Swing your pardner
Last night I went to a barn dance - and not just any barn dance but the 3rd Annual Open End Barn Dance Apocalypse! I sashayed. I dosi-doed. I have no idea how to spell either of those things, but they were fun. And unlike high school gym class, where my insane square dancing partner would fling me around the square to the detriment of my wrists and general feelings of security, I was treated with utmost gentleness by everyone with whom I danced. That being said, there was this one guy who smelled pretty bad and whose idea of the dosi-do was to do that Russian kicking dance in a circle. But a small price to pay for one’s wrists.
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