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.
It would be embarrassing...if it wasn't so awesome.
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.
And my favorite of the night:
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.
