Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

Sometimes you do something, and you get screwed.

Sometimes it’s the things you don’t do that screw you.

So I went to the dance team try-outs.

I wasn’t going to, because there was a fee to try out, but I was just like, you know what man, eff it, I’m goin’ for it, no guts no glory put your money where your mouth is kind of mentality y’know?

I get on that stage, I feel the spotlight on me, the music starts pulsing in the floor, it was on. Oh yeah, and I brought it. I flash-danced the f*ck out of those people’s faces. It was real.

After my flawless freestyle jazz/lyrical interpretive piece set to a customized mash-up of Crush/Faint by Paramore/Linkin Park (respectively), they asked me about my experience, and what special skills I hoped to bring to the team.
“Well,” I replied, “I’ve been drinking heavily for a decade.”
The coach was aghast. “So you’re telling me you’ve been a problematic drinker since you were nineteen years old?”
I was quiet a minute before I said, “Make that two decades. Sorry, I’m real bad at math. I got started when I was nine.”

They never called me back.
But I’m cool with that. Now that I think about it, I don’t think I want to be part of a crew anyways. There’s like, practices EVERY DAY and other types of “commitment-y” style going-ons involved, which indicates a serious lack of street cred to me.

Since when did keepin’ it real keep a schedule?


Get happy!

In retrospect, I think my mistake was in saying that I am a “heavy drinker.”  Coaches don’t care about that crap; they want to know what a person can bring to the team. I should have said that I could drink any college basketball team under the table. That’s a concrete skill to market!


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