everybody dance now

Some time ago, Party Jen DVRed a comedian on HBO that she said I would love, and she played it for me last week. I was a tiny bit skeptical, since my mom usually tells something is "SO FUNNY" right before she recites a Jay Leno monologue. But damn, Party Jen's comic instincts were right on this time; I DID love this woman. Her name is Megan Mooney and she's hys-freakin-terical. Watch a clip of her here. I'm not sure it fully does her justice because I haven't watched any other clips, but it's a start.

Anyway, one of the many reasons that I loved Megan was that at one point during her show, her suggestion for solving a dispute was "Let's dance this bitch out." I've long been a supporter of the dance off as a more peaceful alternative when attempting to solve international economic disputes. Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake once had a dead-serious dance off at a club following their break-up; oh dear God, I practically wanted to eat the issue of Us magazine that described that train wreck. I'm sorry, but if you're both on board with battling it out under a disco ball, then breaking up is the worst decision EVER. You are obligated to populate the world with children who will dance off to decide who gets shotgun or who gets the bigger slice of pizza or who gets to be the executor of your will.

So this is the new plan: I'm taking the mildly annoying or eyeball-searingly maddening events of my recent past and figuring out how to address them using the power of song.

1) Supergirl can't stop talking as I'm trying to write an email, and because I'm not answering her immediately she's standing over my shoulder to see what's keeping me from giving her my full attention. Solution: Dance-off. Location: On top of her desk. Song of choice: Whip It by Devo.

2) Steve thinks it's lame that my favorite dessert is the chocolate lasagna at the Olive Garden. He's right, but lay off, hipster. Solution: Dance-off. Location: Olive Garden parking lot. Song of choice: Mama Said Knock You Out by LL Cool J.

3) Mark hangs up with me by saying "smell ya later." I immediately call him back to ask what the hell was up with that. He informs me that he single-handedly plans to bring that saying back into circulation. My attempts to reason with him ("It wasn't even funny in second grade!") are fruitless. Solution: Dance-off. Location: Right next to the drumming guy outside Fenway after a game. Song of choice: You Spin Me Round (Like a Record) by Dead or Alive.

So today, instead of having it out with someone who pisses you off, you go get yourself some bootcut black pants, a pair of Steve Maddens and a glittery tank top, and settle that shit old school.