This is serious.

You know how I realised that I'm in a state of emergency? And I mean- a serious emergency? And that the only thing that can save me now is a massive night out where I win a few dance-offs and where everyone else starts to take off their shoes and go home when the sun comes up, apart from me, and maybe my party partner? One of those nights where my mascara ends up on my eyelids and I'm kind of sweaty and my hair is messy at the end of the night, but where I don't give a rat's arse about it, because I'm dancing and my feet move by themselves?

The moment I noticed that this state of emergency has come upon me was when I was at my parents' place, in the kitchen, cooking dinner. The TV was on, and suddenly I noticed that I was dancing wildly through the kitchen to the tacky songs of the COMMERCIALS! I mean, excuse me! Helloooo! Commercials! Honestly. And they weren't even any good. Pretty bad, as a matter of fact.

The thing is, I haven't had a really big night out with lots of dancing in a little while. And I do need them kind of regularly, like other people need other things, like air and stuff. The thing is, since I have moved back to Switzerland, my weekend activities have changed a bit. A lot of my old friends here think that it's more important to have babies and stuff instead of going out dancing their arses off with me. Others again feel the need to fall pregnant or think they are too old to go out dancing. Not all of them, of course, but still, my dancing shoes have been just a touch neglected.

So, the way I see it, something needs to be done about this. Because next time, it could be found in my mum's kitchen dancing to Brittney Spears. And when I realise what I'm doing, I might drop dead. And because I think I'm too young to die, I better go and work out an emergency plan now.

Oh yeah, and if anybody feels the urge to try to dance me off the floor, please, I urge you, come forward, and by all means, do try. I WILL destroy you, but you can always try.