Bad Nervousness

I just realized that I have an Arts Festival in two weeks, and at that Arts Festival I am slated to read a story about a time I went swing dancing, got hit on by the most beautiful woman in the world, and promptly dropped her on the floor.

And it was all real, too! Mostly. I did get hit on by the most beautiful woman in the world, and we did dance. But she dropped me quickly (like a bad habit) in order to dance with some dude with larger pectoral muscles. And later that evening, I did drop somebody on the floor, but it wasn't the most beautiful woman in the world. It was my friend's girlfriend. She was trying to teach me a new dance move at the time while my friend was up at the bar getting something to drink (it was non-alcoholic, I think). Luckily, it was an accident. And luckily my friend was (and is) a lot smaller than me and could not have kicked my ass if he tried.

Besides, they broke up and she went to grad school in either Montana or Missouri or one of those states that starts with an "M" that I can't remember. My friend got married to another woman several years later (after, himself, graduating and spending several years teaching people in the mountainous country of Lesotho), and now is a prestigous member of the vanuted teaching staff at a school in Gahanna, which I think sounds too much like Gehenna for comfort. In fact, I often feel like asking if Gahanna is a hellish place, but nobody would get the joke but me and I would be embarrased.

Kind of like what is going to happen when I get in front of a large group of people at this Arts Festival in a few weeks and try to mumble and stumble my way through this pointless story of mine.

So come on down and watch The Sasquatch make an ass of himself. No matter how great or how horrible the evening is, it is guaranteed entertainment!