Shiny Piece of Tinfoil
First off, she lied to me.
When I say first off I mean pretty early on. The first words out of her mouth to me weren't a lie, they were probably something along the lines of "Hi, I'm L----. Nice to meet you." But her first substantial words to me were a bald-faced lie.
"You're a really good dancer," she said.
Now, I know. I know that I'm not a good dancer. And it's not that I'm saying "I know" when I really think that I can dance and am just being modest. There may have been a time when I was under that impression, and I flailed and grooved like I was cool-on-wheels, whatever that is. But then I caught myself in a mirror through low-lidded eyes, and what I pictured inside my head obviously had a severe disconnection from what was going on in the mirror, and it couldn't just be explained by the fact that everything was reversed in the mirror. So I knew.
But there she was, anyway, telling me I was a really good dancer. I probably gave a few arm wiggles, a couple shoulder dips to test her belief in that statement, to be honest, I can't remember all that clearly. I think it was the shock.
"Thanks," I said. She was, is, beautiful. She had lovely blue eyes. She was very sexy, if tall, thin, but not too thin, with a long lovely neck, and just a killer body is sexy to you. You never know, it takes all kinds. And she, unlike me, could dance.
It was like finding one shiny piece of tinfoil on the dance floor, at the end of the evening, when everything is dirty and grey when the lights have come back on. And in the reflection of that shiny piece of tinfoil, apparently, moreso than the mirror, I can dance.
Summary
disclaimer:
Okay, kids, you can breath easy, now. We're back, next week.
We hope you had a restful vacation, and are back and ready to rock and roll! Woo!
Next week. So keep it in, brother. Keep. It. In. Right on.
Discuss this in the forums
Discuss the horoscopes in the forums
Forum hosting provided by forumthing.