Now my favourite track by a country mile is David Guetta and Snoop Dog’s Sweat. It’s brilliant cause not only can you do some fabulous arm-work with the left and maintain a steering wheel beat with the right but you can also get the hips grinding into the back of the seat. It’s a song that gives you everything for a great car dance. I’ve made the call early in 2011, it’s the St. Murphy Song Of The Year!
While on great songs, my other two favourite songs to car-dance to are Ke$ha’s Blow and Stan Walker’s Loud. Both brilliant. With Blow you can do some very dramatic slo-mo ‘raise the roof, raise the roof’ sorta actions. And I can get a bit gangsta on this one. Stan is becoming the man with Loud and I loves it.
The thing with car-dancing is that you can always get caught which does have the potential for embarrassment. Luckily for me this week I don’t think I did so I am still dancing like no one is watching. Which is strange really cause I’m sure that some other motorist would have had to of seen my flamboyant head–rolls and shoulder-shrugging.
My signature dance move is the reverse perpendicular leg lift with pointed toe. See I used to think I was a really good dancer and that if I’d had of had any sort training when I was younger than I could have been with Sydney Dance Company. That is until I found myself on the first audition tour for So You Think You Can Dance! Even the shockers were better than me. No way could I do that with my little short legs and the judges kept talking about something called ‘core strength’ – this was not something I had or understood. At this point I stopped considering dance as one of my ‘could’ve if I wanted to’s’.
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| Could've been me! |
Now my dancing is limited to car, home and hotel rooms with full-length mirrors. The audiences in these venues have a real appreciation of my immense skill. Of course on the occasions I may get a little tipsy my moves might come out in public but that is a rarity these days.
It doesn't seem that long ago (...mmm, at least 6 years!) that I used go dancing for days at a time, dancing so much I’d still be dancing at the trough on a pee-break. Dancing with glow sticks, dancing with my shirt off, I’ve even danced in a cage. There is certainly no denying I used to be drawn to a podium like a magnet. I am secretly pleased that those days are behind me and that no more will anyone see me in a shoe-string singlet.
Yes, it’s definitely best that I keep my dancing to within the four doors of my little Peugeot. No one loses an eye that way.
