FULL MOON AHEAD!

Full moon to-nite.

That’s the reason the shoes don’t fit. That’s the reason that guy in the big blue truck nearly t-boned you even though there was no one else at the intersection. That’s the reason there’s a song on the radio called “no panties on the dancefloor.”

One time I went out dancing and the pair of underwear I had been wearing the last time I wore those particular jeans fell out my pantleg onto the dance floor. They had been crammed up in the leg all night long, waiting for their chance to fall out. It was embarrassing but not as embarrassing as the time I was drunk, relieving myself by the side of the road (Georgia St. as it turns out), lost my balance and fell on my face. Yup, that was worse.