dancy-cal....
There's a few things in life I'm not very good at. Tennis Following recipes Not laughing at my own jokes Telling side-splitting jokes Not repeating the non-side-splitting jokes And then there's conga lines. I've been a witness, or part of a conga line about four times in about four years. So, yes, I pretty much average one conga line a year. And if you ask me, that's four conga lines too many. About three years back when my boss and I were at a lunch function on Melbourne Cup day, we joined a conga line. I think we were leading it actually. Anyway, it was an example of a conga line done well. Because of the festiveness of the day, the 20 ladies who were in the line had enjoyed a few cheeky vinos. Let's face it, they were up for any conga-line activity. Anyway, we somehow led all these people outside the ballroom where we'd had lunch, into the hall, and then back through a different door, down the aisles of the ballroom to the dance floor wh