dance party...

if you know me, you know i'm prone to spontaneous dance parties. everywhere. anywhere. and not in that stupid shit girls say (uh, do you know about this? probably. it's perfect... except for when i'm secretly embarrassed because i say that shit all the time. even the really annoying ones) kind of way... in an honest-to-goddess-i've-got-to-dance-right-now-or-i-will-explode kind of way. cool my fire yearnin' honey, come set me free. this becomes especially precarious when i'm at work or a very hoighty toighty event... as it is not always a generally socially acceptable form of expression. wait, what? did i just say that? rewind. erase.

anywhoodle. on new year's eve i was at a party in the western addition with some folks i didn't know very well. i got myself all involved with this group because of swoony mcgee (who i'm not soooo swoony about at the mo'). we had agreed to spend the evening together and house-party hop. we only hopped once.

don't you know now

is the perfect time.

we can make it right 

hit the city lights.

just to make it right

in the night.

hit the lovin' spot

i'll give you all that i've got.

have you ever been to a party where you have to take your shoes off when you walk through the front door? ya. it's a scene from some episode of sex and the city, but it happened for real... on new year's eve. aren't we supposed to wear cute shoes to accent our outfits just so? alright y'all, i was wearing boots. and you know, if i'm wearing boots, i am not wearing matching socks. yup. that's me. nerd with the mis-matched socks on new year's eve, party of one. i'll take you there, i'll shake you there.

here are some bits of convos i overheard that night...

omg, you're shoes are soooooo cute. you totally got them at forever 21, riiiiiiight?! 

(oh, did i fail to mention that we all had to take our shoes off, but the hosts and hostess had their shoes on the entire night?!)

we should totally start a dance party right now.

please tell me we did not just run out of prosecco!

we should totally start like a full on dance party right now.

that girl's socks don't match. 

dance party!!!!!

that girl with the weird socks has a whole bottle of prosecco.

ugh.

pretty young things, repeat after me...

said girls were near me several times when they casually shrieked about having a dance party. hellooooooo dance party. 

*very important disclaimer... i went to art school thrice. dance school to be specific. i have a bfa and an mfa in dance and choreography. i say this not because i am tooting my horn about my skillz, but because, hi... i have spent close to all of the years of my life... dancing. spark my nature, sugar fly with me. so, mention dance party, and you can bet your buns, i'm there. dancing. and, yes... it helps that i've studied many forms of dance and have a pretty keen sense of my kinesthetic awareness and can hold a beat and drop it like it's hot and other various shit... i'm not an asshole, ya dig? i'm just trynna get my groove on... same as you.* 

o.m.g. not the case. when those girls said dance party, i said yaaaaaaaa! (waving my bottle of prosecco over my head). and when i started groovin' they turned their backs to me and shuffled off to the kitchen... left me dancing to p.y.t. all by myself. fine. have it your way then. where did you come from lady, and ooh won't you take me there.

i kept on dancing.

(i found some pretty rad texts the next morning in my outbox to jt...) let me take you to the max.

in the end, it was not the worst night... even though it doesn't sound like it from this post. i was out. there were sparklers. a couple of good smooches. and i made some awesome voice recordings of swoony mcgee (we should find a new name for him) and his pal from alaska.

hey 2012. i've been waiting all year for you. welcome.

twinkle from here and nails from here. the words are michael jackson's. obvi. pyt.