Admit it...

Admit it: you had a dance routine worked out to this song, too:



Complete with a pounding of our hands over our hearts, falling to the ground in romantic-agony and jogging in place while frantically glancing over our shoulders to mark the position of our pursuers who would like nothing more than to squash our obviously "meant to be" love stories; my little sister and I would spend many an afternoon dancing to our pilfered copy of our pre-teen sister's "Tiffany" tape so that we could listen to something other than the only other tape I owned. Though that tape was Starship. No, Not that Nikki Minaj crap that makes me gag. The REAL Starship:



Admittedly, this tape had another dozen BRILLIANT songs that were perfect for hand jives and duet routines and, had a producer of the Mickey Mouse Show glanced through our bedroom window during one of our rehearsals (it could've happened), he would have never believed that "We Built This City" wasn't our best routine. But our parents put our bunk beds in front of the window so all he would have seen was the white bunks with flowered comforters draped over into a fort.

So, clearly; it's my parents' fault that my sister and I never made it big on the Mickey Mouse show... Yet another grudge to hold against them.