A memory. I am in 8th grade in the fun process of unleashing my inner wild. I have platinum hair cropped to resemble an atomic bomb. I wear giant white t-shirts and short shorts with combat boots, eight earrings in each ear and bright red lipstick. Still I'm a nice girl. I'm goofy and polite and talk and laugh too much, which always seems to get me into trouble with the teachers. This is especially the case with Mrs. Loftsgaard the sexually closeted gym teacher with a full mullet and thick middle American arms. Her hands clamp onto a clipboard. Her tight lips blow a whistle wrapped around her neck signaling stop and go times in track and field activities.
This week we are to choreograph an aerobic routine with two partners to a song of our choice. I'm grouped with Trish and Diana two of my newly appropriated non-virgin smoker friends. I pop a Nitzer Ebb CD into the stereo and the three of us conduct our disorderly routine in front of the rest of the (now entertained) gym classmates. Mrs. Loftsgaard scowls, gripping her clipboard even tighter. The three of us laugh so hard, Trish pees her sweatpants. The song is cut short and we are all asked to leave.
Your task for today as internet peruser and super human is to come up with an aerobics routine to the very song I did my aerobics routine to over 20 years ago. If you like , you can send me a video of the process HERE.