My Hips Don't Lie

Okay I just got home and am a bit drunk. Well maybe a bit tipsy. Or maybe a lot drunk. I am a cheap drunk. I had two long island iced teas and half a bottle of Heineken as I write this blog. There isn't a law against drinking and blogging is there? So read at your own risk, if you dare. Tomorrow, I plan to go spend a major part of my evening intoxicated and dancing at a bar, as I have not been dancing in a long time in rl. I can pretty much do most of the dances animated in sl dance intans in rl. I even performed on stage various types of dances and I miss dancing. So tomorrow I am going to let the rhythm get me and shake my sassy ass.

Tonight, I have been dancing in rl for the last two hours and entertained some friends. In the process, I almost lost my jeans as they got loose around my waist and was about to drop down to my feet sweeping the ground. I felt like Urkel trying to pull my jeans up my boobery (yes i make up words and am damn proud of it too, so deal with it). So here's a sample of a dialogue between my friend and me who was witnessing me dancing.

Friend: what's with your pants?
Me: They are falling down.
Friend: why?
Me: Maybe because the vahgine wants to stand up, wake up, stand up for its rights
Friend rolls around in laughter
Friend: You are a silly girl
Me: You are a silly girl. Your lineage is a silly girl. Your lineage's lineage is a silly girl
(Aside: It is important when you insult that you don't just insult a person but go for the person's entire lineage and more. Bring shame. A lot of it.)
Friend rolls around laughing
Me dances on singing along to Copacabana, Hips don't lie, pretending to be Lola and Shakira simultaneously.

I decided to spin around and make myself dizzy, purposely. My pants threatened to leave my waist again. Damn pants. I Urkeled myself out of the betraying pants as I continued to spin around to realize that I can do a lot of spins even though I am drunk and not fall over. Thanks to spotting techniques and hours of practice and muscle memory even though my neurons quit firing synaptic juices because of the alcohol I kept supplying them.

Finally, I realized how much I miss shaking my hips, ass, and everything else that wants to shake to the rhythm anyway. So tomorrow I dance. And tonight I dance too. And maybe the day after I might dance again. Let there be dance. Let there be shaking hips. Let there be hips that don't lie.