Gluteus Maximus Pile Driver

The United States led an international conversation on Sunday to force President Hosni Mubarak to listen to the Egyptian people's demands for democracy. But there was little indication that the wrinkled dictator would budge, at least for now.

With all this confusion plaguing the pyramid strewn country, I feel that it is my duty to give the people of Egypt credit for their courage and dancing style. Thank Ra and Orsis that the Egyptians created the "Egyptian" dance move. If only I had followed in Pharaoh's footsteps and done the "Egyptian" this weekend, then an innocent life would have been left unmarred.

The scene unfolds as I was dancing on a VIP party platform several feet above the club dance floor. Please do not misinterpret that statement by painting a picture of me dancing atop a table, thank you. When the song "Apple Bottom Jeans" exploded through the sound system, my body took flight into what one may call modern art, a mating dance, or straight up booty dancing.

Unknown to me was the distance between my feet and the edge of the stage. As my body reacted to the intense beat of the song, it did a fairly common dance move, The Drop It Like It's Hot. As my rear end descended downward in a swift dropping motion it collided with a very solid object. Startled, I turned to find a large black woman laying on the ground directly under my bum. My fanny had flattened this female to the floor!

It was a run by rumping. Booty bump, tush push, rump thump, hindquarter sneak attack, it does not matter what you call it; I took that poor girl out with one gluteus maximus pile drive!

So when life gets dark and dreary in Egypt or wherever you may be, don't forget that some crazy white boy might plop his fanny down on your unsuspecting head. Hey, maybe the Rump Thump can be the dance move that gets President Hosni Mubarak out of office!

Somnambulism: A friend maker

Today, I am prepared to reveal an extremely personal piece of information. According to the National Sleep Foundation, I, Lee P.Cannon, suffer from a behavioral disorder. Now this may not come as a huge shock to those of you who have had the pleasure of being exposed to my disorder, but to the innocent reader who believes that I am merely a victim of awkward experiences, this may shake your confidence in my mental stability. I am a survivor of somnambulism.

Somnambulism is a behavior disorder that originates during deep sleep and results in walking or performing other complex behaviors while sleeping. In layman terms, I am a sleep walker.

Now sleepwalking might seem like a great theme for a 1940's horror film, in which the male antagonist butchers his lover Lucille with the blunt end of a plunger while "sleepwalking". It has also been the rationalization for many sex-capades throughout history (see http://www.sleepsex.org/ for more details). But for me, sleepwalking is simply a way of life.

Recently, I have taken to stripping my body down to the prenatal state while sleeping and then taking adventures beyond the bedroom. When I wake, instead of being in my plush pillow top queen bed, I will find myself sprawled out in the arm chair, snuggled in the tub, or sitting on my kitchen floor: always naked. This nude awakening has always been a welcome surprise until it became a public affair.

The last time my tired eyes opened to find my exposed body in an odd location I was propped up against the railing of my patio. Some patios might be prime locations for nude nocturnal narratives, but my patio is down town Salt Lake City. Located 36 inches away from a fairly busy street lay bare the Lee Cannon modern art exhibit.

I have no excuse for my public display of flesh, but only good has come of the event. I was expecting a phone call from the police informing me that I would be appearing before a judge to be sentenced for my indecent exposure ticket. But instead, I received 16 friend requests on Facebook that day. Sixteen complete strangers from Salt Lake City happen to add me in the wee hours of the morning during and after my most recent au naturel stroll. Thank you Somnambulism, you truly are the best friend maker.

Ending 2010 On A High Note

In the light of the season of goals, lifestyle change and over eating, I ventured into the world of retail therapy to rehabilitate my need for radiant raiment. Little did I know that on this innocent outing I was to be visited by own Ghost of Christmas Past, much like Charles Dickens' classic character Ebenezer Scrooge.

The spirit came to me in the form of a store clerk. A young man in his late teens with fairly poor hygienic qualities, the Ghost of Christmas Past looked at me with a quizzical excitement. When I acknowledged his eagerness for social intercourse he bleated out, "Are you Lee Cannon?" This caught me off guard, but my affirmative answer led him to explain, "I was you for Halloween last year!"

Normal children dress up as vampires, monsters, Hilary Clinton or mummies on Halloween night, but this pimpled adolescent chose to get gussied up as Lee Cannon. I could not decide if I should be flattered or offended at his outward adoration for the LeeLee of my youth. The high road was taken, and I graciously accepted his declaration with a hesitant, "Thanks?"

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and I am proud to support future generations using this photo as the raw material for a spectacular Lee Cannon Halloween costume. Thanks 2010 for ending on a high note!


P.S. My favorite reaction to this piece so far has been from Claudia Bigler, "I can't think of another local mortal that this would happen to. Infamy has reached our little world."