I once went out with my girlfriends to The Buffalo Club. I had just been diagnosed with knee trouble and therefore could not dance. Not that I would have, anyway. There was this one petite lady who was out on the floor, shaking what her mamma gave her. She was a good dancer, but her shirt tag was sticking out. Her friends ignored it, as I tried to ignore the growing compulsion to hobble up to her and stick the tag back in her tank top. This has been your random thought for the day. Carry on.