NO I AM NOT KIDDING.
Veryvery loud Greek restaurant with pounding music and bellydancers. We went with my sister, some of the friends she grew up with, and enderfem. And everyone danced on tables. (Except for me; my balance is a bit too off for that. I can fall over walking down a hallway.)
I'm pretty sure the little girl I used to babysit doesn't wear underwear. I'm also pretty sure that I never wanted to know that. (EDIT for clarification: This was not Elayna. This was a girl a few years younger than my sister.)
I also didn't need to know quite yet that my daughter has inherited the Gojirawitz Hips.
*hides face* Teenage daughter. Dancing. On a table.
The line for therapy starts here.