Robotic Rumba

I’m a fan of non-traditional dancing.

That’s not to say I have anything against the bumping and grinding gyrations that tend to dominate State College’s clubs and fraternities.

But I gave up a while ago on such dancing tips as “move your hips more” and “feel the beat.” Instead, I decided to specialize in such high quality old school dances as the electric slide, the macarena, the shopping cart and the mother of all inept dances: the robot.

And this weekend, the hours of practing those jerky head and hand movements finally paid off.

I ventured out on Thursday night and ended up at a fraternity. With many of the campus socialities preparing to leave for canning trips the next day, I figured the parties were more crowded than usual. In any case, I arrived after midnight and most people had already paired off or formed small groups.

I finally ended up hanging out in an awkward group with these two “Um, yeah, don’t really know anyone here” girls and a thin and gangly fellow with glasses.

After the move-your-legs-back-and-forth dance got a little old, I decided to break the ice with a nice macarena rendition. To my surpise, instead of giving me weird looks, the girls actually picked it up. Even the guy eventually joined in, now that it had become the cool thing to do.

With the macarena so successful, I decided the robot might have a chance as well. Besides, I had picked up some pretty amazing robot moves at last week’s break dancing competition and I was anxious to try them out.

I started with the sharp elbow movements, then the head flex. And the rest of the group actually bought it. In fact, I’m pretty sure that the guy was trying to get with the girls by out-roboting me. But no way was I going to let that happen.

Try as he might, he just wasn’t prepared for the rhythm-defying movements of all my extremities. He started to get the hands down, but the back and legs were just out of his league.

Just when it looked like I had a clear connection with the robo-admiring girls, her boyfriend and another, far less awkward, guy showed up. And the electricity was lost.

But at least it was a start. With a little more oil in the joints, the future of the robot looks bright.

T-shirt Troubles

It was Friday night and I had nothing to wear.

No, I’m not going metro. I just wasn’t ready to get back into the laundry-doing routine. With the majority of my shirts residing in the hamper, I had two choices left: my new, fashionable, sparkly long sleve shirts, and a black and white shirt with the words: "GEEK - PLEASE DATE."

It was a tough choice, but I decided to hope that girls like honesty.

I figured the best place to try out my new attire would be the HUB. I mean, it’s LateNight - there’s got to be at least one geek-friendly girl in the entire student union.

Unfortunatley, anyone even remotely geeky was already fully immersed in bingo by the time I got there.

So I tried the break dancing competition in Alumni Hall instead. I didn’t have much luck there, either.

Although I think my clothes were less dorky than the guy in the golfing attire, the ability to spin around on your back seems to count more with the ladies than what you’re wearing. After watching Rukkus, Frylock, and Da Future battle it out for break-dancing champion, I started to think that maybe I was targeting the wrong audience with my geek shirt.

So I left the HUB and tried a fraternity instead. I was surprised they even let me in with the geek shirt on, but once inside, the level of drunken revelry was so high that I doubted anyone there was still capable of reading anway.

Saturday night, I was determined to try something new fashion-wise. In fact, I was going to a highlighter party so I didn’t really have to think about what to wear. I just threw on my trusty Palmer Art Museum t-shirt, put my mini-highlighter in my pocket, and off I went.

Since the point of the party is to write on people's clothing, I figured everyone else could determine my fashion statement for me. All I had to do was get cool people to write cool stuff on my shirt and I was sure a change in my Facebook relationship-status would follow.

When I took of the shirt at the end of the night, one person had written that I was "sexy." There were also encouragements towards non-traditional intercourse and a drawing of what appears to be a bone-shaped, hairy object that I "love."

So while both nights were highly entertaining, my Facebook relationship status remains at single. At least that will leave me more time to do laundry this week.