Before I continue this tale, I must mention that my roommates and I have recently been overtaken by the Christmas spirit in our estrogen-filled apartment, lovingly nicknamed "Nora." Ever since the first snowfall on Saturday morning, there has been talk of where to place our Christmas tree, how to hang our stockings, and of course, Nora has been filled with every kind of Christmas music, whether it be Maggie's personal favorite, Clay Aiken, the twins' obvious favorite, Britney Spears, or my preference, N*Sync.
Anyway, back to my story: Around 11:30, Maggie waltzes in the door, with her usual goofy smile and unusually bouncy walk, in an oddly good mood after not doing so well on a chem midterm (wommp wommmp....). When I ask why she is so smiley, she explains that she's been listening to Christmas music all morning (of course).
She has been listening to my favorite song, "Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays" by N*Sync (good taste Marge). If you haven't heard it, check it out; lyrically genius and so melodious. I told her how whenever I listened to that song I found myself dancing down the sidewalk on my way to class if nobody was around. She excitedly explained she had the exact same vision, and we immediately decided that all of our roommates should make up a choreographed dance to the song. Perfection, we were on the same page.
We then decided to start practicing that moment. We got up and started busting out possible moves (me, still in my footies, hair a crazy Mufasa mess, picture it...), getting more and more excited by the minute. I hadn't been this excited since my parents bought me an SVU t-shirt on a trip to NYC. Anyway, erroneous. This is where it gets exciting. Maggie decided that in the dance, she wanted cartwheels, flips, the whole shebang. She then came up with the idea that throughout the dance this move should be incorporated (some of you may remember this from elementary or middle school): Two people stand back to back, link elbows and one bends at the waste, flipping the other over their back to land on their feet. This worked when we were seven or eight because our tiny little bodies had no problem curling and tucking. She asked me to try it out with her... I immediately refused. Unfortunately, this is where Sammi walks out of her room and is ambushed by Maggie's request to help her out in this move.
After a little persuading, poor little Sammi agreed, unaware of the eminent consequences of her decisions. Her and Maggie cautiously link arms, back to back and prepare for the move. Maggie bends at the waste, resting Sammi on her back, but can't seem to flip her completely over her head. They start over, and Maggie asks me to flip Sammi's legs by hand. This is where Sammi becomes anxious. I tell her, "Sammi obviously I wouldn't let you fall!" By hearing my kind words of encouragement and by laying her safety in my trustworthy hands, she agrees to continue.
This is where it happened. Maggie bends, Sammi flips. I grab her legs, immediately push them towards the floor, over head, but somewhere along the line we all failed. In a flurry, Maggie's knees buckled, Sammi flew forward, they both hit the ground, Sammi upsidedown, headfirst onto the concrete floor, with her knee slamming into her face.
I shouldn't be trusted as a spotter. But who could be mad at a girl in penguin footie pajamas?
So there Sammi is, lying on the floor, clutching her head in one hand and her eye in the other, with the tiniest hint of tears welling up in her cute green eyes, yet all three of us can't stop laughing. She is able to drag herself up off the ground, already sporting a goose egg under her eye. Poor little Sam. I, being the wonderful friend that I am (better friend than spotter), got her an ice pack and instructed her to take some ibprofun.
Don't fret though, we shall continue to choreograph this N*Sync spectacle, after Sammi's injuries have healed. The show must go on. Perhaps though, we won't give Maggie creative reign. It's just a shame that now Sammi looks like this:
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