Saturday, February 13, 2010
If you are going to be a part of my life, there are three things you should know about me.

1. I blog. You are not safe, you never will be. If you ask me not to blog about you or something pertaining to you, it would be a good idea to bet money on the fact that I will most definitely blog about you. Just ask Boyfriend before he was my boyfriend. He's seen the brutally honest blogging side of me. My words are my weapons, since I no longer punch boys in the face when they cross me. And not just boys, everyone. Although, if you ask me not to blog, and offer your nose up for sacrifice instead... well. We might be able to work something out.

2. I dance. It's not like I grew up taking ballet, tap and jazz (just ballet, actually). I don't choreograph my own dances to artistically express my emotions. No, I use dancing to express just plain ol' emotions. Right there, right when I'm having them. Usually happiness, excitement or anxiety. Or the need to pee. I'm one of those people that is constantly tapping my fingers and feet, so when I have too much emotion I have to vent it somehow. Serious emotions are put into word form. Lighter emotions are put into booty shaking form.

3. I effing love cranberry sauce. No joke. It's ridiculous. Between October and March (Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter) when cranberry sauce is readily available, I load up. Like squirrels and nuts. I gather cans for summer survival. I bought them in bulk at Sam's club this year. Once in high school I took a can of cranberry sauce, a spoon and a can opener for my lunch. When I was three years old, my parents put a can of cranberry sauce out for Thanksgiving. A few minutes later, the dish was empty. My mother put another one out. Minutes after that, the dish was empty. Both parents had put a can out, and so realized that something was amiss. They realized that the cranberry sauce and I were missing at the same time. They found me sitting under the table (thanks formal dinners with long table cloths!) holding the can-shaped deliciousness in my hands, eating and giggling like the anti-oxidant gobbling maniac I am.

My Presscioussss...

So naturally, the latter two are combined with the infamous 'Cranberry Sauce Dance.' Seriously. My family expects it. Sometimes they will see me doing another dance, and say, "Why are you doing the Cranberry Sauce Dance?" and I will have to correct them. You see, everything that makes me happy has a different dance. There's an 'I can't wait to see my boyfriend' dance. There's an 'I'm so excited to see this movie' dance. There's an 'I just got paid' dance. There are at least three different dances celebrating gravy. The other day I discovered the 'Someone I don't know reads, comments and follows my blog!' dance. I like that one. In fact, if I get ten followers I don't know, I'll post a video montage of my various dances.

Now it is time to combine all three of the things you now know about me.

Yesterday my family went out to dinner and the movies. We went to our favorite Chinese buffet. I don't know what it's really called, since we refer to it as 'Tiny Asian Whoville', because of the fountain in front of the restaurant. The fountain looks like a steep, rocky mountain, and has tiny little huts all over it. A few of the huts even have tiny little people. As part of Neapolitan, I've terrorized Tiny Asian Whoville. (Someday I will blog about Neapolitan.)

After dinner we went to see the Percy Jackson movie. Because my brother came straight to the restaurant from work, we took two cars. I was behind my brother's van, and as he drove down an aisle in the parking lot, looking for a space, I followed. Just as he drove past, a car started to back out. So I got the space. It was a good one, too. Center aisle, close to the door. It was awesome. Not very many frozen puddles or patches of ice between the space and the door... it made me happy. So happy I danced.

And my youngest brother said from the back seat, "Did you just do the Cranberry Sauce Dance?"

I was horribly offended. "No!" I exclaimed, sounding horribly offended. "That was the 'I'm having a good day because someone I don't know started following my blog, my belly is full of Chinese food and I just got a good parking space' Dance!"

I have decided to post a little diagram of said dance. Since you're usually sitting in your car when you get a good parking space, you have a rather limited range of motion for your lower half. Wiggle hips back and forth in your seat, just slightly. Most of the dance is done with your upper body. Raise your arms until your upper arm is perpendicular to your torso, then bend your arms at a ninety degree angle. Make fists. Move your arms up and down like pistons. With the hip wiggling and the double fist pumping, there may be a little shoulder wiggling. That's okay. It just shows that you're extra happy. If the dumplings were good at the restaurant, it's perfectly acceptable.

Stick Lori scores 9/10 points, cause she doesn't have boobs.

And so you can understand how (justifiably) appalled I was that my brother confused it for the renowned Cranberry Sauce Dance, I will explain it here. The difficulty level is infinitely higher for this dance. If there was a point system for my dancing, the above dance would be 10. For the CSD, it would be 10 million times penguin-lemurs. You start by bending forward, sticking your booty out behind you. Lower your head, in an attempt to hold on to some dignity by hiding your sheer happiness because you are about to eat Cranberry Sauce. Lots of Cranberry Sauce. Then you move your butt back and forth in a half circle sort of motion. Almost like the Twist, but not the Twist. Also, try to wiggle just your butt, and not your entire body. Next are the shoulders. Depending on what type of Cranberry Sauce you're about to consume (Ocean Spray vs. Not Ocean Spray), your shoulders can either move in a little S-curve (for Not Ocean Spray) or the more difficult figure 8. The arms are probably what confused my brother. Bend your arms at the elbows and make fists, but instead of punching the air, you make little circular motions with your fists. One fist goes clockwise, the other counter-clockwise. The elbows also get in on the action. Move them in and out away from your body. Almost like flapping wings. Almost.

The most difficult part of the CSD is the feet. Your feet are spaced a little more than shoulder width apart, and you bend your knees when you stick your butt out. The feet however, carry on the tradition of left/right opposition that carries through the dance. The left foot keeps the weight on the heel, and moves the toes back and forth like the Mashed Potato. The right foot puts the weight on the ball of the foot, and moves the heel (and sometimes the knee) back and forth, not unlike the Twist. Feel free to switch the roles of the feet, should you celebrate Cranberry Sauce consumption long enough that the right leg grows fatigued.

This is the easy version.
I tried to explain this to my family, but I knew I would become flustered. Instead, I demonstrated it in the lobby, while we were waiting for the theater to be cleaned. When I finished a joyful round of the CSD (even though I would not be eating Cranberry Sauce) I looked up and realized a great many of the fellow movie-goers were watching me. So was the staff.

Oh, bother.


Sara Louise said...

I have a Pizza Night dance. it's the only way I can express my love for Tuesday nights (aka Pizza Night)

Unknown said...

Something about the CSD reminds me of that Baskin Robbins commercial. "Ice cream and cake and cake. Ice cream and cake and cake. Ice cream and cake do the ice cream and cake."

I think somehow CSD needs a similar jingle.

Lori said...

The new Baskin Robbins song sounds sooo much like the old "Peanut Butter Jelly Time" song!

But I agree, the CSD needs a theme song.

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During this course of study, you will come to learn much about the strange eating, sleeping and mating habits of the Instrospective Lori under stress. We will observe as she moves halfway across the country to start a life with her own Captain Wentworth, takes a year off of work to pursue a writing career, and incessantly references Jane Austen.
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