Next Time; Disco Ball!

If our neighbors are inclined toward voyeurism, they'd have been treated to quite the show tonight.

LM found me earlier this evening and asked if I might like to have a dance party with him in the basement. Um, did somebody just say "dance"? I'm so there.

He disappeared into the bathroom for a while, and came out with spiked hair so intensely gelled, I could pop a balloon on it. Perfection!

We traipsed down the stairs and I turned on the radio full blast. Truly, the next half hour that ensued will go down as one of the all-time best dance parties I've ever attended. Someday when this kid starts dating, he's going to make for a really good time. No girl is going to feel self-conscious about her dance floor prowess when beside the most uncoordinated, non-judgmental and uninhibited fellow alive. Does LM let a complete and utter lack of rhythm slow him down-- even for a second? Not on your life. And so, heck, I didn't either. No move was off-limits, no misstep acknowledged, no failed attempt laughed at. Full-throttle; no-holds-barred. (Well, except when he stopped for a potato chip break every now and then.)

Talk about fun.

And when he invited me to play a game of dance ping-pong I knew I was about to try something crazy. And, turns out, I'm still pretty awesome at table tennis even while oppa'ing gangnam style.

But it wasn't until LM began handing me money on the dance floor that I realized just how unique this experience was. 'Cause, um, that's never happened to me before. (At least he didn't try to tuck it into my waistband.) Of course, I returned the $1.25 I earned while dancing to "Price Tag"-- 'cause we all know it's not about the money, money, money.

Oh man, I can't wait until LM asks me to dance again. And if you're willing to leave your ego at the door, you are welcome to join us any time.