Name: La Nina
I'm a Jersey girl without the big hair or the accent (well, most of the time anyway), but with all of the bad driving and the penchant for weekly manicures.
Oh, and I'm an interior design student. That's how all of the weird terminology comes into play.
Bring on the revolving dance floor.
Madonna once said "Only when I'm dancing can I feel this free." Well, I feel free to use every style of dancing I've ever been taught in my 30 years on this planet, from my early ballet/tap/jazz combo to the social dance lessons in high school gym class to the mosh pits I would sneak out of the house to participate in to the cheerleading halftime shows we choreographed to Technotronic. So I get out there and say to myself "Let's see, a little mambo here, couple of shakes there, throw in a little watusi, toss your hair about, end it with the pogo, and voila! Freak on the dance floor." I'd like to think that I have better rhythm than Elaine Benes or David Brent (pics below), but I'm definitely just as all over the place.
After (sadly, both of these represent me)
Ryan, poor lamb, does his best to keep up with me, and he's done better than any other dance partner I've had so far. We're still working out the partner dances since he doesn't really know them and I have this problem where I always have to lead. (It's a bigger problem than you'd think.)
We must do okay though, since one of the groomsmen who neither of us had met before made a special point to tell us that we "tear up the dance floor." Um, at least I think that's a compliment. Then again, this is coming from a guy who just came off of a spot-on karaoke of Baby Got Back.
Lesson to be learned: if you see me coming to a dance hall near you, just get out of the way for your own personal safety.
By now, you're probably wondering where the tongue part of this entry is.
There you go.
posted by La Nina @ 1:55 PM