2004-09-26 - 12:17 p.m.

you know you're at a stage-managed event when you are asked to learn some choreography. miss caprino and i were minding our own business, watching 'footloose' projected onto a bedsheet on a rooftop in bushwick, when the hostess practically begged us to work with her choreographer. i thought it would be fun and i goaded miss c into joining me. we were told that rehearsal would be downstairs at 10p sharp.

the concept was that, like in a movie, in the middle of a party some people would randomly break into choreography. we were told to listen for a certain song ('jump' by the pointer sisters) and watch for a choreographed fight to take place, a la 'beat it'. then a tiny south african woman taught us several measures of paula-abdul-style moves. i've no special skills as a dancer, most of my dancefloor moves make me look like an aging heroin-addled stripper, but these aerobics class maneuvers were easy enough to pull off. someone should have reminded me before i went into rehearsal that aerobics classes cause a homocidal rage in me. i hate being told what to do. miss c and i cut out at our earliest opportunity and got back to the roof in time for the climatic courtroom sequence.

the party was super fun. k did an excellent job decorating the roof in a way that recalled the prom sequence in the movie. there were slips of paper for DJ requests and many people were challenging one another to 'six degrees of kevin bacon'. skinny b was DJing and i had a bit of a chat with him. unfortunately, he mostly wanted to complain about how brooklyn wasn't as cool as london. it probably isn't, but i love brooklyn and was not in the mood for his negativity. i knew the keg was running out and handed him a beer from my stash of tecates. he almost refused it in a fit of snobbishness and i turned on my heel to distribute my beverages to cuter, more grateful boys.

the DJs were playing only the very cheesiest, most booty-shakin hot 97 music, which kicked ass. i haven't heard 'the humpty dance' back to back with 'bust a move' since college. our appointed moment finally came and we tried to clear a spot on the dance floor, but i really didn't have space to do my part of the choreography. miss c turned it out, though, and most people seemed impressed. it kinda forced the dancefloor into a bit of a premature climax, and then skinny b killed the dancefloor with 'sex dwarf' by the sparks.

no matter, though, i quickly realised i was exhausted from almost 4 hours of dancing and was never going to finish the remaining tecates in my shopping bag. i donated them to the hostess and climbed in miss c's taxi. we stopped on the way home for the best fried chicken in brooklyn and i fell into bed around 3a tired and happy.