Rob gets (nerd alert!) Games magazine, and we were doing one of the games together this morning over coffee. There were 15 illustrations and each one represented the name of a dance. Sorta - the catch was that whatever the drawing depicted was one letter off from the name of the dance. So, for example, there was an illustration of a pig with a shamrock. So we figured out that this was an Irish pig and then knew that the answer was Irish jig. And there was a picture of a rooster dressed as a punk rocker and we figured out he was a punky chicken and then knew the dance they wanted us to guess was the funky chicken. You with me?

Okay, so I was trying to figure out one that was a fax machine with horse legs that were running.

"Fax horse? Fax trot?"

"Yeah, that's it!" Rob said. "Faxtrot!"

"Faxtrot? What the hell dance is that supposed to be?"

Rob looked at me like the answer was completely obvious and that surely I was joking.

"Seriously, faxtrot? I don't get it."

"Faxtrot," he said in his think about it tone.

I looked at him blankly.

"It's FOXTROT!" he exclaimed, exasperated. "FOXTROT!!"

"Ohhhh, foxtrot!"

"Yeah, you know - the dance that has been the focus of our concentration for the past two weeks?!"

Well sure, when you put it like that, it seems totally obvious.