Perfect Date

Every guy has a dream date, the perfect girl in our minds. I believe in prepping before you venture out into dating. Reason I believe in this ritual is that like every task we take seriously, e.g. exams, we cram the nights before. So boys, prepare yourselves prior to engaging in conversations, you wouldn't want be humming songs when you're supposed to making them laugh. More importantly guys, learn how to dance. I am so tired of being stepped on by freaky dancers, last time I went out I had a few toes almost fractured and had my ribs bruised in the process. We should go back to the 17th century when they wore body armour; the metal wearing punks could dance without fear of being bruised. Have you walked to a club and the music is off the hook (nobody uses that lingo anymore, bare with me though) and you can feel the music down your soul. So you brave the empty floor and do start on the latest moves and slowly but surely other people trickle onto the floor. Soon the floor is almost packed and the ratio of women to men isn't perfect but with your skills you shouldn't have a problem getting a dancing partner (that's all you want, I'd hope). Unfortunately as most of you, know white people generally can’t dance, nothing against the lovely people (plain obvious).

Imagine being a knight, wait! Can't remember if knights wore this, that's besides the point I think. Back to my near death experience and a bit off topic from the 'perfect date' title. There I am in the club moving in what I hope is systematic to the rhythm; some young lady is gunning it too far. Then without warning, a sharp pain right through my foot through my back to the neck then BOOM! OOOuuch! You son-of-a......... Oops! I almost cursed at the poor girl but realised that she was probably doing what came natural, to step on someone sooner or later. Damn! Honeys, if you can’t dance don’t wear high heels; leave those to the JLo’s and Beyonces who can handle the dance and heel. Please! Limping and in pain I quickly make out of the dance floor and dash into the ambulance already waiting outside (how did they know, could Aussies be that bad of dancers). Well I didn't quite require paramedics but I did limp off the dance floor, had several shots of icy cold water before braving the floor again.
Got to finish this later, Oprah is on and I love the woman (You tell and I will kill you, no pan there). I should change the title,maybe later eh?
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