There's a song on the radio whose lyrics declare: "And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance, I hope you dance." Well, the writer of that song hasn't seen me dance. There seems to be a neural interrupt between my brain and feet; they just won't do what I tell them to. But, have you seen that Six Flags commercial with the old guy dancing up a storm? Now, there's one cool dude. If he would just put out a how-to video, I could learn to maneuver out on the dance floor just like him. Dorothy's always wanted to go dancing and when I told her that once I'm able to dance like him we'd go dancing all the time. She said I'd be dancing alone. I will never understand the female mind.
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