Awkward White Girl Dances Moves

A couple weeks ago, I was invited to an event called, Fre$hman Dance: What Culd B Da Best Nite of Ur Fre$h Year". I immediately declined, knowing that by going, I would be subjecting myself to utter humiliation and possibly the worst "Nite of My Fre$h Year".

But, because I am currently hanging out with kids who have wildly different interests than me, I got dragged into going. We were all under the impression that it was going to be completely lame, and I was under the impression that my friends would realize it sucked within about five minutes, setting me free from this social disaster's clutches extremely quickly.

However, when we got in like for tickets, my dreams of ever getting out were crushed, as I saw about 300 other freshmen lined up, many of which my friends recognized. It would take at least an hour for my friends to dance with each of these eager freshmen! Luckily, I spotted a friend who looked extremely unhappy to be there (she was also dragged by her dancerific friends), and left my other friends (who were chatting about how to dougie), to stand in line with her. We complained about how lame this shit was, while we attempted to stuff our overly large freshmen backpacks into the garbages provided.

Upon entering the dance, my eyes were shocked by the strobes flashing obnoxiously (thank god I'm not epileptic!), the strange neon colored shapes being projected on to the walls, and the horrifyingly loud and awful music, courtesy of an old DJ who looked like he might drop dead any second. We were given a sheet of paper with a name of a person who was also at the dance, who we needed to find, a failed attempt at making the awkward freshmen (excuse me, fre$hmen) socialize. My mission was to find a Kevin L., which is not really hard in a school where 60% of the population is asian. After interrogating a few asian dudes, I found   a Kevin Lou. At this point, no one had started dancing, they just shouted over ridiculously loud music in their little friend groups.

It all changed by one song. When the elderly DJ played the Cha Cha Slide, a song that has haunted me since we were forced to dance it in 5th grade, played, the formerly awkward freshmen all began dancing, leaving me, my other fail-dancer friend, and a few other lonely kids standing up against the wall, ready to kill ourselves. I was then bombarded by 4 dancetastic friends, two behind me, and one on each arm, who kidnapped me and placed me into the uncomfortably close throng of  dancing teenagers. I did obey the song, sliding to the left, and to the right at the appropriate times. However, when it came to "how long can you go", I didn't do the whole I'mma-shake-my-ass-in-people's-faces-to-show-how-long-I-can-go. The song is not asking how huge your backside is, it's just asking how close to the ground you can get, and I complied.

Honestly though, the Cha Cha Slide was the least of my problems. That's the song they play at dances to break the ice, and make all the dancemasters start the party. Unfortunately for me and my awkward friend, not all songs tell you how to dance. There lies my problem. I was pretty much being forced to dance by my other friends, who are absolutely fantastic dancers. Whenever they fist pound and shit, it doesn't look ridiculous (like it does on Jersey Shore), it looks natural, and right. Not so much for me.

At one point, I was just standing in the middle of my sweaty, putrid-smelling friends, who were all like:

I was half-heartedly hopping to what  I hope was the beat, looking obviously unhappy. My dancetastic friends  were like, "Dance, Anna!" I answered, straining my vocal cords to make them hear me over Lady Gaga's newest hit, "I don't really know how. I'm just copying what you guys are doing, and simplifying it so I can do it with minimal effort." One particularly dancerific friend replied, "Just feel the music!"

What?! How does one go about feeling the music?! I can hear the music (Anyone within a five mile radius probably could), I can feel the vibrations of it throughout my body, and the massive headache listening to iTunes Top Purchased has given me, but I cannot feel the music. That's just a blatant misuse of the five senses.

I continued to half-heartedly hop, put my hands up at the appropriate times, and avoid grinding trains (I mean, honestly, what is appealing about having someone's ass rub against you?) for the rest of the dance. I went home with my iPod, listening to very non-dancey music that I enjoy, with an even greater knowledge of exactly how awkward I am. I can talk to people, and I like to socialize, but when surrounded by hundreds of sweating, grinding, dancing teenagers, my charisma comes to a halt.

Lesson of the Day: Trust your instincts. If you're an awkward dancer, no matter how much your dancerific friends want you to go, don't go to a dance!

Song of the Day: Teach Me How to Dougie- The Cali Swag District

...Kidding. The Song of the Day is actually Fuck You, by Cee-Lo Green. That's directed to the chick who told me to "feel the music."