I don't regularly fling myself around the kitchen to the frantic and thunderous beat of my new favorite earcandy for no particular reason. I am building stamina for the brutal Lip Syncho De Mayo annual contest at Tracie and Andrew's. Unfortunately, such high-level competition requires more than stamina. People come to play.
Yet the voting pool is a fickle fickle mistress. In a shocking turn of events, the Dirty Love number was passed over for a place on the podium.
The routine, which defied all reason and social order, lasted approximately four and a half minutes. Marc presided over the Frank Zappa ruckus with Bacchanalian charm, a fuzzy black headsuit and a dragon air guitar. Claire, obviously corrupted by dangerous peer pressure, sported black tights, frisky gold sandals and a brazen poodle fetish. She worried that her children would find out she was out after midnight drinking beer, socializing and shakin' her money maker unsupervised. She commented, "My kids keep encouraging me to stay home and hang out in the basement playing Risk."
Meanwhile, looking like the love child of a sinister B-movie villain and Gandalf the Wizard in trucker shades, Bill loomed over the high energy dramatics. According to Bill, the bold and provocative number was the culmination of a month of rehearsals, 27 years of late-night guitar playing, and six weeks of lengthy phone conversations with famous local Crunk star, Solja Boy. He noted for the record that he has never eaten a crayon and this has neither improved nor diminished his mad skills in the lip-sync space.