Saturday, April 28, 2012

Right about now – check it out now! Last week at some stage I had the obnoxious, Miranda July-esque idea to videotape myself dancing. I just went straight ahead and improvised a dance, in my study, in my pyjamas. If I had thought it through a little more, I might have put on a more flattering outfit, some makeup, or at least a bra.

Hipster doofuses who watched The Future have actually taken up the idea of July's character Sophie, who decides to take a month off work, during which time she will choreograph, perform and post online a different dance every day. Predictably, she gets stuck on the first day and never records any dances.

Then there are the Frankies who seek adorbz points by recording themselves dancing in public places.

Of course, Spike Jonze was the first of the lot, back in 1998, with the video to Fatboy Slim's 'Praise You'.

The song I danced to was also by Fatboy Slim, from the same album. It was 'The Rockafella Skank'. Fatboy Slim – that guy kicks ass! How tremendous is Fatboy Slim? The band of the '90s, if you wanna call it a band, because it's a one-man name.

However, I am not thin and pretty, so I am afraid to upload my video anywhere because when fat people record themselves performing, it doesn't matter how fierce, funny or talented they think they are – they become Mockery Memes, such as Star Wars Kid or Numa Numa. Although this fat kid has got some serious moves…

And this chick, despite not being fat, still provides the funniest dance fail I have ever seen.

Anyway, the purpose of this blog post was to at least salvage some coolsie points by reporting that I had done this, hence the screen shots. Because let's face it – I wanted people to find me funny. But it had to be on my terms, with me included in the joke, not as its object. I've blogged before about what a low humiliation threshold I have.

I can't remember if I blogged about it at the time – probably not, because it hurt even to think about it – but last year Penny started up a skipping club and I joined because I always loved skipping in primary school and thought it would be fun to do it again even though I am calamitously unfit. But then the skipping club quickly got mistaken for an all-star skipping team, and was being reported on as a hot new trend and booked as hipstertainment for various functions.

I was cool about it the first time – hey, I got a free pair of sneakers out of an event we did for Vice/Converse – but then we were booked to perform at the opening of the State of Design festival and I was shitting myself about my poor skipping ability and looking stupid in front of all these designers. I have always felt very intimidated by designers – this dates back to the Is Not Magazine days when the magazine made Stuart and Jeremy the kings of designland and I never felt welcome in that world.

The skipping routine (which I had never, ever nailed in practice) started off really well. Our ropes were all synchronised for the first minute or so, and I had a moment of feeling really excited and proud, then as I tried to skip through the big rope, it knocked my glasses off my face and they went flying across the floor and there was a little "ohh" of concern from the crowd and I had to grovel to get them back and couldn't even see very well where they were on the floor and someone in the audience had to hand them to me, and anyway I was just dying inside but I put a smile on my face and pretended I was having a great time during the rest of the routine, and then after it was over it was as if I were a balloon deflating until I was actually shrinking and withering and burning as if in a flame, I was in agony but the other skipping people assured me that they had made heaps of mistakes too, and Penny told me I was being narcissistic and oversensitive because nobody had even noticed or cared and none of the others minded having made a mistake, but I was so eaten up with humiliation I felt physically in shock and didn't want to speak to anyone, and after sitting alone on the top level of the Exhibition Building for a while I decided to leave but then I ran into Max and his girlfriend Rosie and they were so nice that I just started sobbing hysterically in front of them and their friends, and then I was just so utterly destroyed that I had to run away out of the Exhibition Building and through the Carlton Gardens sobbing and onto a train and to my parents' house and when I told them what had happened I started sobbing again, and for weeks afterwards I cried whenever I thought about it (I am crying now as I type this) and I never went back to skipping club ever again because even thinking about skipping was enough to bring back the same terrible feelings, and while there is a video of the event that apparently doesn't include my humiliation, I cannot bring myself to watch it.

You might be thinking what a silly thing that was to get upset about, and what a delicate little flower I am, but I do take even the smallest humiliations deeply to heart and that's basically why I can't upload that dance video I made to YouTube. I always assume people are laughing at me behind my back but there is no need to invite it. Also, the video isn't nearly as funny as I thought it was while I was doing it, and I feel depressed that this is what I must look like to other people when I dance.

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