Dancing: Episode 3 "Game on!"

 

You know those activities you do, where you can let your hair down and be you? There's something for everyone --- Enter: NASCAR. 

Dancing is for me, what driving around in circles is for that guy with the dual-beer-hard-hat. The endorphin-release is addicting... and can somewhat cloud my judgment. For me, it's times like these that maturity becomes less necessary. With that disclaimer in mind, I'll explain a couple of the games we tend to play while dancing. 

That's-What-She-Said Game:

You're familiar with the pop-culture antics of  Michael Scott (The Office)  and the "That's what she said" tag, right? Same concept applies. Should you find your mind recognizing a what-could-be sexual reference, you shout "THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID" -- and here's where the game begins; if you are not the originator of the thought you have to quickly touch your nose... The last player with a finger to their nose loses and is then forced to make a sex noise. Those are the rules.

You can learn a lot about a person playing this game. And I'm not just talking about their dexterity. 

It gets to the point that everyone's minds have been brought down to the same level, and you may as well keep your finger on your nose. I've laughed myself to tears too many times to count. You'll find that the game is about done (but even more fun to play) when you hear one of your friends say: "What? Guys! That one doesn't even make sense... UUUUHHHHH Heh Heh Heh Oooooo!" (MAJOR brownie points to you if you just read that last paragraph out loud to someone.)

Give it a try with your friends. Enjoy!

My Team Game:

This game certainly extends beyond the dance floor for my closest girlfriends. The funny thing is I can’t really explain the rules of sport since I’m still in the process of constructing ‘my team’…. Then again, you could say creating the team IS the sport.

The goal is simple: Create a dream team. That is, the best of the best in every category. You want to make sure your team can kick any other team’s butt - at anything and everything. And that's it. 

Let me explain what playing the game looks like;

We (the aforementioned girlfriends and I) go dancing all the time, right? Walking into a crowded club with easily a few hundred people, it becomes almost necessary to start calling dibs on potential teammates. You see a good looking fella? You call "my team". And he's on your team. Easy win! You see an awesome dancer? No sweat, just beat your friend to the punch by vocalizing "my team", another easy win. ... Simple, but fun. 

In the reverse (or you could say "defense") you can also play the same game like this:

Say you are flying home via a crowded airport... see that one guy's nasty ponytail? Snap a picture to send to your girlfriend with the caption "Ponytail: Your team"... All calls are final, so she can't argue. The most gratifying of wins? Just bid that guy, the one your age who you caught checking out your grandma's pink-plaid tush, "your team". No need to feel offended that your silver-jean-co clad rear didn't grab his attention, just gift him to another team. One less handicap for your team gives you an advantage! 

The teammate doesn't have to agree to the draft or trade. Actually, very rarely do they know they've even been selected. 

The game has become particularly brutal between me and one of my best friends. (Remember Judy?) The competitiveness stems from our unnaturally similar tastes. We tend to go after the same guy, every. freaking. time. ---  "My Team" has saved our friendship, and probably our lives. 

And besides, we know you're a little bored with all the  "Team Edward" or "Team Jacob" nonsense.

Anyway. It's all fun and games. But just remember, if life really is a team sport -- you certainly want to be on MY Team.

-Mag