Because it’s still pouring in my life. I’m walking around under my very own storm cloud, it seems. (okay, I’m being dramatic, just humor me)
Went to a 90s party last night… bangin’, by the way. Music from that era is my all time favorite. I was sangin’ EVERYword to nearly EVERY jam. SWV, Wu, Biggie, Mary, Buju Banton, Tribe, Snoop, etc. We hit the open bar HOARD before time was up so I was liquored up and groovin’ away. I could not quit dancing. To begin, I love to dance. I dance like nobody’s watching. I dance because I can’t NOT dance. Also, the DJ was doing his thing and was throwing on hit after nostalgic hit. In my fervor to let the beat hit me and take control ©Lisa Lisa and ‘nem, and in my zeal to always be fashionably fabulous, I rolled my ankle. A botched Heavy D move and some solid gold pumps sent my ankle to the side like a slept-on afro.
Ouch. However, ya girl kept on dancing on it for the rest of the night. Why? Well I already said that I’m a slave to the rhythm! I meant it. Finally, me and the Cougar Squad had to force ourselves to quit dancing by sitting outside the party. Right now, my jawn is tight and hurts when I rotate it. Oh well…
Can a sista get a break?