So there me and Candace were. Minding our own business. Doing the chicken dance in front of Penn Station. Because we had decided to walk from 23rd St. to Times Square by doing a different dance down each block. Naturally. And 34th St. was the chicken dance.
So we're minding our own business, doing the chicken dance, and the "clap clap clap clap!" part was getting a lot of attention. Not as much attention as our zombie walk got on 25th, but heads were turning. Including the head of Gerard Butler. And the rest of him. As well as his personal gentleman. He looked at us like we were crazy. With good reason. But he was dancing on the inside.
I smiled and waved at Mr. Butler. I didn't know who he was (of course). Candace informed me on the corner. And then we continued on our merry way, Macarena-ing down 35th.
The end.
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How completely ironic that you chose this particular dance to do in front of Gerard Butler, seeing as how he had just mentioned something about chickens at bachelor parties a few days prior. And you didn't even know who he was! LOL!
ReplyDeleteThis is proof that God indeed has a sense of humor. It's poetic justice, I tell you.
Be careful what you say, Gerry...God is watching you. :)