Dance Like No One is Watching

Car dancing.

It's something that everyone does whether they choose to admit it or not.

I am a shameless car dancer. But not only do I dance, I sing. I don't care what people think in the cars around me. My work day is over, I'm playing my favorite songs, and you're never gonna stop me! Why is this a topic of conversation today? Well, thank you for asking. Today, as I was driving home from work (I always take the long way on state street when I wanna jam out) with my windows down enjoying the sun and mildly warm weather, I turned on my new favorite album. Montevallo by Sam Hunt. It's one of those things that everyone must dance to. If you're a fan of country music, you need to check it out. Even if you're not, you need to check it out. It's just enough country with a refreshing twist. I don't care if you don't like country. It's dance music!

So, what else to do? I danced! And sang, like no one was watching.

Well, people were.

A car full of attractive men, might I add.

But did this stop me? No. I turned my music up louder and rocked out harder. I should probably let you know that despite my awesome head banging, seat bouncing, and hair whipping, I do drive safely. I keep my eyes open at all times, unless stopped at a light. Then that's go time. The light is red, and you better be dancing like it's your last thee minutes and ten seconds on Earth. If you can't do that, I'm pretty sure we can't be friends. Life is about enjoying the little things. This means you must dance. So, that's what I did. At this light where these guys met up with me, and watched this whole time, I didn't even care that people could see me, or hear me singing just as loud as I could so I could hear myself over the music (sorry if you were anywhere near me. Normally my voice is near angelic [another terrible lie] but today it was sub par). These guys kept time with me for at least two songs until I pulled into a gas station and they pulled in behind me.

Now, I did have a small panic attack based on my experience with a rather frightening road-rager following me home last week and threatening to hurt me. I was a little afraid, but these guys got out of the car and walked up to my windows and leaned in so they could see me. Their eyes were a little glistened over like they had been crying or something.

"That," this guy says to me, laughing pretty hard, "Was probably the best thing I've ever seen."

"We're leaving for summer sales today, and that was the best way to start this road trip." Another said.

As payment for my entertainment they filled my tank and bought me a Monster.

Perhaps I should become a professional Car Dancer. Seems to be a fruitful career.

Cheers to Inconsistency!

*glass clink*

I had to. I couldn't stop myself. The joke was set up in the title.

But the title speaks the truth. I look at this blog and I look over the things I've written in the past and think to myself: I'm so damn funny, look at all the humorous situations I walk in on. I must be blessed. Now, it's true that sometimes these encounters are random (meaning sometimes they're not and I've actually just changed the names of my friends so they have no clue I'm talking about them [surprise!]), and often I see many things I could write about in a day. Sometimes though, my fingers get lazy and my brain doesn't want to expound eloquently on the encounters I have witnessed.

So here's what's next.

No more promises I can't keep.

No more saying I'm going to post consistently.

No more beating myself up because I'm not entertaining the masses.

No more... I don't know I just needed to type another sentence to complete the stack.


So cheers. Cheers to inconsistency and weirdness. Cheers to abnormality. Cheers to being you.

That's what makes this blog work. Just the human interactions that make life so entertaining. And not so entertaining. I can't say that everything will go smoothly from here. I'll certainly try to be entertaining as often and regularly as possible. But I'm not making any promises.

So now let's get to what you all came here for. The stories!!!

I've recently started a new job that dives deep into the customer service aspect of a business. If you know me, you already know where I work. I don't need to explain it to the internet. But this has to do with a different side of my job. The side of my job that I don't get paid for. The observation part.... I've always been really entertained with people that go to the gym on a regular basis. Those guys who yell "gains!" over and over while they work out. The guys that are looking for their "swolemate" as they call it. This search leads to some really entertaining interactions.

Guys (and girls) go to the gym for two reasons. 1. To work out and actually improve their physical health and mental health and all those really great reasons. Namaste. And 2. to pick up chicks (or get hit on by meat heads to boost egos in the case of girls). Now remember, all you who are reading this, please don't be offended by my opinions. That's all they are, opinions and everyone is entitled to their own. That being said, I'm going to continue. Today, we're discussing the people who use the gym for reason two. This seems to be an ever increasing "thing." I've noticed more and more girls coming to the gym in full make up and their hair done up beautifully for no reason at all. But the reason is this: they know if they come into the gym and put minimal effort into walking on a treadmill, or lifting some free weights so that she'll get some guy's attention. And believe me when I say they've zeroed in on her like a hawk from the moment that she enters the facility.

It looks a little something like this.


From that point forward there's a sort of silent competition between any of the males at the gym that have noticed her. It's a ride or die situation. And no, I didn't misuse that term. That's the end goal. Let's be honest. But you can't just go running across the gym to get next to her and strike up a conversation. The progression from wherever the person was at to wherever they need to be turns into the most awkward land race I've ever witnessed. He has to keep working out and acting natural while keeping his eye on her, and her other potential "suitors." Reps get faster, louder, more attention grabbing. Whatever it takes for her to notice. And don't think she hasn't got her eye on the few people she deems suitable for herself. She's marked them in her crosshairs once she got through the door and twitched her way all the way over to the step climber.

Let the games begin!

I watched this happen the other day during my lunch break. She game bounding through the door, Victoria's Secret sports bra, freshly tanned skin and a gaudy navel piercing, and went straight to the treadmills. She had given the head nod (you know the one) to a few people as she passed them. I'm not going to say that they were complete strangers, but they very well may have been. There was an awkward clamor over the floor, past a few machines as one rather muscular dude made his way toward her. The guy couldn't even put his arms down by his sides. What kind of life is that? That's another topic for another day. So, moving right along. Captain Swole beat out his competition by passing along rather threatening glances at anyone that was moving toward her. They all backed down pretty easily. I was a little upset about it, to be honest.

So he swaggers (because that's what Bros do) up to the treadmill and she doesn't even skip a beat. She dismounts the machine and starts chatting him up. The talk gets really flirty, as he body language changes severely from "I'm here until you come and get me and I'll pretend to look busy and know what I'm doing." to "Yes, yes, just ask me for my number and invite me over later. Sooooooo yeah."

And then they either leave the gym together, neither of them really having worked out at all, or they exchange information and who knows what happens after that. I can only assume they've found their douche "swolemate" and Captain and Mrs. Swole will live happily ever after.

Why is this a thing? I'll never know. I go to the gym to work out. And at that, I don't do it often. But when I'm there, I'm in a grungy tee and shorts, I've got my headphones in and you better leave me alone. You want to meet me? Wait till I'm done with my workout.

So, here's to humans being weird.