Getting Lost and Dancing

Ladies and gentlemen: I was "that guy"! First one on the dance floor Saturday night, dancing all by my gooney self. Ok, I was not. A one Mr. Damian Broccoli was right behind me, because he is as awesome as I am. So we were "that guy"!

I got sweaty, but whatever. And I did a shot of Yeigermeister... my first and probably last. It's kind of gross. We had a great time, and I introduced myself to the Guy I See Everywhere. He was at the mall on Wednesday, he was at the Huntington Street Cafe on Thursday, and he was there on Saturday. He told me his name was A.J., and he probably thinks I'm a nut case for randomly bouncing over to him (would he think incorrectly? Many would say no).

Jen and I got lost Saturday afternoon. For as long as I've known her, I can count on one hand the times we were in a car together and I drove, and it's with good reason: she is a significantly better driver than I. This is not entirely difficult to accomplish. (plus, have you SEEN my car?! Who wants to get in THAT? Sometimes I don't!). Saturday, though, I was the one driving on our outing to GoodWill. We found the one in Monroe, and we went off to the one in Westport. The problem was, we got off the wrong exit, which would have been fine, but then we turned the wrong way and wound up driving around aimlessly for a significant period of time. There were gorgeous houses and it was raining and the leaves were turning, so it turned out to be a nice drive, but I am now officially dubbed "directionally challenged". And, to be fair, I should have listened to her. She knew the right exit to get off of... and I didn't listen. Jen was kind enough to not say "I told you so".

P.S. Song of the day to be stuck in my head: "Somebody Told Me" by the Killers.