Alcohol + Gymnastics = Perfect Storm

Death by Party | Action Bronson’s Strickly 4 My Jeeps = Perfect Jawn

I frequently do, or at least attempt to do, cartwheels at social gatherings. I love an audience. Especially if I am that perfect amount of fucked up that makes my limber childhood seem like a far less distant memory. I take it very seriously, centering myself and doing my best olympic gymnast arm stretch and toe tap. The cartwheel itself results in a varying degree of injury every time and, without fail, more and more cartwheels, maybe a round off and invariably culminates in me performing a full blown pom-pom routine.

Like your stereotypical high school football star turned old man, the more cocktails imbibed the more dedicated I become to displaying the stupid human tricks of my dancer’s past. I will show you something in a backbend, a classic split, treat you to some old cheerleading stunts and force you to admit that my kickline is STILL first place at dance camp worthy. Don’t let canadian whiskey and a pole be in the same room with me or you will surely be forced to watch me drag my old bones through a series of pole tricks and suffer through a lapdance- most likely with a play by play description of my signature moves. Just don’t let me get started on the old backyard wrestling…

Basically, there are a million reasons for you to want to buy me a drink. So let’s get on that.

I’ll take a unicorn horn too.

By Tricky Pitcher

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