It Came To Me In a Dream

Last night I couldn't sleep at all. I'm guessing that had a lot to do with the fact that I had about five energy drinks in a futile attempt to be energetic during my waking/socializing hours. I did an Arizona RX/Sugar Free Red Bull system and it didn't kick in until waaayy late. I stared at my ceiling for about three hours thinking about a million weird things, and I fell asleep for about two hours total (maximum), but that was weird half awake sleep. This isn't exciting at all- except for the amazing groggy dream I kept having. Actually, it was more like a clear prophetic vision.

I was basically living in The Grind: Hip Hop Aerobics. If you don't remember this, you are whack.

Eric Nies basically humps air with no shirt on and teaches you illicit dances while you get in shape. This is just like Flirty Girl Fitness but for all sluts and not just aging housewives trying to spice up their marriages or ladies strip teasin' for their man. It also features a very high Zumba factor which automatically increases the value of any product (or human being for that matter). Zumbas are the guitar solo of pants.

Anyway! When I was in 6th or 7th grade my mom bought me TGHHA (Awesome) on VHS as some kind of a sick joke. First of all, at this point my mom was still trying to tell me what to wear, which in her mind only consisted of body suits and high waisted, tight ass jeans in the brightest clown colors imaginable. I had buck teeth, a thumbs-in-belt loops problem, and I was not allowed to watch MTV at all. In fact, I wasn't allowed to watch VH1 either. I had no idea what was cool, and I read a lot of young adult novels about horses. I was a major fuck up.

When you treat a child in this way, and then hand them a brightly colored neon box with a ripped to shreds Eric Nies grinding, it's like handing them a box of projected sex appeal and coolness. I figured Eric was probably cool, and anything from MTV had to be okay... even if it was four years old. I thought I was going to get into sick shape, grow huge boobs, learn some amazing moves, and completely impress Aaron Gierada at the activity night, to make up for him finding the secret love letter I wrote in which I described him as a cuddly teddy bear. Once he saw me doing the worm with my giant grind-grown boobs, he would stop making copies of the note and want to hold my hand forever.

What ended up happening is a big more tragic. Unfortunately all the zumbas and Eric Nies saying "That's Niiiiiccceeee" in the world can't transform an awkward 12 year old into an amazing sexy dancing middle schooler. It, instead, turned me into a person who was grinding alone in the basement with her thumbs through belt loops and a southwestern print body suit and purple jeans on. Equally unfortunate is the fact that The Grind is still the most formal dance training I have, save a tap dance class when I was about 5 and the time I lied to my best friend about being in a Backstreet Boys dance class (yep) so if I were to unleash my tremendous moves, I'd probably revert to the belt loop air humping.

Maybe the most amazing thing about this is that I thought I was grinding to perfection. This is similar to the way Roundhouse made me feel that I could break dance. So confidently, in fact, that I said "Dad, check this out" and I was breakin', which I think was more of me rolling around on the ground almost knocking over my mom's weird knick-knacks.

The most upsetting part about my prophetic visions of my grind future is that I have searched somewhat tirelessly for clips (or, god willing, a full version) of my video, but it's nowhere to be found! I'm going to have to go dig some stuff up at my Mom's house. Maybe I'll buy Darren's Dance Grooves and update my skills. I think I could probably make more friends if I could pop and lock.