What do you say to your buddies at the bar, later in the evening, on the night this happens to you?
“Yo dudes. Tonight was whack. I mean, I was swingin’ that hot bitch Cheryl Burke around. On Dancing With the Stars, you know, like the network TV show I star on. They’re thinking of changing the name, I think. Anyway, we were like, doin’ the salsa and shit. It was hot, man, boner city. Oh yeah, oh yeah, I’ve banged her. So like, we’re like shakin’ our hips or whatever–yeahhh–like that–and I’m wearing this fluorescent silky tank top, and suddenly, my arm just feels like a friggin’ knife is ramming through it. I can’t deal, I’m like, sweating. And I can’t even focus on my hips anymore and I’m just like, yelling inside, I grab my arm and she keeps dancing. And then she spins over to me for a dip and I just drop her on the ground. It turned out to only be a muscle cramp, guys, but it hurt. It really hurt though, guys. Seriously, like worse than any football injury I ever had. Um. So who wants another round of beer?”
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