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July 29, 2010
There he is, in his blue Superman boxers that read "I'll save you" on the butt and--ahem--sexily swinging his hips to a song that was never meant to be sexy. He is also not in rhythm to the song. A drunk man could dance to it with more skill. Regardless, his grin is infections, and when he throws back his head to laugh, I join in.

"Dance with me!" he demands.

"Can't. I'm writing."

"About what?"

"Um... This weird dude I saw today. He really sucked at dancing."

"Maybe I could teach him,"

"Yeah... That'd be... great."