I have a thing for dancing. I know a lot of people say that...but I really do. Like crazy, jumping and almost falling over, singing at the top of my lungs with my eyes closed, arms akimbo dancing. When I dance, it's like when you secretly dance around alone in your bedroom singing into a hairbrush (I don't own a hairbrush, so I use my toothbrush)...except it's in public.

It would be embarrassing...if it wasn't so awesome. 



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A great beat, a group of people (especially if that group is made up of friends), and a dance floor. That's all I need. Music is the only thing that consistently makes sense in life, and dancing is a way to celebrate that.

On Saturday night, my good, great, wonderful friends Dave and Carly got married, and said dancing occurred. Oh, did it occur.



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And my favorite of the night:



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All of those people you just saw above? I. Love. Them. The only thing missing from the weekend was Toby, who had to stay behind and work, because he is a trooper and he takes care of business. What a man.

Dancing/singing parties with friends are what make up some of my sweetest memories. This past weekend reminded me of how much love and friendship I have, even if a lot of it is at a distance right now. I came back to LA feeling pretty homesick, and it still hasn't faded. I'm pretty sure you'll be reading a blog post about it later this week.

I had such a wonderawesometasticamazeballs weekend. Congratulations, Dave and Carly, I love you both so much. And to my friends: I throw my hands up in the air sometimes, sayin' eeeeey-oh, gotta let go. Love you all.



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