It's time to get this place moving people. Everyone around here is lazy and slothful and fat. And by everyone, I mean me and two of the cats.
Today we instituted the Homemaker Man 1/2 hour Dance Hour.
I put on Off The Wall and Shook It til It Broke.
All over the living room like a giant egg yoke.
Picture if you will, a man moving with the comic abandon of Robin Williams in The Birdcage (Twyla, Twyla, Twyla . . .) and the desperate, corn-fed, clumsiness of Elizabeth Berkely in Showgirls. With better tits.
My children alternated between being swept up in the enthusiasm and abject disgust. Didn't know a one year old had that in him, but he does. I've also gotten a nice glimpse of my daughter's future teen, "OMG Dad, what is wrong with you?!" face.
Still, at times my cheerful flabby flailing (like a sea cow at a rave, maybe? That image do anything for anyone?) managed to induce definite dance like movements. When they didn't have their backs turned to me, pretending to read.
Nice try. I KNOW you mutha fuckahs can't read. I mean, the Peanut has a good number of sight words, but ThE Waste Land? Yeah, right. I can't read that shit and I'm at nearly a 12th grade reading level
All in all, I feel much better than I thought I would. The endorphins are pumping, my energy level is up and my bod . . . oops. My groin just fell out.
P.S. I don't own a lot of good dance music, so if any one has suggestions, I welcome them. Stuff we (I) can sing along with at the same time would be much appreciated.