How to Avoid Accidentally Getting Into a Dance-Off
Let me begin by saying that I would never intentionally get into a dance-off.
However, let it also be known that one time I was talked by a group of friends into a dance competition. Which we won.
So please, for the less danceworthy out there, let this post be a warning to you. Because let me tell you from experience, that a dance-off is a little scary.
And yeah, a dance-off is weird. However, it's important for everyone to read and understand the warning signs of an impending dance-off. Because getting into an unintended dance-off can have disastrous consequences . . . especially if you lose.
TOP TIPS FOR AVOIDING A DANCE-OFF
First, avoid alcohol as much as possible. Alcohol fuels testosterone, braggadocio, thinking you're better at stuff than you actually are, and really dumb ideas.
Second, remember that girls are worth doing a lot stupid things for. I've done them and I understand this. But a dance-off is a stupid thing you shouldn't actually do because it will often make a girl less likely to want to sleep with you.
Third, come up with some pre-designed witty one-liners to throw potential dance-off opponents off-guard. My favorite: "Hey, what's that thing on your shoe?" and then when they look down, slip away. See? Witty.
Fourth, have a walk-away move prepared. A move that can also be used to bring the house down. (more on this below) Or one that hopefully, can be used to walk away. Something that's a diss only because it's, like, totally dismissive.
And now, because you've been good readers all season long while putting up with some meandering, slightly pointless posts**, here's...
**I blame lack of sleep.
THE DANCE-OFF STORY
I'm at a bar. A chick-- ultimately unimportant (ie-got none)-- digs me, I dig her. I invite her to dance. She accepts. We begin to dance. Sensually and in a looking-good-for-Atlas'-penis way.
Then this sweaty a-hole on the dance floor, played by a fuglified Jay Hernandez just happy for the work, throws me off my game by continually bumping into me, and everyone else. When I quietly ask him to calm down: "Dude, would you mind taking it down a couple notches, there's not much room out here to dance, ya know?"
Almost as soon as a I did it, I knew it was the wrong thing to do, because Not Jay HernandeZ looked pissed that I was anything less than impressed with his dancing "skillz". But instead of fighting me (because I was bigger than him, and stronger, and younger, and better-looking) he was like "whasssup, homie, let's go" and did a stupid dance move than ended in him pretending to flick my shoulders. Or something.
Now, I shouldn't have responded, but I rolled my eyes so hard my head went a little bit over, too. So he issues this taunt: "Come on, white boy, that all you got?"
"No biyotch," I say, "Haven't even gotten started yet...." And then, because I was very inebriated, I proceeded to very thoroughly get the crowd on my side ("Go white boy! Go white boy!") while proving that just because you aren't white or Asian, doesn't mean you can dance.
When the dance-off began the music was funky Latin-infused house, not a specialty of mine, but I can groove it. Then, it transitioned into some truly bangin' hip-hop. That, my friends, was when I owned the a$$ of Not Jay HernandeZ. See, I've lived in some tough neighborhoods in LA during my poorer years, including South-Central (and not just on the USC campus) and Koreatown (five years ago, before it even had veneer of cool). Plus, as many of you may know, I do love me some hip-hop.
And once some Jay-Z kicked in, I laid done my patented hip-shakey-thrust groove. It was a nice riff on Latin Shakira-esque hip-shaking charged with kinectic whiteboy energy. The crowd really loved that-- it was then that the audience had decided I was definitively going to win the contest, I think.
But here's how Not Jay HernandeZ really lost it-- he was so drunk, he flung himself into some spectators who'd turned around to create a circle. And one was a girl and her boyfriend looked kinda pissed. There were a lot of head shakes after that one.
I finished him off with my patented end-all move, which involves me quite improbably moving an imaginary ball around on my shoulders and arms, then slamming it into Not Jay HernandeZ's head (he flinched). It's a neat trick and it seems to work.
I'm just glad I won. And glad that for forever and ever, Not Jay HernandeZ will be my biyotch.
TECHNORATI TAGS: Club, clubbing, Nightlife, Miami, Party, dance-off tips