Dancing in uniform
There’s a lot that can be said about boys from New Zealand. Yes, you read correctly, BOYS – the majority of the male kiwis I’ve met so far excluding the ones from work are under the age of 30 and so essentially boys (not men) in my books. Anyway, the point of this is to talk about how the boys from New Zealand dance. These boys can dance their pants off with the best of them. There’s no pathetic white man overbite…no creeping up behind you with a sad attempt at a pick up…no laughable side step maneuver. There’s just dancing from the jocks to the nerds looking to groove. I have to say that I find it impressive to say the least.
So last night, my twin from another mother and I went on a mission to dance our pants off. And dance we did. It was a good time if you exclude the half hour where I had a German youngster on me like a cancerous growth before he finally clued in and went away – I should have broken out the line, “I’m old enough to be your mother kid” but I just wanted to dance and taking the time to school him would have been a huge annoyance.
By the time we hit the last dance floor around 4am my feet arched and I was exhausted. I was content with just sitting on the sidelines watching the crowd but unfortunately a creepy old dude (old as in the grandfather range) decided to harass us so it was safer to hit the dance floor once again. It was on this dance floor that we met NZ Army and his buddy. NZ Army turned out to be a Monet but his buddy was a riot. With the amount he had me spinning and twirling around the dance floor – I forget how much my feet were arching and just enjoyed dancing in the wee hours of the morning. This morning, I’ve come to the conclusion that next time that I decide to dance my pants off, I’ll be smart enough not to wear heels and make sure I get enough rest for a cardio-intense night!
LEFT TURN AHEAD 