Today was the second of two master classes I attended led by a Yoruban talking drum master and his wife.  In the first class, the drum master spoke for an hour about his life and how he became a drummer.  Of his lecture I understood about 4% of what he was actually saying because his accent was so thick I felt like I had peanut butter in my ears.  We were then schooled on how to play the patterns on each drum and were brought up in groups to try them out.  I was in one of the last groups to try the drums, so I had a chance to watch at least 10 groups do the same thing, and I still managed to fuck up a pattern that involved all of two hits.

This week was all about Yoruban dancing, which I was pretty excited about considering I was once received the glowing accolade, “wow, your moves are so corny!” from a girl I was dancing with in a New York City bar.  My skilled moves originate from my rigorous training as a Bar Mitzvah dance floor maven back when I was 12 and 13 years old.  If you had given me a couple of Shirley Temples back in the day, I would rock the shit out of Hava Nagila on the dance floor.

So I came prepared to dance my ass off today and that’s exactly what I did.  Within about five minutes of thrusting my hips backward, pushing my chest forward, and waving my arms in the air kind of like a chicken, I was dripping with sweat and ready to pass out.  Nevertheless, I persevered through my complete and utter lack of cardiovascular stamina and was glad I did, because I came upon my new favorite dance move.

The ‘put on your pants’ move.

The drum master’s wife explained many of the dance moves in terms of daily activities, like ‘plant the seed,’ ‘chop the tree,’ ‘beat your wife.’

Juuuusttt kidding.  This isn’t redneck line dancing, wives stay bruise free!

So my new favorite dance move, “put on your pants,” looks exactly like it sounds.  You keep your torso straight and mime putting on your fresh new pair of green Hammer pants.   I’m definitely taking “put on your pants” to the club and using it to dance with black girls.

“Hey, check this out!  Check out how cultured I am!  Please make out with me!”

I’m pretty certain this will work.

The drum master’s wife was a very cool lady and explained to us that the dance we were performing was about loving yourself.  She told us you have to love yourself no matter how much money you have, your social status, if you are Jewish, etc.

She’s obviously never been Jewish.