“Oh no, but I don’t dance.” I protested. “Not unless it’s with my kids in the kitchen for dance party with my ladle as mah microphone. Or, if I’ve had a few cocktails.” (Or revisiting my Solid Gold glory days when I’m alone in the house.)

I said it. I meant it. I walk through life tripping over my own feet.

I was sober. I was over 1000 miles away from my kids. On a break during the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop. (Writers! Not dancers!)

But The Bearded Iris? She’s persuasive. I think the might have slipped something into my mystery lunch that day….because she got me to dance.

“Fine!” I relented. “Who’ll see it anyway?”

It’s on video. Which is now on her blog. And on you tube.

Probably no one thousands will see it.

We’ve talked about Bearded Iris before. She’s one of the funniest peeps I know, in writing and in person. And she made the video, which also stars members of her fam including her 5 year old son, Bucket Head, who steals the show at the end of the video (If you don’t laugh at his dancing you have no soul!) as part of a blogging dance challenge called…. #BloggersDance. I think it has something to do with bloggers dancing. I dunno.

My kids have made me play this video 763 times since they first saw it. I’m not kidding. They have been literally crying laughing while watching it every day since Bearded Iris first posted it on her blog last week.

So I’m sharing it. Mainly because I think we all need a laugh I need a fashion intervention please note my subtle cry for help.

Will ya please get a load of my choice of shirt—after last weeks shirt, you can see this is a legit fashion emergency, yes? Seems like the hubs is off the hook for letting me out in my psychadelic frock to meet Seth Meyers last week. The truth is out: I can’t dress myself. Look what I wore in the video? (Even my white undershirt/camisole/whatever it’s called is hanging below my shirt! Because it wasn’t disaster enough on its own!) I’m the one *cries inside* who looks like a realtor from Boca. (“Hi Bitsy, it’s Mitsy. Oh my Gawd, I have a fabbbbulous 3/2 right by the beach. It’s to DIE fowwwah! Cawl me!” )Or a cruise ship passenger from  small town East Asshat, Nowhereville, lettin’ it all hang out somewhere in the Caribbean, thinking, “Wahooie! No one knows me HERE!” after drowning in generic umbrella drinks.

Where are Stacey and Clinton and why haven’t they answered my desperate pleas? I’ve blogged about this here!!! We need a campaign: Dress me up, Muffin Top. I should not be allowed to shop alone or dress myself. The only good news is The Bearded Iris thinks I can seriously make some dough making faces for a living. I’ll see what you guys think about that. I’m thinking the face making biz isn’t too great after about the third grade, but maybe you know a guy who know’s a guy? I’m still waiting to hear from Lorne Michaels after my last blog post about Seth Meyers. I know he’ll reach out any minute now when muffin tops fly.

Also? A round of applause for the other dancers, including the star of the vid, Bearded Iris. And, my blogging sister from another Mister, Dawn from Lighten Up! Dawn and I both love domestic beer in a can (She’s the Miller to my Bud…hey, no one’s perfect. The Laverne to my Shirley. And the Faded Glory to my Merona. If you understand a word of this, you know we get along alllll right. She took the pic of me with the Bombecks and I actually had my eyes open!) You need to check out her hilarious blog. And tell her you’re sorry my fig bat head blocked her cute blonde self out of a lot of the video. Then there’s Suniverse. She is one sassy, saucy, sarcastic mama. She is ALL the best s words rolled into one and she let’s it rip on her blog, Suniverse. You won’t see her face because she’s sooo ripping it up s style that she blogs anonymously. I seriously don’t know her real name. If someone takes me in a dark room and threatens me with bodily harm threatens to take away all my beer forever I swear I.don’t.know.her.name. I just know she’s a howl and you can visit her blog here.

You know something? The Bearded Iris was right though. Dancing does make you feel good—because if you dance like me, you laugh so hard you really do cry.  And no smarty pants doctor can prescribe anything better than that!

(Because I’m remedial techno tornado, no clue how to get the you tube video to show up in a box. Just click the text link below and it will take you there and not to your Nigerian lottery winnings, I swear!)

watch?v=b9XgYnZbEL4&feature=plcp