The Girl Scout leaders tried to teach us how to perform the tinikling dance of the Philippines; however, they must have misdirected me because I kept bruising ankles and tripping over poles.
After pointless rehearsals, they slapped a grass skirt on me and the other uncoordinated scout and stuck us at the front of the stage to wave our arms back and forth. See what happens when one is misdirected? However, a lack of rhythm (or direction) never stopped me from dancing with a chair at the Deja Vu.
Now I'm full of rhythm. Just watch me in my movie premiere. I have a fist pumping solo dance and a group scene in which I'm the one in the yellow sunglasses (not Sponge Bob) who's a beat off from everyone else, but it's only because I was misdirected.
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