Dear Drunken Dancing Women,
Thank you so much for blasting your music from your car under my window last night. Sure, the bars were closed and you didn’t have anywhere to get your groove going so that place was as good as any. I can’t believe I drifted off to sleep early, but you were there to wake me back up and say “Look how proud we are of our sound systems in our cars and see how we can all dance around our vehicles suggestively.” I know you were only thinking of me.
Now, if dancing around a car and yelling at one another were an Olympic sport, I’m sure the judges would have scored you as the best of the best. I watched from my window and saw your routine, circling your cars. I especially thought the time one of you jumped up on the car’s hood and did that booty shake was an added bonus. I’m sure the panel would stood with applause.
Of course, you wanted to share your talents with all of the residents of the nearby apartment buildings. After all, you own 3:38am in the morning, that time is yours and no one can take it away from you. Remember, no one!
The icing on the cake was the point when one of your “team” pulled down her pants to show off all that she had for the judges to see. I mean how could they not award you with the top medal, she was wearing gold metallic pants, I think she planned it that way.
Next time, I beg of you to give me some advanced warning so I can be appropriately dressed and join in with your 22 minutes to 4am antics. Oh, how I too want to sport the gold medals that were obviously bestowed upon you for your showmanship.
You do your parents, friends and families proud, you rumpshakers! You do know how to shake it like a Polaroid picture — Hey Ya!
(taawd’s sorry he didn’t think to get a picture of the women so they could see how good they were…)