So I guess it turns out that what I thought was dancing is actually more closely related to NOT dancing. I am really pissed off too 'cause I have choreographed a lot of shit this year. You know that little number that busted out this afternoon downtown with the twirly jumps and spinny arm flairs? That was mine. I could have sworn that it was dancing... hot, hot dancing with flippy kick jumps and poppy lock flips... but some dude told me it wasn't dancing, it was tripping over a street bench. Well, my critical companion, you may be a nationally reknown dance expert, or maybe you are a delivery man that just so happened to walk down 8th street when I danced my way back from lunch... (twice), but I will say one thing; I killed it today, bra! I killed that dance dead! And it will remain dead... 'cause it's been murdered killed, son.
iTouched
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