Thanks to Melly, I now know that Jada Pinkett is in a band.
I think "something inside of her is pissed." But I'm not too sure because I was too busy laughing hysterically to understand the lyrics.
HAHA. She thinks she can sing.
And that she is "hard core."
And that The Internet isn't laughing at her.
Man, I love Celebrities.
But not as much as I love my Aerobic Dance class.
Last week, I had an appointment with a dermatolgist to see if he could figure out with the HELL is going on with my skin (Confession: Doc put me on antibiotics for the Bloody Rash, but, um, you know how G-Unit is still Partaking of The Bobs? Yeah, well, I'd rather deal with The Rash then with a Toddler crying for The Bobs.) and I cancelled that appointment because it was at 6:00, which happens to be the same time as my dance class.
I thought about skipping class and going to my appointment, but, then, I closed my eyes and could hear my instructor, in her beautiful russian accent shouting "MORE HEEEP, MOVE YOUR HEEEPS!" and I was like "There are hip thrusts and pelvic grinds to be learned tonight! Bloody rash can wait!!"
I do believe I am officially "obsessed" with my dance class. I think about it all of the time. I pratice the moves for my family (which, can an aspiring aerobic dancer GET A LITTLE RESPECT? All of the eye rolling and "Ok mom, we get it, you learned a new dance." and the "HAHAHA, that's a dumb move" comments aren't necessary. Don't hate me because I'm an aerobic dancer.)
My obsession with dance class may or may not have something to do with the instructors buttocks. They are perfect. They are bubbly and soft, completely Lump Free and just... mmmmmm...Perfect. I've been known to stare at them during the "floor exercise" portion of class. If her 'Tocks could talk, I'm pretty sure they would tell me that I was making them uncomfortable and that if I didn't stop looking at them as though I wanted smother them in BBQ sauce and throw them on the grill, they may very well have to get a restraining order.
Grilled Buttocks... it's what's for dinner!
This is the way the class works. Every Friday night, she teaches a new style of dance. Then, she continues that dance on the Monday and Wednesday night class. So far, we've done Riverdance (HELLOOO Bouncies Titties!), Salsa (Discovering your "White" is more more dominant than your "Mexican" in front of complete strangers is great fun!) Jazz (NAILED IT) Hip Hop (Nailed it. Because thrusting hips is My Thang) And this week? It's Funky (There's a move called "The Monkey." HAHA. I laugh through most of this one. Which, also means, I Rip'Em too. Which, means, I laugh even more because HAHA I farted doing The Monkey.")
Do you see why I LOVE this class. We do "The Monkey"! And I fart freely! Without fear of judgement! Because, how could anyone know it was me, what, with all of the fans blowing! Seriously. It's like I'm at a bar and the bartender is all "FREE DRINKS FOR YOU!" Only, I'm at a gym, and there are no drinks and the only thing that's free is the air that I just expelled from my ass. But, you know what I meant, right?
Oh my God, I'm so excited just talking about it that my mouth is watering excessively. I need to swallow.
I'll end this by sharing something with you that has nothing to do with my dance class whatsoever.
The other day, I "happened" to come across a list of symptoms of "colon cancer". (Don't ask. I won't tell.) One of the symptoms was "Your stool is thinner than usual". I wish to GOD I had never read that because, well, let's just say I'm obsessing over the "width" of my stool.
And let me just say, I'm convinced it's "thinner than usual" and well, how do I bring THAT one up to The Doc?
I should have ended it with something dance class related, no?
Re: the rash- if they say this word to you INTERTRIGO give me a call. Battled it for months and finally (3 docs later) got over it. Painful.
Re: the stool. HAVE A COLONOSCOPY. My babe, a 37 year old mother of three had colon cancer. It happens, don't take chances. Early detection is key.
God, what a humorless comment. ick.