Is this Aerobic Dance class or kickboxing? WTF?

Hey, lady. Ever heard of a little thing called "personal space?"

Um, doing a "hop" at the end of The Grapevine does not make "cool", so please stop doing it.

Who sharted?

No. Seriously. WHO SHARTED?

Who forgot their deodorant?

I WILL CUT YOU.

What's with all of the Grapevines?

Niiiiiice buttocks.

Oh no she di'int.

Grandma, please.

Ha ha ha ha. QUEEFER.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmm hummus and pita chips with wine.

When are we doing some pelvic thrusts, dude? ENOUGH WITH THE GRAPEVINES.

Ok. Your hand just brushed up against my arm and I am trying to be nice, but WHY DO YOU INSIST ON BEING ALL UP ON MY JOCK?

Dumbest.Moves.Ever.

Two can play this game, heffer.

Whoops! Did my hand just hit the back of your head? I'm sorry, but if you weren't all up IN MY PERSONAL SPACE, that might not have happened.

I hate to be cocky, but damn, my Bunny Hop was off the CHAIN.

Bean dip.

Is it over yet?

God.

Last night was The Second Return to Aerobic Dance Class.

You see, I had been avoiding it since the night that I had decided it would be a great idea to wear a thong to class.

I always wear my granny panties to class, because they are comfortable and I want to be comfortable when I'm doing great moves, such as The Monkey. Here's the thing. My Aerobic Dance instructor is adorable and I love her and I secretly want to be just like her, Russian accent and all.

The other night, I got the crazy idea to be just like Anna and NOT wear granny panties, but instead, to wear the ONE thong that I own. (Which, haha, is about a whole size too small.) I was all "I want to be sexy when I'm bending over during the stretches just like Anna!"

About 5 minutes into the dance (which happened to be "The Latin Dance".) I realized that I had made a huge mistake by wearing the thong to dance class. The first time that I took a step, my ass opened up and swollwed that thing WHOLE and OMG! PAIN! EMBARASSMENT! SHAME! But mostly... PAIN!"

All I could think about was how obvious it must have been to everyone behind me that my ass had eaten my thong and I couldn't think about anything but "the missing thong." I was trying to get into the dance, to be one with the dance, to let my aerobic dance greateness shine through like it always does, but I couldn't stop thinking about the stupid thong. Anna would be all "Mambo!" and I would be all "SHIT! THONG! UP MY ASS! CAN'T.MOVE!"

I may as well have worn a blinking sign on my ass that night.

THONG FEAST IN PROGRESS. HAHA PRETEND YOU DON'T NOTICE. THANK YOU..

(Oh Em Gee, is she avoiding talking about her previous entry? I think she is!)

That was the first time that I did not enjoy an aerobic dance class. The first time that I almost faked getting injured so that I could leave class early. The first time that I walked out saying "I'LL NEVER GO BACK AGAIN!"

(Oh, so hilarious when I get all cinematically dramatic about aerobic dance class.)

God, that sounds so dumb. Vowing to never do something that I love so much because my ass decided to "chew a little fiber", wounding my precious crack and quite possibly my pride. But? I hadn't gone back since that class.

Until last night.

Do I need to tell you that I didn't wear a thong, but, rather, a very large pair of pale blue cotton panties that have pictures of "water wells" scattered about?

When Anna saw me, she asked me where I had been for all of these weeks, because she's missed me "so much." I thought about it for a second. "UM, how do I tell this women that I haven't been here because I was humiliated when the thong that I wore in a lame attempt to be just like her, was viciously chewed up and swallowed by my buttocks?"

"I've just been lazy." I blurted out.

"Oh, don't be lazy! Come! Dance! I need you here."

(Oh my God! She needs me! Anna needs me!)

And then, she did the greatest thing that anyone has done for me in like 4 whole days and said "Well, I'm happy you're here! Tonight, we do The Dirty Dance.

My God, I love that woman.

But not as much as I love thrusting my hips to a beautiful melody and "Then you roll your tongue, from the crack back to the front" blasting from the speakers.

On Wednesday night, whilst doing the aerobic dirty dance, The Aerobic Dance Instructor gave me the ultimate compliment.

"So perfect, Y. I must take picture because it's so perfect."

I believed her when she said it and left the class swollen with pride and cockiness. I came home and told Tony "I think my instructor REALLY loves having me in her class, because I keep up with her and know all the moves."

Ummm...

After watching myself do The Dirty Dance on video, I'm PRETTY DAMN SURE that her compliment wasn't sincere and that she was secretly mocking me, knowing that compliments only encourage me to "try even harder" and "take the dance even more seriously than I already do, which TRUST ME, is VERY seriously."

I wish I could tell you that "Haha, I just have fun with it and don't take it seriously at all." But, the faces that I make whilst spanking the air would prove that to be A LIE.

LIIIIIEEEEEEESSSSS.

(There may be a subliminal message hidden somewhere in the video and that subliminal message may very well be "Look! I wasn't lying when I said that I gained 10 pounds back, except it was actually TWELVE POUNDS, but hey, I've lost 5 of the twelve, thank you Aerobic Dancing.)

Thank you all so much for the birthday wishes. Honestly? (Which, honestly? Is my new favorite word. And, honestly? It bugs the ever living crap out of my husband. But, honestly? The fact that it irritates me makes me want to use it all of the time because honestly? I'm a brat.) The birthday wishes that you all left here for me was my second favorite part of turning THIRTY FIVE. The best and most favorite part was the birthday card/present that my husband gave me in which he misspelled the word "beautiful."

I swear. I love that man a little more everytime he tries to be "Romantic". (And I use the word "tries" VERY LOOSELY.)

Honestly.

The truth is, I was feeling rather panicky and scared about turning 35. "Thirty five? That's only FIVE away from forty! FORTY! OH MY GOD! My life is half over and I'm still renting a house and... fat! And OMG! I'll never be young and pretty again!"

Those were the kinds of thoughts that were running through my head the night before I turned 35. Then, I read the most beautiful comment from The Beautiful Grace and everything changed.

Please, dollin, you're not old. 105 is old. Anyone younger than that has a chance for growth, pleasure and love.

Love your age, dear Y. It's who we are.

Trust me on this, Joy Readers. I speak from the vantage point of my happy, upbeat 51 year old self.

Those words gave me comfort and hope. Yes, HOPE! Because, you know how I tend to be "Dramatic"? I honestly (HONESTLY!) was feeling as though my life were almost over because...THIRTY FIVE! But after reading that comment, I tried to change my way of thinking. I kept repeating "105 is old! You're only 35! You're not old! Have fun! Enjoy life, you young thang, you!" I was like "Screw this I'm old crap! I'm going to LIVE LIFE TO THE FULLEST!"

To some people, that might mean "signing up to jump out of an airplane" or "go swimming with dolphins" but to me? It meant "Time to start eating fruit and get back to the gym!" So, I put on my stretchy yoga pants, I doubled up my sports bras, grabbed me a cup of that healthy stuff called "water" and headed for Aerobic Dance Class.

On the way there, I was positively motivated and feeling like "This is going to be The Year."

The year I get healthy. The year I make peace with my body. For good. The year that I become a better mother. The year that I learn to forgive. The year that I let it all go.

Also? The year that I reclaim my title as The Greatest Aerobic Dancer to Have Ever Danced Aerobically.

I arrived to the gym to find out that Bitchy Step Class Wimmins had won and that the schedule was changed to accommidate their needs and wishes. If I sound bitter in saying that, your ears do not decieve you. I am bitter. Bitter that they got their way, bitter that because of them, I have to wait until 7:45pm to Dance Aerobically, bitter that "Steppers" have more "pull" then the "Aerobic Dancers." I'm bitter that the woman who started the whole "we should change the schedule to better fit MY NEEDS" didn't even show up to the damn class. I'M BITTER ABOUT ALL OF IT, MAN.

Whoa.

When the sculpting class was over, I excitedly made my way to the front of the class and waited for Anna The Instructor to acknowledge my presence. (I admit it, I LIVE for her acknowledgment.) She did and then, she acknowledged my desire to "live life to the fullest" by announcing that "tonight, we will do The Dirty Dance."

THE DIRTY DANCE, PEOPLE.

I was in a state of "I'm so excited that my mouth is watering uncontrollably" for a good minute and a half, but then, I looked around the room and was like "OMG! I'm going to dirty dance with THESE WOMEN?"

Now, I don't mean that in a judgemental way, I mean that in a "How am I going to be able to dance dirtly and sexily with women wearing spandex shorts and HEADBANDS?" And honestly? I was wearing a gray shirt with the word "EVERLAST" written in giant letters across my chest. Not the greatest attire to get one in the mood to Dance Dirty.

Still, I was more excited than one should be at the prospect of doing The Dirty Dance in the aerobics room at a cheesy little gym.

At first, it felt a little ackward. Touching my body whilst doing hops and hip thrusts in a room full of strangers in spandex is just... weird. But, after a few minutes, I started concentrating on the music and how it felt to move my body in that way and I really got into it.

I should be embarrassed to admit this, but there was a moment where I was bent over, running my hands up my thighs where I got a little choked up. I closed my eyes and let myself really get into the movement and I started to feel in tune with my body in a way that I never had and I could feel the tears welling up inside of me and was like "OMG Y NO! DO NOT CRY IN AEROBIC DANCE CLASS FOR THAT IS BEYOND DUMB AND JUST STOP THIS CHEESY CRAP RIGHT THIS MINUTE" and that was the EXACT MOMENT where I heard the words "Lick my pussy and my crack" and the love for my body that I felt inside of my soul vanished and was replaced with "OMG'S" and "HAHAH'S" Because OH MY GOD. AND HA HA HA!"

You see, Anna The Instructor is from Russia. She came to America only 9 months ago and didn't know any English at all. She can speak it, but very broken and she has a hard time understanding many words. So, when I heard the Unedited version of This Song (OMG! THAT SONG!) blasting out of the speakers, I couldn't help but think "Does she know what they're saying? And that there are women here who will possibly be offended? "

I was NOT offended. Infact, I was the OPPOSITE of offended, if there is such a thing. I was like "THIS IS THE GREATEST THING TO HAVE EVER HAPPENED IN DANCE AEROBICS. Even better than The Dance Off because I was rubbing my legs and thrusting my hips whilst doing a "spanking" motion** to a song in which a woman is all My neck, my back lick my "OMG" and my "HAHA!".

I wish you all could have been there. I'm telling you, it was awesome, people. Totally, purely, most defininetly AWESOME. I don't know how I lived my life without this class for three entire months.

**I'm charging the batteries to my camera as I type this so that I can record myself doing That Move because HOLY CRAP! Air Spanking is dirt-ay!? I just hope I can get up the nerve to actually POST the footage because not sure that I want The Internet to see ALL OF THIS doing ALL OF THAT.

Last night was The Return to Aerobic Dance Class.

I was told that the class started at 6:00, so in order to make sure to get "My Spot", I arrived a half hour early. My cousin arrived at the same time. She also takes her Aerobic Dance very seriously.

Once we got inside, we took a look at the schedule and realised that the class was at 7:00! Not 6:00! My cousin was all "Well, we could workout while we're waiting, lift some weights and stuff."

I offered a completely different suggestion.

"True, true, we could do that, and we probably SHOULD do that, but, and hear me out on this, we could go get a smoothie!"

At first she looked at me like "Ho! We are trying to get in shape and lose weight (and by "we", I totally mean "ME" because she doesn't have an ounce of fat on her body.) and getting smoothies before Aerobic Dance is kinda dumb because we don't be needin' all of that sugar!" But then, she was all "Sure, why not."

Well, a "Smoothie" turned into a "Chicken sandwich from ChickFilA."

(I hadn't eaten dinner. DO NOT JUDGE ME.)

When we got back, Anna was waiting by the door. I wanted to run up to her and throw myself upon her to thank her for returning from Russia because OH.MY.GOD, how I've missed her and her sweet buttocks moves.

Instead, I just told her how happy I was to see her and how much I missed her over the summer. She told me that had been back for a month and that everytime she'd come to class, she was hoping I'd be there because (OMG!) She missed me. At that point, I had to refrain from spitting when I talked to her because I was so damn excited that my mouth was watering in an uncontrollable way.

The step class FINALLY ended and me and my cousin practically knocked bitches down trying to be the first ones in so that we could get our places at the front of the room.

We were "greeted" (but actually more like "ATTACKED") by the Bitchy Step Class Wimmins. They were all "So, um, like we were thinking that we could do the sculpting class before the dance class because, like, we want to do sculpting now and if you have dance first, then we'll have to wait until AFTER the dance class to do sculpting and like, we don't want to wait and like, we also don't want to take the dance class, so it just makes like, the most sense to switch the classes and like, we can all do sculpt class together and like, then you can totally do dance class!"

I was all like "UM, HELL NAW ON THAT."

I was in the mood to fight and was getting ready to go off when
Crazy Ass Lady In All Black lost her shit. "I DON'T FUCKING THINK SO. You can't be changing the schedule because it's convenient for you."

The Bitchy Step Class Wimmins weren't expecting that response. No one knew what to say, until finally, a "Spokeswimmin" from the group emerged and It.Was.On.

Representative of the Step Class Bitches: "Well, hey we don't want to wait and it just makes sense. Don't be getting an attitude with me, lady."

Crazy Ass Lady In All Black: "You're not in charge here, you guys don't have the power to change the schedule whenever it suits you. Screw that!"

Representative of the Step Class Bitches: "We didn't think it'd be a big deal, calm down!"

Crazy Ass Lady In All Black: "Why don't you get a job?"

Representative of the Step Class Bitches: "Excuse me? GET A JOB?

Crazy Ass Lady In All Black: "Yeah, you heard me right. GET A JOB IF YOU WANT TO BE THE BOSS, BECAUSE YOU SURE AS HELL AREN'T THE BOSS OF ME."

OH SNAPS

Representative of the Step Class Bitches didn't have a comeback, so she was all "Um... yeah, well... um, I bet YOU make a sucky boss!!"

At which point I lost it and started laughing hysterically because HAHHAHAHAHA WIMMINS BE FIGHTING ON THE AEROBIC DANCE FLOOR HAHAHHAHAHA.

Part of me wanted to interrupt and be like "Hey, why don't we channel all of this anger and hatred into something more positive, something like An Aerobic Dance Off!!! but then, part of me was hoping it would escalate and there'd be a full on brawl because HAHAHHAHAH OLD WIMMINS IN SPANDEX FIGHTING AT THE GYM!!

Sadly, there was no dance off nor were any punches thrown as Representative of the Step Class Bitches had her ass handed to her in the War of Words and slowly backed out of the class.

Once the screaming match was over and everyone had composed themselves, Anna announced that we would not be doing "The Dirty Dance" until another night.

What? The Dirty Dance?!

Apparently, the week before, she did The Dirty Dance! And I missed it! She said that it was like "You know, how you say, Stripper moves?"

She made me a promise to teach The Dirty Dance again very soon. Oh, I can't wait to record THAT DANCE for you.

The dance class itself was great. We did The Latin and this time? I nailed it. However, at one point during the class, I made the mistake of looking at myself in the mirror. I could see the fat jiggling on my arms and OH MY GOD, I've gained so much weight! My once semi toned arms and now lumpy chunks of fat. I became disgusted with what I saw and I wanted to run out of there and hide.

But! I didn't! I kept going! As much as I wanted to quit and give into the ugly voices in my head, I didn't. I mambo'ed and cha cha cha'ed my way through the class and at the end, I felt so proud of myself for getting back in the game, even though I'd much rather be curled up in a ball on the couch eating chocolate covered pretzels.

I was getting ready for Aerobic Dance class when a little voice reminded me of the sign I saw the last time that I was at the gym. The sign said "There will be a new class schedule as of June 1." I thought I should call the gym to make sure they hadn't gone and messed with the time of MY Class.

"Hi, this is The Greatest Aerobic Dancer your gym has ever known and I'm just calling to make sure that Aerobic Dance is still at 6:00."

As she was giving me the answer to my question, the room started to spin, I felt dizzy.

"Anna... Russia... all summer... kickboxing instead..."

The room started spinning. I felt weak and dizzy. What? Huh? After a few minutes, the reality of what she had just said started to soak in.

OH MY GOD! MY AEROBIC DANCE INSTRUCTOR WENT TO RUSSIA! FOR THE ENTIRE SUMMER! WHICH MEANS NO MORE AEROBIC DANCE CLASS!

I know you probably think I'm being overly dramatic, but people! I live for The Aerobic Dance. The Aerobic Dance Floor is the one place in my life that I completely confident. And even when I've made mistakes, (which was HARDLY EVER) there's no denying that was still pretty much the Greatest AD to have ever danced aerobicly.

And thanks to my instructor who just HAD to go "visit her son"(which, whatever lady.) THAT HAS ALL BEEN RIPPED AWAY FROM ME.

I guess deep down I always knew it wouldn't last forever, I certainly didn't expect for it to be taken away so soon, so suddenly. I'm going to need a few days to let the enormity of this continue to soak in.

Goodbye Aerobic Dance Class. How I've loved you. How I'll miss you. Oh, dear GOD IN HEAVEN, how I'll miss you. But! I will never forget you. I will always remember. ALWAYS.

Long live The Monkey!

Last night I was excited to get back into "the gym scene" as I have slacked off lately.

I've missed 3 Aerobic Dance classes in a row. Which is a record for me because I NEVER miss Aerobic Dance Class.

Imagine my HORROR when some lady who I do not know stood at the front of the class to announce that Anna had cancelled and there would be "no Dance today." Instead, it would be just regular ol' aerobics.

Regular ol' aerobics are DUMB.

I wanted to walk out, but I was in "my spot" in the front of the room and didn't want to look like a poor sport, but inside? I was throwing the biggest tantrum. And I was kind of mad at Anna, how dare she get sick, or too busy to come and teach me new moves. HOW DARE SHE.

The class started and I couldn't stop rolling my eyes. No! Seriously. I kept rolling my eyes and sighing. IT WAS SO DUMB.

About halfway through the Dumbest Routine Ever, she decided to throw in a few token, but TOTALLY DUMB dance "moves." If you can even call them "moves."

At that point, my eyes almost got stuck in the back of my head from the rollage because DO NOT EVEN TRY TO PRETEND LIKE YOU ARE AEROBIC DANCE INSTRUCTING, YOU POSER.

I really was hating the instructor at this point, because The Lameness was overwhelming, but then, she said five little words and TOTALLY REDEEMED HERSELF.

"Make the moves your own."

Sweet Mother of Aerobic Dance. She had just given me permission to bust out my Aerobic Dance Greatness. I don't think she realized the monster she was unleashing by uttering those words because HOLY CRAP, people, DID I EVER MAKE THE MOVES MY OWN.

I'm embarrassed now that I think about it, but in the heat of the moment, I truly thought I was "The Shit."

She was all "Let's do the charleston."

So, we did the Charleston and about halfway through, I decided it was time to kick it up a notch and show her what I was made of and um, the part where you kick back? I went down to the floor and SLAPPED THE GROUND.

It took her a few times to notice, but you better believe she noticed. She was all "Whoa, look at how low she can go."

Recognition from the intructor ACHIEVED.

Obviously, she was not aware of the fact that it's best to NOT encourage me.

The chick behind me didn't like the fact that I was being singled out for my greatness. She also was in awe of my TOTALLY AWESOME "Slap the ground" move and decided it was time (try to) OUT FREESTYLE AEROBIC DANCE ME.

She started doing all of these crazy moves, which made me feel like I had to "one up" her and so then I started doing these crazy moves right back at her and OMG. She wasn't intimidated and broke out this one really awesome move (which, it kills me to admit that, but damn, why didn't I think of hopping on one leg first?) Before you know it, we're in this FULL ON (silent) AEROBIC DANCE WAR and OMG! I started to panic inside which caused me to get desperate and do things I NEVER would have thought I'd do on the Aerobic Dance Floor.

At this point, I think the instructor caught on to what was happening because, SERIOUSLY PEOPLE, it was pretty damn obvious and OH MY GOD, I can't stop laughing just thinking about it because I MADE AN ASS OUT OF MYSELF but, because I think I am the Greatest Aerobic Dancer to have ever lived, I couldn't stop myself. But, back to the instructor. She knew what was going on and wasn't sure how to handle it. It's like, she knew she'd have to declare "A winner" somehow, someway before a)someone got hurt by busting out a dangerous move b) someone got punched in the vagina because, honestly, don't EVEN try to step to this, biznitch.

This is the part where I start to cry on the inside again because a winner was clearly chosen and it was NOT me.

The instructor liked one of the moves that my competitor busted out and said something like "Look at her go." (And here is where I admit that I FULLY thought she was talking about me, until she verbalized what the move looked like and I realised that I hadn't done that move.) Then, and, this is the part that hurts SO BAD, she asked the girl to stay after class to "brainstorm some new moves" after class because she really liked her moves.

As if having my ass handed to me in a silent aerobic dance off wasn't heartbreaking enough, I had to come home and read that my sweet, beautiful, partially deaf Elliot was voted off of American Idol. I kind of hate America for that, but not as much as I hate that obviously blind and very dumb dance instructor for not having choosen ME as The Winner.

Tonight Aerobic Dance Class was Ceraaazy, people.

I admit that I get more pumped up then a person should get about dancing aerobicly. I also admit that I am EXTREMELY COCKY about it and pretty much think I am The Best Aerobic Dancer in the mutha fucking HOUSE.

Anyway, cute Aerobic Dance Instructor with the Perfect Buttocks was all "Tonight, we do Hip Hop/Jazz combination." And OH MY GOD. I wanted to scream because A COMBINATION DANCE IS A DREAM COME TRUE. I held it together on the outide, but on the inside, I was dying (DYING!) from excitement (ok, and my mouth was watering a little too.)

The dance started and they were pretty simple "moves." So of course, the other wimmins thought they were all that and started to get all cocky. Totally uncalled for, bitches. (I know, I know, I'm cocky, who am I to talk? Um, only The Greatest Aerobic Dancer to have ever dance aerobic-ly. That's who! REPSECT THAT SHIT.) I was like "hell to the NO on that. It is *I* who rules the room, it is *I* who Gets All The Moves The First Time. Don't even try it." Seriously.

She starts incorporating the harder moves and do I even need to tell you that I nailed each and every one of them? No. I do not.

Finally, we get to the end of the dance and she does this TOTALLY AWESOME MOVE that I nail the first time (Of COURSE I do!) At least I thought I nailed it until I feel a woman furiously tapping my shoulder and hear screams of "You're RIGHT hand, not your left, your RIGHT!" My first reaction was one of shock, like, I KNOW she did NOT just touch my aerobic dance arm in a violent like manner. But, as I was thinking of how to take her down for even thinking of STEPPING TO THIS, the girl next to her shouts "yeah, I'm following YOU, so if you're gonna stand in the front row, you should get it RIGHT."

I'll let that sink in for a minute.

What.The.Hell?

I couldn't believe what was happening and that THE WIMMINS WERE HOLDING ME ACCOUNTABLE FOR THEIR MISTAKES. As if I was some kind of Aerobic Dancing GOD who they look up to and who is not allowed to make mistakes. UM. I am not the Instructor, but a mere student of The Aerobic Dance. I realize that I am awesome at it and I'm flattered that they look up to me in that way, but no one forced their asses to follow ME. Hello? Am not the instructor. DO NOT EVER TAP ME ON MY ARM OR SPEAK TO ME DURING THE DANCE EVER AGAIN.

To get them back (and this is a true story!) I let one rip towards the end of class and gave them a little something "special." But that's not even the best part. Oh no. You see, after I ripped one, I turned around and looked at the "two who tried to step to this" and made a face like "HOW DARE YOU."

What can I say, Aerobic Dance brings out the absolute best in me.

In other completely unrelated news, my "friend" (no! really) Jay Mohr asked me if I could get a group of 50 people together to go see him at The Irvine Improv this weekend. I didn't have the nerve to tell him I only know like 29 people in real life, but I was all "Sure! I will ask the people who read my BALAWWG if they want to go with me to see the show!"

Anyway, if you're in So Cal and you know, want to go see a great comedy show, email me, or just purchase tickets from The Improv and I'll see you there.

(His buffness is TOTALLY worth the $$. Oh, and he's kinda funny.)

Nothing makes me happier than checking the search log on this blog and finding this:

Search: query for 'fart'
Search: query for 'fart'
Search: query for 'fart'
Search: query for 'fart'
Search: query for 'gas'
Search: query for 'poop, mexico'

Which reminds me of the time Erika emailed me to tell me she couldn't access this site at the hospital because it had been categorized as "TASTELESS".

True story! My blog has been deemed "Tasteless"!

Awesome.

Last night was Aerobic Dance Class. I was more excited than usual because I was under the assumption we'd be continuing with The Hip Hop and, not to sound cocky, but (once again) I NAILED it.

I arrived to class early to do some stretching. (Which is a complete and total lie. I do not arrive early to "Stretch", I have been FORCED to arrive early to claim "my spot". Recently, a group of Annoying Old Wimmins started attending Aerobic Dance class and they are starting to act like they are the bosses of Aerobic Dance class. On Monday, they stole "my spot" and I was stunned. Everyone knows that's my spot. So now, I must get there early, to mark my territory. (Tony says I should squat and pee, to show them I mean business. I'm not sure, but I think he was being a smart ass.) I pretend to be "warming up", but really, it's my way of of saying, "Wimmins, please. I was here long before you and I kinda think that I OWN this class, so step off and GET OUT OF MY SPOT!" Seriously, I have a "spot" and that spot is in the front left corner of the room.)

Bitches better RECOGNIZE.

Anyway, I got there early and was prepared to GO OFF on the Gym Dance Floor with my CRAZY MAD aerobic hip hop dance moves. I was stretching and concentrating. Telling myself things like "You are an awesome aerobic dancer. You own the aerobic dance floor. You are the hip hop master."

Then, The Instructor entered and announced that we'd be doing "Latin" dancing.

One would think I'd be happy about this because, hello! I'm half latin! But, I wasn't happy. I was actually a little pissed off. How dare she go and switch it up on me like that.

I got a grip and was like "I can nail this, my dad is from Mexico! There is Latin pumping through my veins!"

There's a little saying that my father used to preach from the pulpit. "Pride comes before the fall."

Let's just say last night, I got served a big ass plate of "Humble enchiladas."

I could NOT get the steps right. I mean, I had them NAILED in "slow motion" but as soon as she said "faster", I was lost, man. COMPLETELY LOST. How does a 1/2 latina get lost in a latin dance class?

To make matters worse, The White Girl behind me was nailing it . Thoughts of tripping her on purpose ran through my mind because hell to the NO SHE DI'UNT just shame my half Mexican ass on the aerobic dance floor.

Normally when I get home from dance class, I'm all haughty with my new found dance steps and I walk around the house, spontaneously busting into My Moves and saying things like "You LIKE that, don't you?" Or "You wish you could do that." I don't even care when my kids laugh at me, or say things like "Mom, that was the dumbest move I've ever seen" because I know deep down, they're just jealous. But last night, when I walked in the door, I was distraught and all "I don't want to talk about it, no MOVES FOR YOU!" To which, they were like "haha, THANK YOU! We hate having to watch you dance!"

It's not easy for me to admit that I failed at Aerobic Dancing, because in my mind, I truly believe that I am the best Aerobic Dancer to have ever Aerobic Danced, and yet here I am, admitting that I failed. And I failed on the night I should have nailed it because it was the dance of My People.

I keep telling myself that it's ok, we Aerobic Dancers are human, we have good classes and bad classes. We don't have to nail it everytime, we just have to give it all we've got and try to nail it the next class.

And trust me, that is what I'm going to do. I will NOT let The Non Latins win!

Guess where I went on Saturday night?

Let me give you a hint.

Give up?

Well, then let me tell you. I went dancing.

Line dancing.

Jealous?

It's been years since I've gone line dancing, so, when my sister invited us to go in honor of her birthday, I was like "I'm SO there!"

I almost flaked out at the last minute for stupid reasons, such as "I have nothing to wear!" "I'm fat! Which means I can't wear jeans! Which means I can not wear MY JUSTIN ROPER BOOTS, which, HAHA, yes, I own Justin Roper Boots!" But, I did not let the stupid voices in my head win and I got my ass in the shower, put on the same outfit I wore when we went to The Improv to see Jay Mohr, (which officially makes that my "going out" outfit) hopped in the van and drove myself to Da Club.

Da country western club.

Within the first 5 minutes of my arrival, I got asked to dance, which I do believe means that "I'VE STILL GOT IT". Sure, the guy had a speech impediment, a limp, was wearing a belt buckle the size of God and a cowboy hat, BUT EVEN STILL.

I was amazed at how quickly I remembered all of the dances I had learned "back in the day", but more amazed at the large number of grown men who live in southern california who honestly believe that they are "cowboys."

Hey, if wearing a cowboy hat that you bought at the mall whilst walking around with a beer in your hand mouthing the words to the country song blasting from the speakers makes you a cowboy in your mind, more power to ya, partner.

During one of the dances, this short, older woman (and I only point out that she was short AND old to be catty) approached me with this nasty attitude and started yelling at me.

Yelling! At me! On the Line Dance Floor!

"Those are not the right kind of shoes for this kind of dancing. Those shoes are bad, not good, very bad."

Part of me wanted to show her how wrong she was by KICKING HER IN THE STOMACH with my shoes and showing her how, sure, they may be bad for linedancing, but they are TOTALLY AWESOME for knocking the wind out of your "I'm the line dancing shoe police" ass. But, I took the high road. I made a face, put my hand up in the "Shutup and quit talking to me" position and shouted back "I KNOW THAT."

Seriously, I hate people like her. I totally should have kicked her.

I was a little disappointed that we had to leave before they did the "Freestyle" dancing, because I was really looking forward to busting out some of my Aerobic Dance Class moves. Specifically, The Monkey. I did, however, get a chance to show them off in the parking lot on the way to the car.

That was a special moment, because one girl actually said "Wow, that was a cool move."

We aerobic Dancers live for that kind of praise. It's like "In saying that, you're acknowledging that I have paid close attention in class and that I have, indeed, mastered That Move."

Speaking of Aerobic Dancing.

Last night, we learned "Belly Dancing."

Let me just tell you that when the word "Belly" followed by "dancing" came out of her mouth, the excitement that came over my body was almost too much to contain. Have you people seen my belly? I don't have to do much to make it move. I mean, I sneeze, it dances! I cough, it dances!

I was tempted to grab that sack of fatty goodness and scream "I'VE GOT THIS ONE MASTERED, BITCHES. Y'all might as well just leave now!"

I don't know why I've gotten all cocky about my aerobic dancing, but I have. When I come home, I talk nonstop shit about a few of the wimmins in the class and my husband, God love him, had to stop me the other night and said "Do you ever stop to think they probably feel the same way about you?" Which, HELLO? WHO'S SIDE ARE YOU ON ANYWAY, DEAR HUSBAND? But, he's right. They're probably all "That fat girl up front thinks she is THE SHIT, someone needs to tell her that she's not. We should totally trip her on purpose next class!"

Which, if they did trip me on purpose? I'd be like "Bitch, let's settle this with an Aerobic Dance Off. OR ARE YOU TOO SCARED?"

At this point, I have no idea where I'm going with this because, I do believe I started this post talking about my night out line dancing and somehow, it's deteriorated into a fake fight with Aerobic Dancing WANNABES.

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?