So I love to play Rock Band, right?
So for Christmas, I bought 'the boys' Rock Band 2.
Oh. My. God.
Fleetwood Mac, Billy Idol, Journey. I'm in all kinds of 80's Heaven.
So in order to keep my fat, happy ass off their game, they broke down and bought me my own game.
Dance Dance Revolution.
Wait a minute. I forgot. In order to be cool and sound like I know what I'm talking about I need to refer to it only as DDR. (Thank the good Lord they didn't get me the Hannah Montana version)
I don't think I like this game as much.
It requires movement.
I'm not saying I don't need movement. Because if you've ever taken a gander at my backside it would immediately become evidently clear that I do.
I just don't want it. Movement, that is.
You also need coordination.
Which, surprisingly I have.
Have you ever watched the dancing sows on an episode of Hee Haw?
That's me!
I'm a corn fed gal, but I can cut a rug with the best of 'em.
If need be.
However, DDR (because I'm nothing if not cool) is a pad with nine squares. It requires quick feet and jumping.
My thighs are still burning and I haven't touched it for two days.
But I will.
As God as my witness, I will DDR for at least three days a week for 30 minutes.
Sshhhh.
Maybe He didn't hear that last Scarlett-like proclamation.
But here's the God-lite Chet and a dandy example of my dancing prowess.
Get it? Sowess-Prowess?
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