Bohemian Rapsody.

Today children, the topic is dancing.

We will discuss the total lack of any discernable skill on the dance floor that I exhibit,
the innate talent that the Queen shares with our graceful niece the Mistress of Wazoo,
the apparent magical abilities of a certain purple hat endowing a certain professorial nephew with Travolta like happy feet, etc etc.

"Why, it's our Finnish Kirellian heritage!" my lovely wife intoned.
I might buy that, but I've seen most of the rest of the clan try to dance.
Only yours truly is more dance-ically disadvantaged.

Besides, though I often thought some of the Familia were from other worlds,
I suspected Alpha Centauri, not the Kirellian empire.

My people, being heavily invested in a German and English heritage are obviously Klingon.
We are a riot at parties if you don't mind breakage, and great in a fight.
That's about it for our graceful abilities.

Now for story time, kiddies!
Gather your Kool-aid and cookies and listen up!

Once upon a time, there was a mother, a daugther and an Auntie.
Lovely ladies all, and usually quite sane.
On this particular occassion whilst browsing in a thrift store the daughter had a muse.

"Why don't we all pick out something really, really hideous for one another, and then we will wear said outfits to supper when our Knights (pronounced, Kin-Igits) Gallant pick us up in their steel chariot."

"Huzzah! shouted the girls in unison"
And they proceeded to shop.
Several outfits too hideous for even their state of silliness were rejected.
Then, success, in a manner of speaking.
Not only did they purchase these monstrosities, they changed into them afterwards.
(See picture for exculpatory evidence)
The daughter is actually wearing sleep wear, the mother, impossible to identify the genre' of her frock, and the auntie a blouse made for Miss Fabersham right out of Great Expectations.

Upon re-viewing this picture, the Queen said
"It looks like we were on our way to interview for a job at a girlie-club!"

Imagine the surprise and wonder when Sir Meredith the brave, and Sir Arthur the stunned picked them up in front of the store.
Pole-axed might be a better description of our reaction.

The happy party then proceeded to Bahama Breeze, a Island themed eatery in yonder Raleigh towne.
Mojitos were imbibed by all but the chariot driver, (a sublime mixture of mint, sugar cane juice, and allegedly some Mount Gay Barbados Rum)
and wonderous looks were constantly given our way by our fellow diners.

Their looks said "No, we are not laughing with you, we ARE laughing at you!"

Afterwards, the ladies all took naps. What a fabulous day for them!

If you want to exercise your imagination, picture any men you know ever engaging in like shenanigans.

"No Vern, that yellow evening gown don't do you justice! You're a winter, Bro, remember?"
"Try the midnight blue ensemble'."

Ah, but Vive La Difference, ladies!