Have you ever wondered what happens when the rhythm actually gets you? That would be my fantasy reality. Unfortunately for me, digital cameras have captured many moments of me in my captive state.

After a night of ballyhoo with my lady friends, "Where's the camera?" is most certainly the first thought on the brain. This is to ensure I dispose of all evidence of me (painstakingly use this word) dancing.

Life wasn't always like this though. Not so many moon ago, I was a dancer. I've always loved dancing and with choreography, I'm lovely. However, when I go rogue from my training (i.e. freestyling + champagne) its not a pretty sight. My moves of choice usually involve arms spiraling in the air, my hair shaking all around and oh let's not forget how I loooove to make it a sing along. The combo of the three is quite something - and if I may, the fact I can complete without injury, is almost a miracle. Recently I was nicknamed as 'dancy pants maduzia.' In honor of my new found title, here are some classics.....