I put my thang down, flip it, and reverse it...

I have but one goal tonight...to teach Paul to dance. I'm not expecting him to moonwalk or even cabbage patch. I just want him to be able to handle a basic groove on the floor at the Navy Ball tomorrow night. He's very reluctant and he's afraid he'll look silly, but it's not really for him. I'm mostly doing this for Trish's sake. All the poor girl wants is a guy who can shake his groove thing a little bit. I have faith he can do it. He's not all white.
I'm acting boss at work again this week. I had to go the scheduler's meeting today (where the big boys go to play), and it always makes me nervous because I never know what they're going to ask and if I'll know the answer. Mr. Futakawame (Futa, for short), the Japanese foreman for our shop, went with just in case they asked any questions about jobs the Japanese are handling. So, the Major asks me a question to which I actually know the answer (!), and all of the sudden, Futa starts in with his broken English, and I kinda felt like a big idiot. I was kinda perturbed at first, but then I thought, "Eh, who cares? I'm outta here in a couple months."
Anyway, I'm gonna shower, pick out some appropriate CDs for dance instruction (I'm thinking Missy Elliott, Basement Jaxx, the Chemical Brothers, early Madonna, OutKast, Electric Six, The Roots, Daft Punk, N*E*R*D*, Peaches, and Felix da Housecat), and head to PQ2. Take care. No worries. God Bless.