<editorsnote>Hi, I'm Jen Friel, and we here at TNTML examine the lives of nerds outside of the basements and into the social media, and dating world. We have over 75 peeps that write about their life in real time. (Real nerds, real time, real deal.) Sit back, relax, and enjoy some of the stories!!</editorsnote>
No, it's not Shady. Although, not that there'd be anything wrong with that. Dude, I would do so so so many bad things to Eminem. Like for real, I would tear his shit uppppppppp.
Whew. Pardon ... hormones started talking. Wait, when did they ever stop talking? I digress ...
Looky looky what was just posted on my Facebook wall:
HAHAHAHAHAHA omg omg omg DOUBLE DREAM HANDS IS BACK!!!!!
Watch ... this one is in fact even catchier ... like giardiasis ...
I can’t dance. And I’m not afraid to admit it (well, now, at least).
Back in the day, I remember dreading the 8th grade dance. I begrudgingly went because it was the “cool” thing to do but I spent half the time just sitting on the sidelines -chatting, talking, making jokes with the other kids- ANYTHING to stay away from showing my utter lack of rhythm and coordination. When I was dragged on to the dance floor and into a circle, I merely tried to copy what my friends were doing for 3 seconds and then would suddenly need to go to the bathroom or get a drink or something, anything to keep me off the floor. And this is how every dance went up until I was done with the misery of high school. Ugh. It still makes me sweaty today just thinking about it.
But today, I fully accept who I am as a dancer. I’m the one on the floor be-popping to my own beat, arms flailing about, bumping into others and really really trying my best. No one ever dances with me but I’m there and I ‘m trying. I still don’t like to dance but I do it and when I do it, I reach for the stars. Just like this:
Tuesday, April 26, 2011 at 12:42PM
