Bettina got kicked again last night. I may need one-those "nipple-shields" recently made famous by a certain popstar.

We trained with this supposed "dance coach" who's experience in ballroom is highly questionable (if existant at all!).
I don't think I've ever met a man more full of crap!

Asking Shane & I what we bring to the dance that is "Bajan" (Latin is not and will never BE Bajan)!
Makin' us do all kinds of crazy warm-up exercises like patting our heads, and scratching ourselves!
Pulling our rumba to pieces when we REALLY need to focus on our jive!

Telling us we need to connect, we must have a connection, we must connect with each other, there must be a connection between us, he needs to see our connection, blah-blah-blah CONNECT, blah-blah-blah CONNECT....

I dunno...maybe we just need some velcro to help with this frikkin' "connection"! (Schuupes, why can't I ever come up with these retorts when I'm on the spot?)

Plus, he's got bad breath. Maybe that's due to some food debris stuck in that charming "dollar sign" gold cap adorning his right upper incisor. Ugh.