Are They Line Dancing to Space Jam?, Or, Happy Two Months Pregnant!

While my friends and I have enjoyed a few nights at a bar country line dancing, my roommate, Cort, was really into what's best described as Country Swing, or as the new place we found calls it: TRUE COUNTRY.

Courtesy of truecountrydance.com...I mean that's totally me. Okay, so no, I can't do that but MAYBE someday I will.

By some magic* we found this place that does country swing, which Cort used to do with her undergraduate friends.  A couple Wednesdays ago we decided to check it out and found a line wrapped around the building!  It was 18+ night, which accounted for the line as well as a wrist-band-only guys rule.  After weaving in and grabbing our first round of drinks, we headed to the edge of the main dance floor, just behind the smaller one.  There were plenty of people out there...but line dancing! WHAT?

We soon found out that there was a change up pattern - 3-4 songs would be played for line dances, and 3-4 songs would be played for two-stepping or swing dancing.  We watched for the first few, but later on a few of us tried to get in on the line dancing and Cort and I two-stepped.  A bit later she got asked to dance by a strapping, cowboy-hat-wearing, young gentleman.

After stepping outside for some air, we came back in to find people line dancing to Space Jam**.  Then to MmmBop.  Then to more strange line dancing songs that I probably blocked out.  Suddenly, the music paused as all ladies were asked to get on the floor who could do one particular line dance, and all the gentlemen celebrating birthdays or being newly single got a front row seat.

Afterwards it was the boys turn, which the announcer was sure to emphasize was a "clothes optional" dance.

As a pretty average girl, I dig both the tux and the occasional uniform look.  But there is nothing I have found that quite does it for me like a plaid shirt, correctly fitted jeans, and a hat (and maybe a belt buckle, but nothing tacky).  So the crowd looked pretty good before they all started ripping their shirts off...then some of them got better.  And some got worse (put it BACK on!).  Either way, all of a sudden there were a group of about 40 guys, most of them topless, line dancing for the girls who were celebrating birthdays, bachelorettes, being newly single, and 8 weeks pregnant.

Why she was out at a bar 8 weeks pregnant? Not sure.  But if you get a crowd of half naked men dancing for you, then I guess I can't judge her life choices too harshly.  I'll be sure to note this for my future husband/baby daddy****.

Cross-Fit Is Less Awesome, And, This is Water

So among the copious amount of movies and other nothing I've been doing of late, I decided to try to do Cross-Fit exercises with a good friend.

12-20 minutes. That's all, just push through it, you're done, right?

Wrong.  Well, technically, yes, but not so simply.  Cross-Fit can be hard.  And painful.  And hard.  And sometimes I feel like the warm-up is enough.  But then I do do the rest of it, sometimes pausing before the nausea can occur, sometimes snapping out of my dizzy-driven thoughts to realize I'm on the next exercise.

Yet as much as it is just not enjoyable, I'm going to keep doing it.

Because lately, my days have felt pretty meaningless.  I've had staring contests with many-a-screen, and occasionally with a good old fashioned book.  I'm not sure how it became a third of the way through June.  And the occasional bit of fitness I punch in does remind me that I am still an existing thing beyond what I choose to take in.

But I watched this today, and no matter who you are - graduate student, unemployed, employed but burnt out or just feeling "stuck" in whatever worry you cannot fully comprehend or name, I think you should watch it too.

This Is Water

I hope it helps.  I think I'll try.

June Jubilation, Or, My New Addiction to Competitive Television

This past March I participated in my first ever March Madness bracket.  With some advice from my basketball playing cousin, I made my bracket and ended up winning*!

While I've learned that my favorite phrase to yell at televised sporting events is "get your s**t together", I've also learned that I love the systematic order and yet luck that comes with picking your winners - where math and destiny collide.

So I decided to apply this to the most heart-wrenching, riveting, televised competition of all.  The Bachelorette.

Is this novel? Not in the least.  Brackets have been around for at least the past couple seasons, which is pretty much when I started watching anyway.  By the second season I viewed I'd invented a drinking game, but it just hasn't been enough.  So it was time to up the ante.

My summer productivity in the print.

First I thought at least my sisters would get involved.  But after my first viewing party (which included two loud and opinionated men**) there will now be around 10 females participating in the bracket.  I have yet to come up with prizes, although making our own Shiva***, a couple bottles of wine, and bragging rights sound about right.

Let the games begin!
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Things I'm looking for in a new apartment/house:

1.)  Allows dogs that are actually dogs (no 35lbs restriction).

2.)  Not beneath a master bedroom.  Because there's no nice way to offer your neighbors a can of WD-40.

3.)  Relatively cheap.

Everything else, I welcome the DIY.