Boy8's First Jam Sesh

I have a mini-passion in my life, and it makes me very happy.
When I drive anywhere, especially to work, I crank up the radio as loud as I can stand it, and I ROCK OUT. This means shaking my hair out and flipping my head everywhere, bouncing in my seat, occasionally singing along.
This little quirk of mine has given me many funny stories to tell, and even got me out of doing dishes at work once. I pulled up to the stop light across the street on my way in to work, and my shift leader saw me dancing as rambunctiously as I could manage with a seat belt on. Because it entertained him so profoundly, he deemed my Jam Session an "Epic Win," and informed me that I had immunity from all dishes responsibilities. See Dani Grin.
Tonight, we drove up to Grandma's house for her 74th birthday party, and on the way home, I broke out my earphones. Eric was sitting next to me in the back of the minivan and, not feeling inclined to listen to "I'm A Little Teapot" (Girl3's cassette choice), he asked me if he could listen to my music. I plugged him in, but informed him that I wouldn't let him listen if he didn't dance with me.
We cranked "Are You Gonna Be My Girl" by Jet, and I taught him how to dance like a wild animal. At first he was embarrassed, and when I told him what to do, he went, "....no! Heck no!" But as the car ride went on, he got more excited, and by the time we reached home, we had the whole song choreographed. I kept checking with him, saying, "this is fun, huh?!" and his reply is still making me laugh.
"Yeah!" he puffed, in between bounces on the minivan bench. "But it's so stupid!"

Ha, ha, ha! This was the first time I've spent bonding with my little brother in a really long time. I don't know why I find it so liberating to dance like a maniac in my car (or in my bathroom while I get ready, or in the back room at work when anybody could be watching, or cleaning my room), but it just makes me extremely happy, and it was so fun to have Eric participate in the madness with me.

Eric is totally right. It's silly. I look completely ridiculous. But really...that means absolutely nothing to me.
I will continue jammin' in my car (and bathroom and bedroom and kitchen and walk-in pizza freezer) until my joints turn to dust and I'm being carried around in an urn.
Smiling,
Girl 16.