You know, I'm starting to become disappointed in some of my family and friends. Oh, and ya'll, too, readers. You all are just as guilty as the ones I know personally.
Now, let me explain again how this here thing works: We are in the circle of foolishness. That means if you know of something ign't, you share it with me. If some of ya'll can email me about promoting PETA, body spray, and Amerie scratching her head certainly you can keep me up with the latest dances.
I'm out here in Cali, folks. They don't dance. They two step and body roll after two over priced drinks 15 minutes before the club lets out at 12:45. That is, unless you're at a hood spot and quite frankly, I only go to hood spots if they're in my hood or in a hood I'm familiar with. I haven't reached that point with LA yet. I'm liable to get shot up by Barney and raped by Baby Bop for wearing the wrong shade of purple around here.
Besides, I jig, I'on (yes I'on) jerk. That means my people - particularly you, my southern brethren - have to keep me current. I can't keep calling my younger brother and niece for the scoop. If I ask my niece about all the new dances when I call her though she may tell me I have to maintain the image that education comes first. Well, first I tell her she's the most beautiful girl in the world and then I tell her to read a book. You get what I'm saying, though.
That said, this dance is "new" to me but not to Dallas, Houston and surrounding jiggable metropolitan areas. A friend from home told me about it last night on the phone. Naturally, as she was still talking I Googled "Party Boys Flex" and found the above video within seconds.
Search game proper.
Like the dances before it I see that it's essentially the movements of a retarded homosexual. Obviously, that doesn't bother me. I'm half way there anyway.
Upon further research (i.e. another quick Google search) I found the mp3. This song came out 8 days after my birthday....in April.
This would have been a perfect post-b-day gift. I'm about to send out a mass text message (including my mama, who informed me about the Halle Berry), but let me also remind each of you who enjoys this blog that we needn't let this happen again.
I am now 25. That means while I can still twirk (a few months ago a friend challenged me to a twirk off, she had body aches the next day) we don't know how long my knees are going to last. I messed them up a couple of years ago from running and haven't checked them out due to me losing health insurance in April.
Unless Obama and Congress get it together, my dreams of dropping it well into my 80s could be dashed. I have to make sure I live up to my prime jiggable years while I still have them.
So when you discover something new, you have to send it to me. I will forgive everyone this time, but don't let it happen again.
Now go think about what you've done...then go flex your guilt away.
