I dreamt I was walking through a field of flowing blonde hair.
It was similar to when Russel Crowe walks through the wheat field in Gladiator. His exposed palm gently brushing the tender golden strands as he dreams of his olive skinned dame laying spread eagle on his satin sheets back home. Of course my experience wasn't followed by the savage stadium slaughter of men and beasts but a feeling of pure satisfaction when recalling what sparked this magical mental euphoria. Her.
My dancing shoes see the light of strobe less and less of late but are similar to Allen Iverson, they don't need practice.
The guy with his hand up under his beer soaked shirt mimicking a heart beat in time with the music. Thats so not me.
The first three things my son is gonna learn are going to be:
1. How to cheer for the Bengals
2. How to make perfect pancakes
3. How to do the heartbeat dance
Ladies feel free to copy this manouver, over the bra is best.
The moral of the story is no matter what hair you got..Beehive, Buzz-cut or Bouffant, let that shit down. And make sure your in an area where speakers are playing this:
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