Boogie oogie oogie
Feb. 12th, 2007 10:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
slipjig3This is the part of the show where Adam tries to get caught up on his posting. He will likely fail utterly.
Friday was the annual Girl Scout Daddy-Daughter Dance with Abbey. A grand time, 'twas. Here's the details:
1) She was a vision of loveliness, as always, in a lovely white ensemble with a sparkly pink handbag just big enough for her lip gloss and a couple of Kleenex. I was a vision of, well, something. Not sure what. All I know is that I'd shaved my goatee slightly crookedly, and spent the better part of the night poking at it, praying that no one noticed.
2) The playlist for this event is pretty consistent from year to year, and every song has its purpose:
Rock Around the Clock: Because it gets both Dad and Daughter moving without making them too self-conscious about it.
The Twist: Because Dad believes he can do the Twist, and Daughter loves him even though he's being a dork right now.
Cotton-Eyed Joe: Because every single girl in school knows the special coronary-waiting-to-happen dance that goes with it, and will run off in a squealing mass onto the dance floor, leaving Dad to catch his breath and snarf some more punch.
Brown Eyed Girl: In case Daughter does indeed have brown eyes.
Butterfly Kisses: Because dammit, Dad must cry. (For the record, I didn't. Abbey did.)
And so on.
3) Follow-up to item #2: I used to think that the most disturbing thing to hear a gaggle of nine-year-olds sing was "Man, I Feel Like a Woman," but I have to admit that "Hips Don't Lie" is giving it a serious run for the money.
4) Not to mention that six-year-old who was dancing like John Travolta in Pulp Fiction.
5) The Dad's Public Humiliation part shifted this year from giving five guys oversized glasses and forcing them to do the Six Flags Guy Dance to giving them appropriate headgear and forcing them to do the YMCA. Abbey was pushing hard for the DJ to pick me, but I pulled her aside and explained that although I have no trouble being silly if it's on my own accord, I have a lot of trouble with being put on the spot like that. She understood well. Love her to bits.
6) I wore my hat. I figured that I'd have an easier time submitting to the Chicken Dance if I was in character.
7) Everyone I've mentioned the Chicken Dance to since then has said the same thing: "Awww, that's so cute!" I, in turn, give them a ticked-off wet cat look.
Then both kids spent the night at my place, which went reasonably well. No real stories there, except for Nik asking, "Dad, were you aware that some girls play guitar?"
More weekend stories coming up....
Friday was the annual Girl Scout Daddy-Daughter Dance with Abbey. A grand time, 'twas. Here's the details:
1) She was a vision of loveliness, as always, in a lovely white ensemble with a sparkly pink handbag just big enough for her lip gloss and a couple of Kleenex. I was a vision of, well, something. Not sure what. All I know is that I'd shaved my goatee slightly crookedly, and spent the better part of the night poking at it, praying that no one noticed.
2) The playlist for this event is pretty consistent from year to year, and every song has its purpose:
Rock Around the Clock: Because it gets both Dad and Daughter moving without making them too self-conscious about it.
The Twist: Because Dad believes he can do the Twist, and Daughter loves him even though he's being a dork right now.
Cotton-Eyed Joe: Because every single girl in school knows the special coronary-waiting-to-happen dance that goes with it, and will run off in a squealing mass onto the dance floor, leaving Dad to catch his breath and snarf some more punch.
Brown Eyed Girl: In case Daughter does indeed have brown eyes.
Butterfly Kisses: Because dammit, Dad must cry. (For the record, I didn't. Abbey did.)
And so on.
3) Follow-up to item #2: I used to think that the most disturbing thing to hear a gaggle of nine-year-olds sing was "Man, I Feel Like a Woman," but I have to admit that "Hips Don't Lie" is giving it a serious run for the money.
4) Not to mention that six-year-old who was dancing like John Travolta in Pulp Fiction.
5) The Dad's Public Humiliation part shifted this year from giving five guys oversized glasses and forcing them to do the Six Flags Guy Dance to giving them appropriate headgear and forcing them to do the YMCA. Abbey was pushing hard for the DJ to pick me, but I pulled her aside and explained that although I have no trouble being silly if it's on my own accord, I have a lot of trouble with being put on the spot like that. She understood well. Love her to bits.
6) I wore my hat. I figured that I'd have an easier time submitting to the Chicken Dance if I was in character.
7) Everyone I've mentioned the Chicken Dance to since then has said the same thing: "Awww, that's so cute!" I, in turn, give them a ticked-off wet cat look.
Then both kids spent the night at my place, which went reasonably well. No real stories there, except for Nik asking, "Dad, were you aware that some girls play guitar?"
More weekend stories coming up....
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(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-13 05:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-13 02:54 pm (UTC)