I think one of the very best things about my job (and I'm the first to admit, it's a very sparse category--not unlike the Oscar for Best Actress) is that people sing to me.
For some reason, guests are unable to remember either the titles of songs or the artists who recorded them. Thus, they enlist my support, asking "Who does that song? You know, the one on the radio that goes like..."
Today, one middle-aged woman performed the Pussycat Dolls' "Don't Cha" as I looked on in detached horror.
"Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?/ Don't you wish your girlfriend was a freak like me..." she caterwauled, adding a wholly unnecessary but vastly entertaining improvised dance number--pitched somewhere between Ellen-Degeneres-on-NyQuil and Drunken-Welshmen-on-Soul Train--to the mix.
"You know which one I'm talking about?" she asked breathlessly, after she'd finished her impromptu routine.
"I have no idea," I replied. "How does it go again?"