8. The Cha-Cha-Slide

There are certain inevitabilities that, over time, I’ve come to accept in my day-to-day life. I will never be functional in the morning until I’ve dosed myself with enough caffeine to kill a small child, the weather in the Midwest will always be godawful, and every time I go to a social function with a dance floor, I know it’s only a matter of time before somebody plays the goddamn Cha-Cha-Slide.

This weekend, I went to a wedding (pause for laughter). It was a nice and respectful affair, full of love and ceremony, that I wholeheartedly tolerated until the important part, that being the reception with free beer. At said ceremony, there was a dance floor. At first, I planned on abstaining from the dance floor because I’m a white male and thus have no business dancing. As my body chemistry became at least 35% Free Coors Lite, this philosophy changed rapidly. It wasn’t until the authoritarian barking of “Clap-clap-clap your hands!” came booming through the speakers that I regained my sanity and retreated back to my table to watch everyone else follow DJ Casper’s Nazi Dance Commands like drunken zombies.

Just as Lean Cuisine is cooking for people who cannot cook and Mad Libs is writing for people who cannot write, the Cha-Cha-Slide (and its evil inbred cousins, The Cupid Shuffle and The Macarena) is a dance for people who cannot dance. The instructions are there, you just have to follow them and don’t get too cute with it. If it weren’t for white people, there would be no such thing as the Cha-Cha-Slide. I am, by no means, a proficient dancer. On a scale of 1 to Kevin Bacon, I am about a 5.

This is what a 5 looks like.

That said, I think that if you’re going to work up the courage to dance, you should at least have the balls (or female balls, if you’re a female) to dance your own damn dance. I do The Corbin Dance, my friend Brett does The Brett Dance (which consists of a lot of air humping and sexual harassment), and everybody is OK with it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go hunt, capture, and kill DJ Casper before he ruins another wedding reception/prom/bridal shower/funeral/briss.

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