Direct Orders

Aaaahem. 

Here's what I need you to do. 

You are under direct orders to rock the frick out. 

Rock out like you have cool socks on.

Like you've got a full tank of gas and you have service in Lake Powell.

Rock out like you just built theee smoothest fort.

Rock out like you just laughed a six pack.

Or like you're at Del Taco and oh my gosh it's 3:00 A.M.

And like you just woke up on the set of Baby Mama.

Rock out like you are proud of that blonde moment.

Like 13 people are messaging you on Facebook.

Like it's Monday night and Gossip Girl is on.

Rock out like the people do when I walk in the room.

Rock out like you just dumped your boyfriend who cheated.

And like you got the one you want and like the one you got rocked out cause they got you.

Rock out like you're funemployed and the consequence hasn't hit you yet.

Or like you just got a date with Ashton Kutcher.

Like Michael Jackson is only hiding.

And like you just graduated from mother freakin high school.

Rock out like you're in a limo and the techno tunes are BUMPIN.

Like you just downloaded a FREE app.

Or like someone who is really good at rocking out is rocking out with you.

Like you're freakin loaded.

Or like when you come into service range and texts in the double digits are blowin up your phone.

Rock out like that annoying chick moved off to college.

Like you just woke up and the clock already struck 10:00.

And like you still have cool socks on.

Or like google looks really cool today.

Rock out like you're dreaming.

Or rock out like it was just a dream.