And at each such rehearsal, my brother would slide away from his seat, slowly crawl towards the front, and station himself right in front of me, with his only goal to make me break face and laugh on stage.
It worked 90% of the time.
|Don't ask me what the inadvertent farmer is; this is the only picture I could find of laughing ballerina.|
Fun fact: Years later, after a bunting demonstration, a softball coach would ask me if I ever took ballet. I defiantly told him that I had been on pointe and he snorted and told me that my parents had "wasted their money."
But I digress.
The point is, I had to go to a briefing this morning over at the Capitol.
A Senator-who-shall-remain-nameless got up to speak. The guy before him had read straight from a sheet of paper, but this guy was a seasoned pro. He started speaking, barely glancing at his notes.
And then he blanked.
Started up again.
And then blanked, again. He got to that point where he was looking at his paper and couldn't even read it.
I was in my seat, trying not to laugh
|Not me, but the look is dead on.|
We made eye contact.
And he lost it.
Quickly tried to turn it into a coughing fit, turned sideways, and then recovered admirably.
Senators...they're just like us.