Lisa was inexplicably absent from class this week, and we're pretty sure the girl in our class in the velour jumpsuit, sweatband and gold hoops complained and got her booted. The new assistant never yelled or laughed at us, even when Bev B said "You wanna know why you guys suck?"
Bev B harped on us for 90 minutes about our breathing and how we don't do it enough. People, you have to remember to breathe! Breathe! I can't hear you breathing! Don't blame me when you all die from lack of oxygen. No one in this room is breathing and you're all gonna end up dead. So she said that, times 1,000. It got a little old.
Bev B, please chill. It's not like my face is being held underwater as the rest of my body gets crunk. I won't forget to breathe - it's like, kinda impossible to do that while conscious. I breathe so often, one might call it second nature. Despite my mad hip-hop skillz, I'm actually better at breathing than dancing. I don't have dance-induced apnea or stretching asthma. It's going to be ok. I'm inhaling and exhaling, repeatedly, as I have done without prompting for 26+ years.
Also, I figured this out…
Crump is a verb.
I crumped yesterday. I love to crump. Let's crump!
Crunk is different.
I got crunk. Let's get crunk.
So you can get crunk while crumping, but you can't get crump while crunking. Make sense?
Intro to Italy: Welcome to Sorrento with Monograms
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