Jump to the rhythm jump jump to the rhythm jump
Girl-childs room at day camp was BLASTIN’ out the dance tunes this morning. We opened the door to her room and were met with the intro to C and C Music Factory’s “Everybody Dance Now (Gonna Make You Sweat)” (check out the video link, dude!). Which made my hips immediately start shimmying in that way, I’m sure, that embarrasses all children whose parents DARE to find da funk.
Problem with dance music like that is, it sticks in my head. All. Day. Long.
I left the camp building with that damn song in my head and every fibre of my being doing that shimmy-shake thing, and I had to fight like hell to keep my arms from raising up like the chick in that video, y’know, the chick everyone thought was singing but really wasn’t, and it turned out to be the beautiful voice of a plus-size crooner (who the record company didn’t want to show? WTF??). My arms raising up like whats-his-name in The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, as they drove that freakin’ bus through the countryside, chiffon trailing behind every so gracefully. Arms raising up like that guy I used to know, that drag queen, who wore makeup better than me, especially on stage when he imitated Cher and Marilyn Monroe and Liza (with a Z).
I jumped in my car (jump jump to the rhythm) and started rappin’, in my old white girl way, about all these folks I saw out on the street….
…that too-skinny anorexic woman jogging, insisting on dropping more fat she didn’t have….
“I’m here to beat ya down
stop runnin’ around this town
you got no meat
gonna stomp that body
into the groun’
you too skinny
go eat some pancakes
this early to run your ass off
better ways to sweat”
…and then there was the couple TOO obviously walking home after a night of passion…
“Sweatin’ it out on the brand new bed
roommates banging down the door
doin’ it on the floor
she’s on top
screamin’ for more
two bodies walkin’ home
call ya later alligator
you got the booty call, boy
time to show her how you can move
how you can sweat”
I totally suck at writing lyrics, man.
But I can dance.
It’s a good thing you can’t see me now, chair-dancing in my stupid ergonomically-correct roll-away chair, hoping the boss doesn’t see me or hear me typing thisfastthisfast tryin’ to post before the guys all come in and start asking me questions I unfortunately know the answers to.
Today I’m gonna check out more of this site, who happened to have lyrics to the song that I’m now looking at and shaking my ass to…’cause I gots da funk, baby….