Despite my lithe frame and Euro connections, I'm the last person to look to for dance recs. That said, somehow, I can imagine Tuna boy lost in a deep X cloud swirling around the video secs/slaves at some Soho movengroove to the sounds of !!!'s Myth Takes. See, I can't even introduce the fucking music, but I'm moving through the kitchen with the boys' frozen pizza on kitty feet and an Astaire twirl. I may shop for a boa after this post. I'm thinking perm, lipo and lift. Discover the left coast of move. All that darkness and inebriation might make these desert face crevasses less horrifying. You know, hang around in the corners, lurking. Tuna lad, place your ears upon the loving vibrations of your d-load screen, lose yourself and then wait for the repulsed screams of your loving wife. Exclaim three times and please resume your grooving. It is your right.