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0010101011:
Permission Slip
At my big sister’s wedding this September, I notice my dad standing on the sidelines of the dance floor comme d’habitude.
“C’mon, dad, get out on there on the dance floor. The dude with the moustache and the polyester tie is gonna steal your woman.”
“I can’t do that, kid,” he replies, ever-sheepish, ever-pigeon-toed.
“Gawd, you’re such a narcissist,” I reply avec drama. “You act like anyone’s watchin’ you.”
“I’m watchin’ me!” he laughs.
At which point I remind him:
What is the seal of liberation? — No longer being ashamed in front of oneself.
Freddy N., The Gay Science
Yes. Feeling a bit of the Holiday-season melons, my dear collies?
 |
Consider this my personal permission slip for you to drink some sprss in your big win during the holiday gift steal, crank the music and act a fool:
*** Video: ANP doesn’t feel like dancin’ ***
Credits: Scissor Sisters, music; ANP, way-out-of-my-range yodelling; Puppy, dance partner. Yes, that’s a Matty Charles tee shirt that Puppy is rockin’.
After you get your rump-shake on, come join me at yet another indie chica extravaganza, this time in the B. Hill.
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