I'm pretty sure that I sustained a booty-dancing injury on Friday night. Maybe one day I will learn that I can't do my high school dance moves as a twenty-six-year-old. Sometimes the rhythm gets me and I think I'm invincible, but then I'm stuck because I tried to take it low and couldn't exactly get up. The heating pad and bottle of Advil have been my close companions this weekend. Next time I'll stick to the White Girl Step-Touch (you all know what I'm talking about).