Me and my fat mouth. So, long story short, I ended up agreeing to taking a swing class. Why? Because I'm an idiot. Not that I hold no interest in learning to swing dance, I've always wanted to take the time to learn it, but I just don't think I would have gone out of my way to take a lesson. Heck, I've had people try to teach it to me before, but I'm pretty sure I hospitalized two out of the three that have attempted to do so.
But, apparently all it takes for my brain to stop functioning is the mere thought of a tall redhead. I should just break my foot and find an excuse to get it out of it now, because I'd hate to hospitalize someone that cute. I can't really complain though, I'm sure it'll not only be good for me, but perhaps there's way I can use swing for evil, or at least it's something for me to do on the weekends rather than just sit on my fat butt, writing on a no-name blog in the wee hours of the night.
In other news, it's the birthday of a good friend of mine, and I hope you stop tripping over being 27, because your lamentations are lost on all of us that have already reached that point. Oh, and Happy Birthday, buddy.
But, apparently all it takes for my brain to stop functioning is the mere thought of a tall redhead. I should just break my foot and find an excuse to get it out of it now, because I'd hate to hospitalize someone that cute. I can't really complain though, I'm sure it'll not only be good for me, but perhaps there's way I can use swing for evil, or at least it's something for me to do on the weekends rather than just sit on my fat butt, writing on a no-name blog in the wee hours of the night.
In other news, it's the birthday of a good friend of mine, and I hope you stop tripping over being 27, because your lamentations are lost on all of us that have already reached that point. Oh, and Happy Birthday, buddy.
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