Did Someone Say Outdoor Dance Party?

It was so nice of some nice ladies to throw a Sunday b'day brunchie-lunchie in honor of my dear friend Shelley, and even nicer to invite the Notorious SJG, unaware that when the word dance was floated as a possible activity, I would take it to a whole new level of "Who the @#$% invited Her?"

A bit blurry, but you get the picture. I'm literally airborne. 

Clearly, these elegant gals didn't understand what they were getting into when they included me in this She-Shed Shindig (explanation available upon request) high in the hills overlooking more hills.

Other than Shelley, the party-givers and goers didn't know me from Eve. Sometimes semi-anonymity is a good thing. Add a DJ to the mix and I tend to shake, shake, shake like I don't give a sh*t.

Despite the heat stroke potential and the dripping sweat, I really let loose when the DJ cranked "Love Shack." I couldn't help myself. 

But I do believe it was this move that got me booted from the festivities. Live and learn. Or learn bupkis and keep the booty twerking like it's your last day on Earth. To twerk or not to twerk? These are the tough choices the SJG faces whenever somebody says Dance Party -- outdoor or otherwise. I just listen to my tush and see where it takes me.