Diva by the Queen B

When Ian comes back from London for a brief week, you just clear your schedule and put on your dance shoes. No questions asked.

The magic cap that makes you feel like a Independent Woman, 

check ✓:

Keep-the-rules-out-but-wisdom-in evening 

(spoiler alert, I managed to lose both by 4AM)

It's inconvenient to carry with a disco ball,

better wear shiny pants instead. #Fridaynightwin

Probably making a quick Skype call with granny:

Trying to touch her ass, but still too shy:

Džeišus!

Maybe we found the self-timer button on the camera

and totally over abused it.

So embrace yourselves...:

Ian and ze ladies:

He is now strong enough to lift me.

I HAVE WAITED TEN YEARS FOR THIS!

*khm* we're not actually blood relatives:

The perfect eyebrows trolleybus girl:

Connecting people:

London has done him justice.

He has lost extra weight and gained so much swag:

Perhaps we listened few Queen B tunes.

I love him despite the farts and ambulances:

More hotness than should be allowed:

Time to go out.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall,

who's the first one to fall on the dance floor?"

"Mom, I'm ueufejlaisfupa9ufoe":

While out we met some pretty cool people.

(when did Ian's chin got so hairy?):

Mr.Ingu!:

Meliss!:

Then I matched on Tinder with this handsome guy,

however going home with him did not seem an option:

"Promise not to have too much fun without me":

And the finding myself tucked in bed,

the cab ride, the memory gone from my head.