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July 28, 2002

The Money Dance


Ch-ching!

Thanks to whomever gave us $2.50 this morning. It’ll go towards the Beach house. Once we get it, everyone is invited. Only $400K to go.

It also gave birth to the Money Dance. Its got a conga line beat, and a chant that goes

“Somebody gave me mo-NEY! Somebody gave me mo-NEY!”
“Somebody gave me mo-NEY! Somebody gave me mo-NEY!”

The basic money dance move is a spastic version of the Twist. I performed it shirtless. It was singularly unattractive, especially since the gym shorts I had on when I got up this morning were a tad large, and prone to slippage. I also had bed head. Yes, the first thing I do in the morning is check the blog. What do you do?

So, as I said, unattractive. Unless you happen to be a toddler, then it’s irresistible. Ngnat had been sitting at her table in the corner, intent on ruining her Miss Weather Color-forms, until she saw the magic that is the money dance.

Since in her life all things must be done correctly, she insisted I remove her pajama top before she joined in, staggering about the room like a two-foot, half-naked drunk.

“Sommama gay me mah-NEE! Sommama gay me mah-NEE!”
“Sommama gay me mah-NEE! Sommama gay me mah-NEE!”

Stop. Yank at pajama bottoms. After all, that’s what dad was doing.

A few seconds of this were enough attract outside attention, and the sainted wife and mother viewed us from the door rather bemusedly until we reached the stop and yank portion of the presentation.

“What are you doing?”

“The Money dance!”

“Mahnee Nance!”, echoed from the floor.

“And why are you doing the Money Dance?”

“Somebody tipped the blog! Somebody gave me mon-NEY! Somebody gave me mon-NEY!”

“Sommama gay me mah-NEE! Daddy…Stop!” Ngnat had observed a flaw in the proceedings. There were three people present, yet only two were doing the money dance. She waved a finger in her mother’s direction.

“Mommy, take off shirt!”

“Yea! Mommy take off shirt! Mommy take off shi-RT! Mommy take off shi-RT! I’ll give you some mo-NEY! I’ll give you some mo-NEY!”

Ngnat liked the new dance. “I gib you so-MOMMY! I gib you so-MOMMY!”

And so Mommy took off shirt!

Well, no. Mommy did not take off shirt. I put that in there to make her family gasp in horror. While Ngnat and daddy were very amusing, we were not at all convincing. You’re more likely to see Margaret Thatcher prancing around with her boobs in the wind. Momma was not about to descend to our animal level.

At least, not for $2.50.

Posted by Bigwig at July 28, 2002 02:11 PM | TrackBack
Postscript:
First time visitor to House Hraka? Wondering if everything we produce could possibly be as brilliant/stupid/evil/pedantic/insipid/inspired as the post you just read? Check out the Hraka Essentials, the (mostly) reader-selected guide to Hraka's best posts, and decide for yourself.
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