I May Not Be Able To Stomp The Yard But I Can Stomp A Roach

Spawnette and I have taken up a new type of entertainment. As a single mom, cheap entertainment is always the best kind; she and I are reality TV junkies. WAIT; don’t stop reading just because we have lowered ourselves to the very depths of Dante’s sixth circle where those of us are strongly at variance with the accepted opinion that she and I are not the coolest of cool.

Because we are.

This nightmare I speak of….well it would have been if you were there….all started when Spawnette was flipping through the channels and stumbled across Mario Lopez hosting “Randy Jackson Presents: America’s Best Dance Crew!” (Don’t forget the exclamation point!) I’m not much of a dance show connoisseur, I don’t do that whole “Dancing With The Stars” thing, but when a girl like me catches a glimpse of a man/boy like this all hell breaks loose in Cougar World.

So there I am, chopping away at onions and garlic for my noodles Florentine in a light cream sauce when it hits me from behind. The thomping. The stomping. I can’t keep my feet still. There are men all over the television screen gyrating and moving making the most hypnotic beat I’ve ever heard.



Spawnette and I immediately began to duel in the middle of the kitchen floor and if I don’t say so myself I R-O-C-K. Throw in a little hambone and we were ready for the next crew:



By the time I was through showing Spawnette who da boss was she was sweating up a storm and I was looking for my first place trophy.

Hey, you wanna throw down? Cause I be flippin’!