Fresh Baked

Saturday, February 05, 2005

The Dance-off Begins in 11 Minutes

Hello? Guys? Is it still spinning? I mean, I know Earth spins, but... it's not spinning as fast as it was on Friday night, is it? No? Okay... phew.

Ooof.

Friday night was a great one. Early Saturday morning (and most of Saturday, actually) was not. Because perhaps better than a house warming is the house cooling; a party where your sole purpose is to drink because alcohol is too heavy to move. Leo and Dem, soon to be Home Owners (go escrow!), had us up for the evening to help out in the kicking o' the bottle. Let's begin, shall we?


Sharla, our Number One (#1!!) Jam girl was in the hizzy! Knox Knox jokes abound!

(Drink!)


And she just happened to have posters! With which she could point out the Fraudulent Jam (hello, the name of my next band) girls who are a disgrace to the uniform.

(Drink! Drink!!)

But not so many posters that she could go on signing all night. No. Who would get them would be decided with a dance off. Guys! A Dance Off!!


Now, I may need some help here... See, I don't actually remember their being a dance off. I remember Sharla checking the clock and declaring it starting in 11 minutes. I remember Leo and I started stretching. And then I got another re-fill. But there was no Girls Just Want to Have Fun-type competition. But when I hear 'Dance off' there is no controlling myself. I must perform!!


I also had some sly spin and slide moves that were not captured on film. And if that's not enough! There was a mighty engagement in 80s theme songs and movies. Demonstrations of proper Cobra Kai Dojo conduct were provided. Fear does not exist in this dojo, does it?

(Drink! Drink!! Drink!!)


So, being as I was the drunk obnox, and as I made an ass of myself as often as possible, I got an autographed poster-- I'm so honored!

Other things of note: There was an ill-advised shot of vodka had. Eia told me later that the minute she saw me take it she knew I would be sick. Umm... she was right. Also, I got my Merry Jingle present at the end of the night when Dem and I had a conversation in Spanish, or what probably passed for Spanish after too much Jack Daniels. AND! There was a brief video made of Jack and his clapping talents. But, as I care for my life, it will not be shown here. That, my friends, is restraint.


This bitch is cooled.