Shake-shake, shake-shake-a-shake it!

So ... we spent Friday night at the Tower West bar, catching up with a lot of Matt's classmates, including Travis, who drove through an ice storm with a broken heater to get home in time for Christmas morning; Chris, who's shipping out to Iraq in April; Michael, whose wife is expecting kiddo No. 2; and a few others whom I knew and a lot of others whom I didn't ... and as we stood there, catching up and enjoying much good beer and trying to talk over the not-so-dulcet tones of the house band, another fellow was apparently enjoying the music so much that -- with or without a dance partner -- he was going to dance ... and dance he did.

Shake-your-money-maker, gettin'-jiggy-wit-it dancing.

Nobody in the group I was talking to knew who he was, but I spied him chatting it up with a few others later on. And I caught the grooviness on video.

"Do you happen to know who that is, Sarah?" one girl asked curiously, because I was about to pee my pants laughing while I taped it.

"No, no ... it's just totally cracking me up," I answered, trying to hold the camera steady.

This morning, as we chowed down on eggs and toast at Perkins, I saw Mr. Shake It in the back dining room, looking much more subdued (and a bit sleepy) in a red hoodie and trying to maintain conversation with what I assumed was his family. No jive going on in the earlier hours of a Saturday morning, apparently ...