Because You Couldn't Wait a Second Longer...

Good news everyone, I'm not pregnant!

Have I ever mentioned my hot dermatologist? He's beautiful. I have to see him every few months because of my super-strong face medicine. They need to check my blood to make sure my potassium levels aren't insane. Plus I like to think that he just wants to see me. I know, I'm dreaming. Whatever.

Yesterday I had my typical appointment. He looked too closely at my skin for my comfort. I know he's a dermatologist, but he makes my heart flutter. I probably need to get my moles checked but I just can't bring myself to let him see me naked. Never had your moles checked? I don't want to discourage you (because you really NEED to do it! Stay healthy!) but it can be a bit invasive. I just don't think I could take him studying every part of my body, closely, with a magnifying mirror with fluorescent lighting. It's just completely unnecessary to have to check my crack. Dinner first, please.

Tangent. Okay, where was I? Yes, typical appointment. He asked if I was on birth control because this medicine is not safe for unborn babies. Something about hermaphrodites. Anyway, I told him I wasn't but probably would have to get on it soon. "Why?" "Well, I haven't had my period in several months and I'm going to the doctor in a couple of weeks. She'll probably make me get on it." "Could you be pregnant?" "Um, no." "How do you know for sure?" "Um...because I'm not having sex??" Cue MOMENT OF AWKWARDNESS. "Oh, okay. That would do it."

We go through this every time I see him. He always wants to know why I'm not on birth control. I think he's finally getting it. He asked if he could just request a pregnancy test because doctors notes are now audited. I said, "Sure, fine, why not. But if it comes back positive..." "What? Immaculate conception?" "Exactly." I still wish it would have come back positive because that would have been quite the story! Was I drugged? Or was it the one time I wore shorts while riding public transportation? You never know on the CTA. Plus my family is fertile myrtle.

Struttin' It

Monday morning I was looking really cute. I was. I'm not going to deny it. Black pants, yellow, long, flowy sweater snugged tightly to my waist with an over-sized blue belt, and heels. I was working it. I was feeling it.

I had an appointment during lunch. As I was on the elevator after my appointment, a threesome of very handsome, young lawyers, decked out in expensive suits, boarded the elevator a few floors down. I smiled and they smiled back. One of them kept checking me out. Seriously, he gave me the up and down. I so knew he thought I was cute. Even as we were headed out the revolving glass door he turned around to look at me again. I have it, what can I say.

Chin held high I entered a cab. The perfect fall wind was blowing my hair blissfully. A few minutes later I was back at my work destination. Scooting across the back seat to pay the cab driver and exit, I looked down and noticed something. My zipper was down. Oh, okay, humility in check. Got it. Staring at my zipper, not me. Dang it!

Human Knot

Last night at rehearsal for The Senate, we played a few warm-up/group-mind games. One of them was the ol' human knot game. You stand in a circle and grab someone's hand with your right hand and another person's hand with your left hand. Then you have to work silently to untangle the knot. I've done this about 1,000 times - and that was at camp. No telling how many more times I've done this with improv groups. I'm 32 and still playing the human knot game. I love it.

At one point I found that it was my turn to cross over a sea of clasped hands. People bent down so you could climb over their arms and reach the other side. The problem is that your butt usually ends up in someone's face. I silently regretted not wearing a belt. As I crawled over the arms and hands, a few came precariously close to...you know...we'll call it "ground zero." My only thought was, "why oh why of all days did I have to start my period today."

Harvest Scent

Saturday I went with Alyson and JC to Ulta. It was their friends and family sale. 20 % off of everything you'd ever want when it comes to hair product, perfume, appliances, make up, nail polish, etc. We were in heaven! I'm wandering around the store with my big green puffy coat slung over my purse (yes, it was frigid and windy - slight tears rolling down my cheeks as I write this. Goodbye summer!) holding my shampoo and conditioner. I see rows of Yankee candles and have to go over there to smell them!

I'm a sucker for fall and Christmas smelling candles. Well, fall and Christmas smelling anything: Fireplaces, pumpkin chai tea, gingerbread, apple cider, evergreen trees...I'm practically drooling for the holidays (she says as she slings a handful of M&M's in her mouth thanks to a co-worker. How dare she bring in Halloween candy!). Stay on target, Katy! So I see the "harvest" candle in front of me. I go to pick up the candle and remove the lid so I can breathe deeply the scent of fall harvest. The lid won't pop off. So I lift it up towards me to get a better grip and next thing I know...SHATTERED! Fall Harvest shattered all over the floor of the Ulta! Horror! I wanted to run away, but instead I just let out a mournful and pitiful, "Shhiiiiiiuuuuuuuuuuut." And right then you think, "I knew better than to do that!" I actually had a flash of the candle dropping just before I picked it up. Do I have a sixth sense or was this a case of a self-fulfilled prophesy?

I put on my big girl pants and told a nice young woman what I had done. We took the death march over to the scene of the crime. She with her broom, me with my red face. I asked to pay for it and she said not to worry about it because it happens all the time. Thank God! The candle was $22. Eek!

Just another day in the life of being me. Clumsy, cookie-craving me.

The List

I wonder what it would be like to be a guy that makes five 30-something year-old women giggle with delight after an elevator door opens to reveal you in all your handsome glory.

Last night I was feeling tired and looking rough. My unwashed hair was on top of my head in a bun and my greasy bangs with sprouts of grey were held back by a headband. My eyes were puffy from too much salt and I could barely utter a "hey" when in my mind I was saying "Hello gorgeous!" Really, he was THAT good looking. We held our cackles until we left the building and it turns out we were all thinking the same thing - "Why didn't I pretend to forget something so I could ride the elevator with him!" Really, I need to be more prepared when it comes to my game. Here's my new regimen for supreme readiness:

1. Shower - it will always elevate the odds.

2. Smile - when in doubt, smile. It's much better than a cranky stare.

3. Make haste! - Girl, have your excuses ready! Drop everything when you see an opportunity.

4. Awareness - When you're riding the bus and you notice five cute guys boarding, remove the headphones and close the book. Makes you more approachable. Then apply points 1 - 3.

5. Lipstick - I'm not sure why other than my mother always tells me to put it on.

Please feel free to share your tips. All of us single people in the blogosphere are appreciative.

Tina Fey Fey

Last night while waiting for my prescription to be filled at Walgreens, I perused the magazine aisle. "Prescription?" you ask. Don't worry, I'm not sick. It's just the teenage acne I will deal with THE REST OF MY LIFE! Saw "hot doctor" yesterday. It's always lovely when "hot doctor" has to peer really closely at your acne-skin. He agreed to a refill and warned me incessantly that I CANNOT get pregnant on this pill or it's bad news bears. I promised that even though I'm not on birth control, I won't get pregnant. "Well, what are you using as a contraceptive?" "Um...how about not having sex?" And there I sealed the deal that he thinks I'm a lesbian. I'm so tempted to call him and say, "Um, hi Doctor. I just wanted to clarify something with you real quick...."

But that's neither here nor there. What was I saying? Oh yes, I saw Tina Fey on the cover of Marie Claire and thought to myself, "I like Tina Fey. She's so freakin' talented, witty, and smart. I think I'd like to read this article. Oh wait! AND it's an interview by Amy Poehler. This should be good." You know what? I was SO right! I laughed out loud in Walgreens. The way they communicate and play off of each other reminds me of me and Beckles. So please read the article found here. Hilaire. You may have to actually pick up a copy of the magazine to read the whole thing, but it's worth it. TRUST ME!

Sunny Delight

Jeff and Alyse's wedding in Austin was more fun than I could have ever imagined. (more pictures to be posted later) It was a perfect night for an outdoor wedding and an outdoor reception. I made it my goal to spend as much time outdoors as possible. If I was in a car, the sunroof was open. If I was eating at Chick-fil-a, I was eating outdoors. If I took a shower, I took it indoors, but made sure I looked out the window at the blue sky. I was obsessed.

After an early morning family shower for Alyse, Jessie and I headed to the pool at my parent's hotel. We still had on our dresses but hoped to catch a few passing rays while we had the time. Twenty minutes later I felt like I had absorbed a little sun and decided to go inside so I wouldn't get burned. There was no color yet, so I thought I was playing it safe. Five minutes later I looked in the elevator mirror to see if there was any color. Nothing. Ten minutes later I look in the bathroom mirror. FIRE ENGINE RED! Seriously, my chest was blazing. I should have known better and worn sunscreen on my pastey winter skin.

I looked dashing in my black and white dress accessorized with a red chest. Seriously, it was just the chest. Not the arms, neck or face. I tried to cover it up with my long locks, but the redness kept peeking through.

Riddle me this: why do strangers find it perfectly okay to point out to you that you're scorching red? I go to the bar to get a glass of wine. "Hi there, I'd like a glass of pinot noir please." "(GASP) YOU'RE SOOOOO BURNED!" "Yes, I am, thank you for letting me know. I never would have noticed or FELT MY SKIN STINGING LIKE CRAZY!" Really, I couldn't go five feet without a comment. Two days later and the skin is still blazing. So here I go again...

Lesson learned: Wear sunscreen at all times...and turtlenecks.

On a Personal Note

I just went to the bathroom and realized I had my underwear on backwards...and I'm wearing a thong. This explains so much.

While You Were Watching American Idol

Timely Combination:

8:47:29 p.m. - Stretching hamstrings on the floor while doing the middle splits with back against the couch all the while pointing out to my roommates how flexible I am, even at my age.

8:47:41 p.m. - Couch moving and scraping against the wood floor at the same time creating a timely "noise."

8:47:43 p.m. - Lots of pointing and laughing in my direction.

8:47:47 p.m. - Me swearing up and down THAT WASN'T ME!!!!!

IT WASN'T ME!

Place My Hands Where?

Riddle me this: How on earth does one turn the scene I picked for my On Camera class into a seduction scene? Little innocent Kate Winslet telling little innocent Johnny Depp that she wants to keep pretending they're a family until she dies doesn't exactly seem sexy to me. Somehow teacher Doug thought so.

Thinking I'd have to gear up and get some fat tears ready for a dramatic part, I selected Fernando as my scene partner. He's a good friend. We've never done a scene together in class. It will be fun. Next thing I know Doug is telling me to play a seductress. Katy is to seductress as Ben and Jerry's is to health food. Then he tell us in front of the class to "pretend you're naked...." Uno momento. I'm sorry Doug, could you repeat that? I thought I heard you say, "pretend you're naked." Oh he said that alright, AND SO. MUCH. MORE. He was getting all Nora Roberts on us. I cannot repeat the words whispered to me in the corner that night.

Never would Fernando and I have guessed that in Monday's On Camera class our relationship would become so. much. more...in front of seven other people...and then have to watch it played back to us on video. Magic. I will never forget this as long as I live.

Why is it that I have to take acting classes to get a little action around here? It's a tough job.

Good news, we get to do it again next week. Then he's putting it on DVD for us. DO NOT count on me posting it...EVER! I'll show a private screening at my place and all proceeds will go to charity.

Why Am I Not Married?

This morning started out rough for me. At 6:00 a.m. I was at the gym working out with Shelby. I was crossing the room doing three-pulse lunges, that only Satan could have thought up, when Shelby says, "You have little something on your chin." I thought to myself that it was probably just a bit of grime I picked up from the gym floor while doing push-ups. I casually wiped my chin on my shirt. Then she says, "Well, now it's moved to the side of your face." Wow this is a stubborn little piece of dirt. I turn my head to take a peek in the mirrored wall and notice a huge lugie like thing spread across my jaw line. GASP! I immediately threw down my 15 pound dumbells to wipe my face with my shirt. Shelby says, "I didn't know if I should tell you now because you were holding weights." YES SHELBY! THE ANSWER IS ALWAYS YES!

Mortified.

I really don't know how it got there. I'm thinking it had to have been during my painful struggle doing lower back exercises. Cringing.

Wax On, Wax Off

Yesterday I got my eyebrows waxed. Again, little red spots are left as traces of evidence. But I don't look like I was beat up this time. When I was laying on the table I asked one of my "inane" questions: "Have you ever dropped a glob of wax in someone's hair? I mean, how would you get it out?" She hadn't and I didn't want to be the first.

Walking back to work I began laughing to myself as I remembered a funny story one of my extended relatives told me about herself and a bad waxing situation. She decided to try a do-it-yourself wax..for her nether-regions...never a good idea. She put the wax on her skin...AND IT WOULDN'T COME OFF! She even called my mom for moral support and any wax-removal ideas. She was afraid she would rip off her skin so she had a brilliant idea of getting into a bathtub of warm water to melt the wax so she could wipe it off. The wax did come off, but she didn't immediately realize that she was laying in what had become a tub of wax. Everything was sticky. Her towel stuck to her. The door knobs, the phone, the floor, the tub...all were sticky. Bless her heart. If this isn't a recommendation for professional waxing, I don't know what is.

Bar Fight

I almost got in a bar fight Saturday night. I'm not even kidding. Kelly and I met Alyson at Mad River for her sister's going away party. The place was so crowded. We weren't even there 20 minutes when I had had enough of being bumped into and pushed so people could move past you. I'm sure having a "honky tonk badonkadonk" didn't help. Then feelings of claustrophobia began settling in. I needed to leave the place ASAP.

I squeezed my way through the crowd and almost reached the door when three little 22 year-old girls wearing bleached hair and their skinny jeans shove right into me so they can get through the crowd. Oh no you didn't! I raise my arms and gave them my best jazz hands with a "WHAT WAS THAT?" face. The last girl stopped in her tracks and looks at me with a "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" face. THAT'S IT! It was all I could do to not start something right there. All I said yelling over the crowd was, "Oh you'll see when you've been here longer than five seconds AND ARE ABOUT 10 YEARS OLDER!" Oh snap. I showed her! I didn't come off sounding old at all.

Goodbye Mad River. I will never step foot in your doors again. I'm "of age" to drink and therefore too old to enter your establishment.

Under My Umbrella...Ella...Ella

Walking around a corner today I accidentally hit a man in the chest with my umbrella. I'm pretty sure he's my future husband.

On Camera Class

Last night was my first On Camera class at The Acting Studio. It was a small class of six people and our teacher was fun, knowledgeable and a little wacky (he said so himself). He began by telling us some rules of the business: be on time, always call your agent back ASAP (I'm going to get me one of those), get colored headshots (check!) and don't take yourself too seriously (Oh, okay). As any good student would do, I took furious notes, nodded my head and smiled at the teacher. All was going well until about one hour into the class.

He had each one of us stand in front of the video camera, one at a time, and interviewed us for a few minutes. We had to stare into the camera while he talked to us from afar. Not only is it awkward to talk to a camera and not a person, but the entire class was staring at your face in television. My horror ended as soon as it began. I immediately felt comfortable when I began talking. I sat down. No harm done. Easy as pie. I allowed a second for my armpits and upperlip to dry off. Next thing I know our teacher rewinds the video and has us WATCH OURSELVES! That's like taking a steak knife and stabbing me in the eye and then pouring alcohol in it. Not only do we have to WATCH OURSELVES! but everyone has a piece of paper where they judge you and write down things about you and scrutinize every little bit of who you are as a person and characters you might represent. Here are some of the questions:

1. Name that would suit this person?
2. Age?
3. Gay/Straight?
4. Married/Single/Divorced
5. What magazines do they read?
6. What is their occupation?
7. How much do they make?
8. Education?
9. What roles would suit this person? (girl next door, jock, etc.)
10. What actors are they similar to?
11. Give a line of dialogue that this person's character might say.

For a perfectionist, being judged is just about the worst thing that can happen.

I lived folks. I am here yet another day.

Some celebs I resemble according to my classmates: Kristin Davis (Charlotte from Sex and the City),




























Don't I look exactly like her?





















Sandra Bullock (my teacher asked the person who made this suggestion, "where?" Thanks teach.) and Juliette Lewis (I'm not a punk rocker but I still think she's a great actress).


























































She's incredibly versatile and I need to tap into that side of me. I should also start wearing canary yellow unitards.


One person wrote for a line of dialogue for me: "I hope I get this right." Have they been talking to my therapist?

Epidermis

Winter can be a tough time for the skin. What was once dewy, greasy and could borderline cook french fries thanks to the summer months, is now scaley, dry and a little on the itchy side. If I don't carry around moisturizer with me constantly, my face shrivels up and cracks. It's all very attractive.

Today I went and had my eyebrows waxed during an early lunch break. It was time to tame the beast sitting just above my eyelids. My aesthetician took the normal precautions: vaseline and baby powder. After the first RIP I felt an unusual tingling/burning sensation. I do have sensitive skin so the redness/puffiness wouldn't be too alarming, so what's alarming are the two super-red strips on my forehead. One is just below my left eyebrow. The other is just a smidge to the right of my right eyebrow. This my friends is due to dry skin. Now I look like I've been in a bar fight. Well, someone with gorgeous eyebrows who has been in a bar fight. There is a difference.

Curb Appeal

Today I found my co-worker, Donna, pulling me up from off the cement sidewalk. You see, I had just misplaced my wedge heel on a curb. Wedge heels, way-to-long pants, cement curbs, traffic, three good looking gentlemen across the street and me are a deadly combination. I felt myself falling backwards and just decided to go with it. I hear that it's better to fall than try to save yourself from falling - that's when you get injuries. I'm at that tender age where injuries are becoming more numerous; for example, the elevator breaks and you have to walk down 15 flights of stairs which makes your calves so sore that every little movement makes you vocalize your pain. My poor roommates - except they too have sore calves. Our vocalized pain together is harmonic.

So I just went with it. I fell slowly and thought to myself, "I'm falling, so I think I'll just do it with flare." My hands were full of bags so I cushioned the blow by landing on my butt - a cushion like none other. I could fall from 15 stories and still be okay as long as I land on my derierre. Of course I had to stand up dramatically and smile while laughing to let others know I was okay...and that I know I'm a dork who loses balance quite frequently in public. I hate it when people energetically yell "OH! ARE YOU OKAY?!" and then suck in their breath through their teeth and make that SHHHHHHEEE noise. I mean, it's not like I hit my head on something hard (like I did last week when getting into Christine's car....and the next day while getting into Gina's car. What is my problem?). Let's just all ignore the fact that I almost fell into traffic. Hello! Happens daily!

Periods. They Don't Just End Sentences

Wednesday night was one of those perfect girls nights. Kelly picked up me and Alyson from work and we began our plans of dinner and a Target run. What girl doesn't need a black velour leisure suit to help her through the frigid Chicago winter?

Dinner was met with tears as we all talked about what's going on in our lives. We had to cheer each other up somehow, so the topic turned to when we started our first periods. The moral of the story is that if we could make it through our first periods in our pre-teen days, then surely we'll make it through what's going on in our lives now.

I detested any talk about periods when I was in those fragile stages of 10 and 11 years old. It had to do with the changing of my body and would eventually lead to "the talk." My mom tried to talk to me about it several times but I always cut her off with a "I KNOW ALREADY MOM!" It's true, I did know. I just picked up on things at school: discussions, stories, innuendos. I was a pretty perceptive child. I spent most of my time observing and listening to others.

I remember we had a special talk at school for girls only. The teachers gathered us into the auditorium and proceeded to tell us about the menstrual cycle and changes we could be expecting in the near future. You could order this neat little box filled with pads, pamphlets and a resourceful book on life changes. They must have sent a letter home to the parents because my mom ordered on for me and one for my sister. I remember getting the brown box filled with the goodies and being utterly horrified. Meanwhile my sister was giddy with delight and couldn't wait to read more about "life changes" out loud from the book. My sister was the kind of girl who couldn't wait to play dress up and wear my mothers heals and jewelry. I was more inclined to throw the football around and ask the boys at school to punch me in the stomach to show them I was tough. I wasn't an extreme tomboy. Most wouldn't have classified me as one by looking at me. My appearance didn't give me away, except for that unfortunate hair cut that left me with a mullet in fourth grade. Tragic and a story for another time.

First periods are startling, overwhelming, exciting and horrifying all at once. How are they exciting? I don't know. I just know that most mom's have an innate knowledge that tells them they need to act excited when their daughters tell them they started their period. It's a "My girl is so grown up!" "You're a woman!" But we all know now what our mothers were really thinking: "And here innocence ends and high-maintenance begins." Welcome to a life of water-retention, insatiable chocolate cravings, hot pads and maxi pads, midol and the fear of leakage. Goodbye white pants during certain times of the month. Hello mood swings.

If dealing with being a teenager wasn't hard enough, girls had to deal with their periods. I remember sixth grade being an especially rough time for girls who were new to menstrual cycles. Not everyone had started yet but it was obvious if you had. If a girl made the march to the bathroom carrying her purse, there were hushed whispers or unspoken thoughts of "she must be a slut." And heaven forbid that a guy got ahold of your purse and looked through it! What if he found a pad?!

Praise God for the day that I first learned how to use a tampon. It's been nothing but freedom ever since. Try going to a summer camp for 4 weeks during the summer and having to take swim class the first day of your period. How many excuses can one make up? You quickly learn to embrace the tampon. Some girls' mothers show them how to use it. Others just follow the instructions in the box and try to figure out the pictures. Most of our first thoughts were, "This can't be right. I'm supposed to stick this where?"

If only I knew back then that one day I would be laughing over dinner with my friends talking openly about my period, it wouldn't have seemed so daunting. I can't wait for the day when I can order a fun package for my daughter and explain the joys of womanhood. She'll probably scream back at me "I KNOW ALREADY MOM!" And I'll just think to myself, "That's my girl."

A Letter to Office Max

Dear Office Max,

You have really sturdy and strong bright red boxes with handles cut out and it makes it really easy to carry things. I know you ship us paper in them but I think they make transporting materials from meetings quick and easy!

I just have one complaint. Visualize with me for a second if you will. It's a beautiful day: cool, sunny, clear and bright. It's a perfect day for football, except I'm at work. I have on my favorite brown blazer jacket (but much more awesome than a blazer. blazer may be giving you a bad mental image. it's cute is what i'm saying.) from Anthropolgie. I wear it with my favorite off-white work pants that are too big but oh so comfortable. I'm looking sharp and ready to persuade people to raise thousands of dollars for a good cause. I get to my meeting location except they have me walking all over creation (it's a University Hospital). I finally reach my destination, give a presentation and reach home just in time to go to the bathroom. I don't want to go to the bathroom in a hospital, you know, sick people. So when I do it's the first time I notice the front of my pants. It looked like I had spilled red powder all over the front of my pants. WHAT IS THIS?!!! Oh my goodness, it's the red box! It rubbed off it's ink all over the front of my favorite off-white work pants! Did the people at the meeting recognize it? Is that why that cute guy at the back of the room was smiling at me? No one said anything! And then there was that girl when I was filling my car up with gas. She gave me a look like, "been one of those days..." I thought she meant her, NOT ME! And my doorman! He probably thought I started my period. It wasn't period! I wanted to shout IT'S THE BRIGHT RED BOX FROM OFFICE MAX!

Thankfully I have my self-esteem and a small shred of dignity left. I quickly changed clothes because I had a check presentation that involved a photo shoot for the newspaper! See what I mean? Need I say more?

Sincerely,

Katy

Johnny Castle

This weekend was one adventure after another. And since I love adventure it made for a fun and entertaining weekend.

First of all, I went to the Cubs vs. Padres game on saturday with my friend, Helen. She knows some high and mighty people and was given tickets two rows behind the visitor dugout. The best part of the game was the bench clearing fight that took place between Derek Lee and the Giant. I swear he must have been about seven feet tall. My dad says he's from Dallas. That explains his good looks.

Secondly I had a Girls Night Out with Kelly and Kristen on saturday. We had a little pre-party at Kelly's. This involved all of us drinking Vodka and Sprite while I laid on Kelly's bed and Kelly did Kristen's hair and makeup. It was almost like we were getting ready for prom. We went to Nacional 27 for margaritas and tapas. It was delish. By the time we were finished with dinner at 11:00 pm (usually I'm done with dinner by 6:00 pm) the Latin dancing started and men were prowling around looking for a dance partner. I had to go watch the dancing. You know how much I love all things dancing.

Next thing I know a man grabbed my hand and took me out on the dance floor. I was doing my best to imitate all of Emmitt Smith's dance moves. My hips were swaying and my frame was unbreakable. I couldn't stop laughing at myself. It was fabulous. He asked for another dance and I declined. Then as soon as I stepped off the dance floor another man grabbed me. You would think that this is a woman's paradise. It was until man #2. Seriously, how long do these songs have to play? I swear they lasted about 20 minutes each. It's all fun until you're thrust against some sweaty 50 year old man and dancing cheek to cheek. He left no room for the Holy Spirit. Could he not feel the bacteria that must have been building between our two faces? I just kept thinking that I couldn't wait to go wash my face. This was stranger sweat. "Let's just rock back and forth and rest." ummmmkay. He was holding me so tight that I could hardly breathe. The "rest" turned into a little dirty dancing with a little dirty old man. He kept saying, "I like you." " You're my favorite person to dance with." "Come dance with me again." I'm sure he's never said that to another woman. "Don't you believe me?" Yeah, okay, sure. But the first dance we danced was fun. There were all these twists and turns. I'm sure there were algorithms involved in there somewhere to create those moves. Finally I broke away and us ladies left the dance floor.

It was awesome.