Dancing Through Life

Typically, when I make my way to the dance floor, you can rest assured that I've had enough to drink. I hate to dance. Actually, I don't mind dancing, it's just that I don't have any talent when it comes to busting a move, so I sit and watch.
Last night, I went out with my sisters and a few friends. None of us had to work today, so why not? After 1.25 beers, we decided to switch bars. I knew that my sister wanted to go to the other bar to dance, and I wasn't too excited about it. After all, I wasn't drunk enough to dance, and I didn't want to be in a loud bar where you can't talk. I went anyway.
After being there for about 2 minutes, I decided to dance. I'm not really sure why. I had an amazing time though. Shannon and I made up some killer dance routines. Remind you to show them to you the next time you see me. No one else was on the dance floor but us, so we had room to rip it up.
Later in the night, when I actually was to the point that I didn't care anymore, Shannon tried to keep me on the dance floor by telling me that I actually am a good dancer. I laughed at her. I told her I knew what she wanted, and if she wanted me to continue dancing, I needed another beer.