The Fancy Funky Fandango

Someone reminded me that I will be 38 years old this year. That same someone told me that I don’t act that old. I thanked her for the compliment and as I walked away I had a chance to think about what she’d said. She hadn’t said that I didn’t LOOK 38 years old, but that I didn’t act like it. I am still fatuously grateful for the compliment, even if it wasn’t the one I thought she gave me. As a side note, she later explained that she meant that I don’t seem that old and I suppose that could include my actions as well as my looks. For the record, I don’t feel 38 years old, and I sure as hell don’t act like it. I think I am ready to let my twenties go though. They were very good to me, but I look forward to bigger and better things in the coming years. Age is just a number anyway. You are only as old as you think you are and while I wanted to be a grown up, even as a kid, I never wanted to get old. That feeling is not shared by my contemporaries.

I have friends and other folks I know that approach me every few weeks, their hands clasped together in a double fist so tight their knuckles are white while they wear an expression of urgency and expectation on their faces. They can’t wait to tell me what their new malady is. Lord, its leper colony out there. One guy insists on telling me the frequency with which his erection flags and his concern that he has a low sperm count. He asked me if this had ever happened to me (he is 3 years younger than I). I told him that sperm count and erections are completely unrelated and that my payload, and the delivery system (everything from the ICBM to the Minuteman), have always worked just fine. I thought he was going to have a heart attack when I told him this. In fact, a week later he came to me and said that he thought he was having chest pains and went to the hospital where they told him he had gas, gave him some pepto and sent him home. Another guy thought his colon was blocked because he had been constipated for three days. Another colleague of mine can hear about a rare disease on television which affects only the Australian Bushmen and within a week he will have developed symptoms which mimic with precision the Australian Bushmen disease, this despite the fact that he is neither Australian nor a Bushman. I am convinced that when he does die, his last words will be “See, I told you so”.

The point of all this is my confusion at these people’s disappointment when they found out that nothing is wrong with them. I am convinced that it isn’t age that is killing people, it is the stress on these people from worrying about what is going to kill them. To that end, here are a few tricks I have developed to combat stress.

(1.) Dance.. I don’t mean the formal dancing you’ve seen taught in college nor even the rhythmic shaking that one would see a club. No no, I am talking about MY dance, which I am prone to bust out at any time. Here is how it is done: Step 1: Squat down so that the top half of your body is parallel to ground and your rear end is stuck out and slightly up, your legs should be bent at the knees (unless of course you’ve figured out some other way to get into this position without doing so). Step 2. Your arms should be slightly bent at the elbows (unless of course you have unhealed compound fractures and then you may bend your arms at any point you choose) Step 3. The music should now start in your head, audible music is acceptable, but is not nearly as much fun. Step 4. Ok, start with you legs, straighten and then re-bend first your right leg and then your left leg so that your body is gently rocking from side to side, simultaneously work your butt up and down, continue while at the same time punching the air first with you left hand and then your right hand at the end of every third punch, do a windmill with alternating arms and alternating directions, continue.. at the same time, bob your head from front to back, left to right and every 4th revolution stick out your tongue and auto-rotate your head like the helicopter pilots do. Finally, if you’re not too dizzy by this point, spin your entire body around every 60 seconds, pause and then place each hand on your knees and do the “crossover” three times. Repeat as necessary. I call this dance the Fancy Funky Fandango. You get extra points if you do it in a set of Kocha Shells and a loin cloth.

(2) Sing. But don’t just sing a song, just snippets of random lyrics to the tune of an entirely unrelated song. For example combine Gavin DeGraw’s “I’m In Love With a Girl”, The Moody Blues’ “Nights in White Satin” and Motley Crue’s “Girls, Girls, Girls” to form “I’m in love with a girl in White Satin, Long legs and burgandy lips.” Sing it to the tune of 2 Pac’s “California Love” just for fun.

And finally,

(3) Exercise. I don’t do this as often as I should. Just for fun, moonwalk around the track. Or play a prank. My favorite is to put olive oil on the weight bars.

So there you have it, my tips for combating stress. We all need to laugh a little and at times, we need to laugh a lot, even at ourselves. Now get out there and have some fun!


Take care, be well and do good work.

Trialdawg.