Woaaahh There, Alcohol

It’s nice to be reacquainted.

As for my Liver, you will be silenced. This milk thistle helps a lot, anyway.
But shut the fuck up, you dammed liver. You aren’t even important anyway. Really, what do you even do?
You’re just upset that you’re practically my least favorite organ. There is no need for this anger. Calm down because I would greatly appreciate it.
Thaaaaaaaank ya.

Remember #4: Dance like a crazy shithead on crack

Ha.

Really. If you know me…
      …you know I live by this.

Sometimes people just don’t dance. And I have never understood why. At least sway. Everyone can sway. Even uncoordnated people. I promise!

Dancing, for me, is a great way to release tension.
   Wanna hit a bitch? Just dance.
      People trippin? Just dance.
         Don’t know what to do? Just dance.
      Feelin’ wiggly? Just dance.
   Angry? Sad? Confused? You guessed it: just dance.

If you ever, EVER fucking get judged for dancing like an insane manic, those donkey dicks can go to hell.

You do what feels right, always.
Who cares if you can’t dance?!
Not I! Just give it a try! You might find that you soar high, high into the sky, like a flourescent butterfly.

That’s what happened to me.

Not sure when I discovered my love of dancing, But I do know that it gives me confidence/happiness for some strange reason. Without going into grave detail,
typically, no matter the setting, dancing brings me peace.

I am not talking about coordnated, skilled dancing. No, sir.
I am talking about craaazy dancing: picture some shithead on crack.
   Dancing in the corner, probably by herself.
      Even when no one else is groovin’.
         Gettin dooooown, resulting in bruises.
That’s the best kind of dancing.

Be the music.
Invision that you are a puppet master, and you control the beats and rhythms with your dance moves.
Tis’ my strategy.
Or forsee yourself conducting an orchestra.
Sway yo’ little conductor stick.
Show em’ who is the music master.

Long story condensed, dancing has somewhat saved my soul.