Why I Blame Kevin Bacon

This is going to be random and rambly and the point will be way at the end, well... you should be used to that. I mostly am random and rambly. And now that I say that, I can look at my picture and say that 'yes. yes that person looks random and rambly. And drunk. Very, very drunk.' (Cameras and I do not get along. I think it has to do with the one I accidentally threw over Niagara falls. I was aiming for my brother's head. I was 8.) But without all the random and rambly, the point (Kevin Bacon makes Mr X kill kittens) would not make any sense. Although, I think that I should state right now that I make no promises that any of this will make sense since I am very tired and I hate the Robot.
Right. So, back to Kevin Bacon.
Actually, this starts with my neighbors and the fact that they think I'm some kind of crazy mid-morning drunk. It's not all entirely related to the fact that my ass meets the driveway on a fairly regular basis (damn slippy nature stuff). Or the cookouts we've had over the past several years which inevitably involves my MIL and we should just not go there. Or maybe that Halloween I answered the door with my giant pregnant belly painted like a pumpkin as if it was the most normal thing in the world. This could go on and now that I'm thinking about it, I really don't blame them for thinking that AA needs to like, move in with me.
But I do blame Kevin Bacon because he started it.
I was listening to the radio and Mr X had the 80's station on since he loves 80's music (to which I say Bah! When you can't tell the difference between Huey Lewis and Madonna you can not call yourself an 80's fan!So what if it was 4 years ago! You shall never live it down! Never!! I love the exclamation marks! Ha!). Footloose came on. Footloose! So I started singing along. And dancing. I turned the radio up and got myself all jiggy with it. Girl X was laughing so hard I thought she'd pee her pants. With that encouragement, I really went all out for it. Jumping up and down, kicking my legs, executing a perfect imitation of Kevin Bacon. I spun around still singing and dancing.
And there was one of my neighbors. With Mr X right behind him. He had come over to help move something for Mr X.
I quietly walked over and turned off the radio.
Mr X has wisely not mentioned this incident again.
But this does not entirely explain why it's Kevin Bacon's fault. No. There is more. It's also sort of Mr X's fault. Or at least this is what I tell myself when the neighbors see me and quickly run into their homes.
Mr X can't dance. He thinks he can dance. This makes his attempts even funnier.
Remember when I said I look like I'm having a seizure when I exercise? Mr X should be so lucky when he's dancing.
We were goofing around one weekend. The radio was on, Girl X was completely embarrassed to be related to us. It was a good time. Footloose came on the radio and Mr X started 'dancing'. He was doing some combination of the Robot, the Moonwalk and some odd butt-bumping thing that I can't really explain but it looked painful. So I did what any good wife would do. I started making fun of him. Mocking him. And then I started goofing him. Except doing it the way Kevin Bacon does it in the movie (Seizure anyone?).
This, sadly, made Mr X do the Robot even more emphatically because I think he thought it was good.
No one should ever do the Robot. Every time someone does the Robot, a kitten dies. Footloose makes Mr X do the Robot.
Therefore, Kevin Bacon makes Mr X kill kittens. And my neighbors think I'm an idiot.

I hate you Kevin Bacon.