I can’t dance with you because my girlfriend is out of town and I promised I wouldn’t. All I can do is watch.
My husband is leading.
I can’t dance in these pants.
My back hurts.
The floor is too sticky.
I am dizzy from too much spinning.
I haven’t had enough to drink yet.
I've got carpet tunnel in my right wrist and sometimes the pain goes down into my toes which makes my one foot numb (the same foot as my wrist); therefore the one affects the other. When that happens I can't tell my right foot from my right wrist or what they're doing?!! Help me, please...
I’m suffering from excessive Toe Jam.
I fell off the tractor and the big tire ran over my right foot.
Let’s wait until more people are on the floor. We don’t want to be the only ones dancing.
The floor is too crowded.
There are too many bad dancers on the floor.
It was too dark so I couldn’t see the floor.
That #&*@! disco ball is disorienting me!!
I’ve never done that dance.
I don’t have the proper shoes.
I’m wearing another man’s shoes.
I’ve had too much to drink so my lead may be a little off.
My dog ate my dance shoes!
Everyone hits on me.
New shoes – my feet hurt.
Somebody might think we’re together!
I’m waiting for a call (I’m waiting for my pants to buzz). (This one was questionable, but we’re putting it on here anyway.)
The exhuberant dog with the long (hard as steel) nails, jumped up on me and bruised my legs.
Sorry, but I’m allergic to polka.
My dance shoes don’t know how to dance.
I’ve had some toes cut off and I can’t feel my legs?
I’d love to dance, but I can’t because my pet hamster is asleep in one of my dance shoes.
I’d love to dance, but I can’t because our family goat slipped out of it’s bedroom and ate my dance shoes.
I got bucked off Penny’s horse (named Pokey!) and broke my ribs and can’t breath deeply enough to dance.
I’m not dancing well because I was up late last night skinning a hog.
I can’t dance because….. my shoes always come untied and I can’t bend over my fat belly to tie them.
I can’t dance because….. dance shoes hurt my feet! I have the gout!
I can’t dance because…… my feet can’t find the rhythm.
I can’t dance because…… I can’t tell what type of dance you do to the music.
I can’t dance because…… I can’t remember any moves or think of what to do after the basic step.
I can't dance because....my knees are to so bad, that not only can tell it is going to rain but they knock to their own rhythm.
I can't dance because....I am embarrassed every time the dance instructor stops class and explains to everyone what I am doing wrong and gives me the Vulcan Mind Meld...then I can no longer think!
I can’t dance because……I have verdigo and walking backwards doesn’t help!
I can’t dance because……some people have a third nipple…. I have a third leg!
I can’t dance because……Yoga makes me so relaxed that I can’t dance
I can’t dance because……I spent my dance money on singing lessons and now it is too late!
I can’t dance because……I am Baptist and we are not allowed
I can’t dance because……I am such a bad dancer that I got kicked out of ballet class at the age of 5.
I can’t dance because……I love looking in the mirror to much!
I can't dance because it takes me 3 to 4 years to learn the basic steps correctly, but then they change the correct basic every 2 to 3 years.
I can’t dance because as the lights softly dim and the music begins it’s steady, pulsing beat, I begin to pull my partner close my hand on her shoulder now being caressed by her long soft hair. I begin to be aware of a faint hint of her perfume and her warm breath on my neck. Alas, when I need it to be firm and strong the most and the timing is right, my frame becomes limp and useless!
Tired of cutting myself on the sharp notes in the music.
Hate having to take off my shoes for dance moves that are more than 10 count.
Can’t afford the "Free" dance classes.
Having difficulty with "Gender Dissociative Identity Disorder" watching John teach the woman's part. (Or Janet dancing the man's part.)
I’m getting tired of Paris Hilton asking if I would like to Lambada.
I’m getting burned out on West coast; I think that I’ll wait for John to play a "Bunny Hop", "Hokey Pokey" or the "Chicken Dance".
My learners permit was revoked in Beginner class.
The voices in my head can’t agree on the beat.
I’m cool with the Rhinestones and Glitter, but the Kick Ball Changes look a little feminine.
The dance wax aggravates my asthma.
Tired of my Pro-Am instructor always making me dance the Am part.
My Dance shoes don’t know how to dance.
My partner was arrested for impersonating a dancer.
My partner had to go back to the woman’s prison across the street for bed check.
I can’t find a babysitter for our hamster.
Decided why bother when I learned that the Latin Championships were being held at Taco Bell.
I’m confused why there are no tools in the dance workshops.
Al Gore says that dances more than 180 bpm contribute to global warming.
I’m protesting the fact that the Electric Slide isn’t powered by alternative energy sources. (Or I’m waiting for the Hybrid version of the Electric Slide to come out.)
I’m afraid that I’ll become diabetic if I keep doing the Sugar Push.
My partner dances more like Fred Flintstone than Fred Astaire.
My dance partner doesn’t hold their frame or their liquor well.