That’s your own fault.”Īmy tried to help. There you g–no, nooo, don’t actually sit down-well, now you’re on the floor. “Here, Kristen I’ll hold this chair, and you just try to hit the seat of it with your butt. There were my two girlfriends, Brianna and Amy, who picked up on the booty poppin’ dance move quickly, and Amy’s two male housemates, who refused to twerk themselves but very graciously offered tips and held chairs. Black Twerking Spirit Guide (is that racist?) chose me, not them.īut on this boiling hot night in LA, Black Twerking Spirit Guide (racist? yes? no?) wasn’t there to help me. “I TWERKIN’!!!!” I roared back, raising my beer towards my posse of white people who couldn’t twerk either. I twerked to the best of my abilities, as she used her (very strong) hands to help my butt shake itself up and down. She then proceeded to slide her hands BENEATH MY SWIMSUIT BOTTOMS AND ONTO MY BARE BUTT. (Usually not a command you should obey, kids.) “I don’t know how to twerk,” I explained. My only other experience twerking was in Las Vegas the week before at a pool party called Rehab, a very drunk and lovely black girl stumbled towards me in the water with a big smile on her face. The five of us gathered around a laptop in the living room and searched “How To Twerk” on YouTube. One night, out of sheer boredom and probably some mental instability brought on by the fact that they didn’t have air conditioning, we decided to learn how to twerk. So last week I was down in LA visiting some friends.
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