Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003

No, YOU are a Car Dancer

I am still at work. Except if you are my boss, in which case I am totally not. Actually, if my boss ever read this and knew it was me, so fired anyway.

I walked by this street graffiti by the Gap today that said

Hail Hilfiger!

Good message. Political. Punchy. Catchy. Except Tommy Hilfiger totally does not work at the Gap. And, unfortunately, the graffiti artist included a stick figure doing the Hitler salute next to it. But it really looked like a stick figure with a head of broccoli coming out of his nose, which really hurt his message. Am I over-thinking this?

Rocked out repeatedly all day to new cd. I do appreciate the strangeness of the mix now. Some how it works for me. Had to struggle to keep from doing a little head bob. The result was me looking like I was in the throws of some sort of fit. I suspect my boss will speak to me about whatever medical condition I might have that could cause these types of seizures. It would help if I could dance. But I really canít even though I often am in denial about that.

The only type of dancing I am good at is car dancing. Which is jamming around in your car attracting more attention than should be allowed from truckers on the freeway. I am exceptional at that. To the point that I think truckers know my license plate number. I just crank up the tunes, sing as loud as I can and fling my arms around.

I know, it IS a wonder I havenít had a wreck.

But white girls have to do some sort of dancing.

So if you see a blond in a silver Hyundai in your area wave hello.

6:02 p.m. :: comment ::
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