (read: 1.5 gallons) of alcohol in my blood and just the right hip-hop song and BAM! The Fesh bounces. During the few times I've been sighted bouncing, I couldn't help but wonder how I would look to the casual onlooker? With all the bad bouncing, the awkward moves, the jittery-hand movements and not to mention my massive behind; I must look like a cheep ho bouncing in a cheap New York club on New Year's Eve, 1999. Don't ask how I know this.