Let’s Dance…ok, YOU Dance…i’ll watch.

I wish I could dance. But alas my body and my love for music just don’t get along. I can jump around and mosh like no ones business and used to be able to break dance a little (no power moves, but knew some steps and was remotely athletic). But getting my groove on, shaking booty, cutting a rug, burning the floor and looking remotely co-ordinated is pure fantasy. Let alone winning the girl.

My best mate, Ben tells me NEVER to dance with the women I pursue because I just look awkward. He is dead on; I know I look awkward because I feel awkward. Shakira sang ‘Hips don’t lie”…my hips say….BAD WHITE MAN DANCING! My strength is conversation when trying escort the ladies to somewhere private.

I look especially bad with some guy pop-locking a storm next to me on the left and natural talented African guy, dancing with his even more talented girlfriend on my right. I’m waiting for “Stuck in the Middle’ to start up for the pure irony. It’s truly a train wreck.

Nope, this is certainly not me...

I try to keep my movement to an absolute minimum. Although my victory dances aren’t terrible (as I was told by my friend once), that dance pretty much is a shrug and shuffle, similar to something you see from Snoop Dogg in the video to “Beautiful”. You can’t do that for 5 hours to “Bonkers” and “Sexy Bitch” in club.

Drop it...I really should just drop it...

I’m no Justin Timberlake. It’s a true shame too. Because it’s common belief that it (dancing well) shows how good you are in bed. Now for obviously purely selfish reasons…I vehemently disagree. I dance like old people fuck; slow and sloppy (thanks again George Carlin). How I fuck is for you to find out…if you single and female under the age of let’s say 35.

Rocking bodies..till the break of day...apparently

Maybe I should blame Justin for his smooth moves on the dance floor, because now every woman wants a man that can dance. I also blame my hatred of dancing and people who can do it well on my 2^nd long-term girlfriend…who was dance instructor. The woman could move extremely well and tried to teach to me…but to no avail (as I refused her attempts on every occasion). She wants Channing Fuckface from whatever dance flick it was and i’m Bill Hicks but not funny.

Yes, I actually know what film I was talking about...

‘Real men, sit, sweat and curse’ – Bill Hicks (in reference to dancing in nightclubs).

I’m usually the guy in the club in the darkest corner, with a drink in my hand, looking surly. Well that’s when I’m not playing with the strobe light in the booth or hitting on some girl…I digress.

Do you suffer the same as I?  Or do you look cool and dance like someone Natalie Bassingthwaite would talk to on TV? Or do you look the next move will break thy hips and snap thy ankle in two?……….sorry I was watching an adaptation of a Shakespeare play on TV. Titus, I think.

Over-dramatic as this is topical blog is, it is a curse being without any form of rhythm. Gav: the man born with two left feet and the dancing co-ordination of someone on Xanax held by strings being controlled by a puppeteer on Meth.

But who can turn down and an attractive woman, motioning for you to join her on the dance floor for a boogie? Damn well knowing, you’re as useless as tits on a bull on this or ANY dance floor, so you hope to hell you can coax her off the floor and to the bar or a couch somewhere. Or drag into you and let her do the work and mirror her movements. This is my plight.

So i’ll shuffle (badly) through life with my dancing disability, hope to hell the woman is dumb enough to sit down with me and chat about life, herself and the possibility of sexual intercourse later that evening, because on the dance floor I’m doomed to fail miserably.

With Elaine-like moves

Gav

Brain Splatter…by ‘The Bear Jew’ (Yes, I loved Inglorious Basterds)

As much as I like you people *cough*… I wish I was driving on a California Road right about now. No need for a blonde bombshell, no starlets. Just me, the sunroof open and listening to Led Zeppelin…picture that…my gift to you.

I hate finding out the woman you were flirting with last night is 17 (thanks Facebook Mobile)…thank fuck I didn’t try anything!

I wonder if there is a guy out there with smaller cock than Lady Gaga? I expect the response of ‘you’ at some point. P.S This is last Gaga penis joke I’ll do…I promise.

For some reason this week, I’ve seen a few too many people bleeding…none of which caused by me.

When I decide to start on this book (e.g. Find the funds to go away for a year and write constantly), who should I dedicate it too? Someone always dedicates their book to someone…I think it should be Rosie Beaton.

Channel V Presenter, Jane Gazzo responds to her fans on Twitter. I wrote about how my mates at the radio station think I’m insane for thinking she is amazing (which she is). She follows me on Twitter now (why I’ll never know). Jane defended herself on my Twitter when I mentioned that my mates don’t think she’s bangin’.

JaneGazzo@GavinCrossley Who says you have strange taste? Not FHM Magazine! They voted me no.24 in their Sexiest Women of the World issue in June!

JaneGazzo@GavinCrossley What am I? Bride of Frankenstein? It is them with strange taste… not you sir.. not you.

Jane you are a superstar. Blog love for you.

Ok you doubted my awesome video from last week….fine. How about this…

NINJAS!

Like I wrote in last fortnights’ edition of the splatter, that I’ve been working like a dog lately, which is why I’m announcing to you that pushing my radio broadcasting shit into the background for a bit while I bust my arse for the fucking road trip. No more radio shows for a while. I need more spare time.

Note to women with engagement rings in nightclubs…hitting on the single guys is not good for your relationship…leave me alone…and handball to your SINGLE friends to me, please.

I find it funny that there are in-depth reviews of Porn films.

Don’t you hate it when you drop your car keys down an elevator shaft…this HAS happened to me!

Boredom is my muse. Keep me busy this blog doesn’t happen. Maybe I need a girlfriend?

You have colon cleansing…why can’t they do brain cleansing…my god I need it.

I listen to too much Dance music…next thing you know I’ll own a fuckin Skyline, with a blower valve (or whatever it’s called), with a sub-woofer in the trunk…help me!

Silly, weird occurrences are creeping back into my life…if my Stalker and The Crow return…look out! Fuck, 2007 was a bad year!

Aren’t you glad that Bec Hewitt stopped making music? Was she supposed to be Home & Away’s answer to Neighbours’’ Delta Goodrem…what a weak response that was.

Isn’t this decade littered with shitty pop acts from Australia? I blame Idol.

Another person that needs to stop is Mariah Carey…don’t get me wrong…I’ve drooled over Mariah since the early 90s (yep, an 8 year boy thinking…shheeeesss pretty)…but isn’t time for her to take a residency at a Vegas Casino like Celine Dion did….good money in it too, Mariah…

Stupid interruptions I was on a roll and I had to go to work…does happen to you?

Stupidest thing I saw on the road this week: A Mercedes Benz with Body Modifications…what the fuck…IT’S A LUXURY CAR…IT NEEDS NOTHING ADDED ON….Fuck Sake!

It was almost this bad…

You know what a fun word to say is…Zoo. Say with me ZZzzzzZZZzzzzooOOOoooooo. See; fun… if you got strange looks from people around you. Don’t blame me.

I’m taking advice from a friend of mine…I will actually write about a subject. Maybe how one man could invade a country and make impact…or about watching boobs bounce…fuck knows.

I’m going to invade Tasmania…they need some strong leadership down there.

I still want to fight a Camel.

Have you realised that they’re playing songs from 1998/99 on the radio now…even on Nova…let’s hope this doesn’t delve too deep into this era…like this song coming back…

Boy Bands, Shit dance music…at least we had no Idol winners or rejects back then.

Chant this on a Sunday Morning at Breakfast…AGB, AGB, AGB, AGB, AGB….speaking of which….

AGB done…

Minus the racism…I’m going to be like Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino in 40 years, a miserable, bitter, lonely, grumpy old bastard.

‘Gitoffmylawwwnnnnnn’

To women in nightclubs who grind against my crotch…I salute you.

You mention your worst way you were woken, but I have nominee for ‘worst shit to be woken up by after a big night’. I was woken by 3 successive and ascending levels of shitness…firstly a dog fight in my front yard (Gitoffmylawwwn!), then a Vacuum Cleaner at 8:34am, then to top it off someone playing JOHN WILLIAMSON loud at 10ish. Hey, True Blue…fuck off and die in a fire!

I think it’s sad that they’re are songs out there about their dogs…Country Musicians are mostly the guilty party here.

In a domestic violence case, does any ever think about the furniture…no you don’t…that poor Vase.

If I was willing to come out of my comfort zone, I’d fuck in the street.

Here is my Men’s guide to marriage… avoid it all costs. This is very similar to my guide to children, love and committing to anything with no REAL reward…apart from your shitty job…because that keeps you off the street.

My name is Gavin…and I can’t dance…in fact that going to be topic for my new topical blog…the experience of a white man with absolutely no rhythm or body control…I’m really awful.

I’ve got a second job as a ‘door bitch/amateur photographer/PR boy’ at a local nightclub in my area. I love berating the patrons who whinge about a door charge (it’s nightclub for fuck sake!). My favourite comeback so far:

Dude: Com’on let me in for free for being a nice guy.

Gav: A nice guy wouldn’t ask about getting in for free

*4-5 second pause*

Dude: Fuck, can’t say anything to that

Gav: 10 dollars, sir.

I came a little.

On this note…*plays B Flat* i’m outtie.

Regards and a naughty lil’ spanking…

Gav