Bloodwork, Taxes, & a 1 Minute Dance Party with Pitbull & T-Pain. Ooh Baby Baby. LaLaLaLaLaLaLa

Have switched gears from wedding planning mode to tax season mode recently, and am finding that I need a new 1 minute daily dance party song to make it through the next 2 weeks.

But instead, I started off the day by getting 4 vials of blood sucked out of me for the old annual and pre-wedding physicals. Last night, it bummed me out to realize that the 8 hour fasting period likely meant I should also stop drinking wine. The most exciting part of the whole experience was the magazine selection at Quest today. I arrived at 11 am and hadn't eaten since 2 AM. What was next to me on the table?
Have a look:

Thanks Quest!
But on the bright side, I'm hoping that having less blood might give me a quick free buzz when I have my dance party moment today.

While I am tempted to make the Little Lion Man or that other Mumford & Sons Song (the cave? ) my daily dance party song, I don't quite feel like square dancing today. And I'm not drunk in a bar, singalonging.

So I think I'm going with the beat that I've been coming home with in my head for awhile now.
There's something about it that makes me nostalgic for a dance circle in 1995 Cancun with Mr. Vain pumping. 
I knew it as the Ooh baby Baby Song.
But it's actually called Hey Baby Drop It To the Floor, by Pitbull featuring TPain. Of course.

Holiday Shopping with A-Rod

Dear A-Rod,

You may or may not have noticed us. But we spent a lovely bit of the afternoon window shopping together on Madison Ave this past December.

 As former NYers, we respect the privacy of others, carrying about their daily business, and couldn't bring ourselves to stop you, create a minor scene, and make total asses of ourselves.   *(See Historical Note Below)
And we didn't mean to stalk you. Honestly. That's such an ugly word.  It was totally accidental... you were much more pulled together-dapper- handsome, and Tall, in person than we had expected, and we just followed blindly. In some strange estrogen haze.

It all started when we almost hit you with the door as we walked out of the J Crew bridal salon. You surprisingly didn't flinch as JenniB squealed "a-rod A-Rod A-ROD"  in increasing volume and pitch as I tried to muzzle her with my hand and figure out what the hell she was saying.

We really were  going to walk in the same direction as you (trying to find an open bar).
But not for 15 blocks, watching you text, fumbling for our cameraphones, trying to casually snap ourselves in a shot, hoping you'd turn around and offer to do an impromptu photo shoot and then take us to lunch.

 


So, since we didn't officially "meet" that day, we wanted to share our fond memories of our special afternoon together . And impromptu photo shoot.

Next time, please feel free to stroll into the Cafe Carlyle and join us for a drink .
We're quite entertaining.

Fondly,
The Chicks who were not-so-casually giggling behind you for a few blocks on Madison in the 70's, one December afternoon.



PS - if we run into you again, in San Diego or Singapore, or Hong Kong, be politely forewarned, your NYC bubble doesn't exist there, and we expect an impromptu photo shoot. Or else you're a dick.


*Historical Note- Favorite JenniB Celebrity-Type-Person Verbal Diarrhea Introduction - to DJ Jonathan Peters, circa 1998, early AM, Sunday- as he is obviously trying to get back to DJ booth - "Jonathan!! I'm your Biggest Fan! You have to come meet my friend, Rita too!"
Needless to say, I still have not met JP.  
Perhaps it's best that our A-Rod encounter remained silent.