Good old-fashioned knee slappin'

The new year has been rung in. I'm tired and a wee bit dehydrated, but ready to Live the Dream as was declared by myself and other fellow revellers last night. The stroke of twelve found me at the McMenamin's in Bend enjoying the twangy bluegrass tunes of Moon Mountain Ramblers. I rode my bike down to the show and met my roommates and some other people there at about ten o'clock. Of course I couldn't pass up the opportunity to get some good dancing in. After all, bluegrass is my favorite music to dance to (followed very closely by eighties hits). I came to the realization that the enthusiasm with which one (at least myself) is dancing to bluegrass can be measured by the angle formed by your upper leg, hip joint, and upper body as the legs move up and down with the beat. When my hip joint is close to a ninety degree angle, making my upper leg almost parallel to the floor, as if I was stepping up on a ledge, correlates to my maximum level of stoke. I peaked at just the right time, about 1:00. I made it outside in time to see a guy get punched in the face. I also helped my roommate argue with a short fat lady about driving SUV's. She thought we were pathetic to ride our bikes to the show. She was proudly waiting for her huge SUV, which she said would never run out of gas because there are 82 years of oil left for her to burn in her monstrosity. She clearly has never had the joy of drunken bike riding. Her loss.