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So I'm thinking, "I've got a date. With a girl. Who I really like. Who likes me. Sweet deal!" I get up, have a shower and a shave (It feels good. Really good.). I'm dancing around my room like a fool as I get dressed. Not the subdued weight-shifting thing I normally consider dancing; a full-on shirtless flail-fest as Matthew Good Band's "Alabama Motel Room" screams out of my stereo. I finish dressing and start smelling good and sweatless and jump through my toothbrush and into my dad's room. I can have the car because he decided he wasn't gonna need it after all. I crank the volume knob and reach to pop in my tape of Underdogs and Raygun. Before I get it in, "Alabama Motel Room" is blasting from the FM dial. "Sweet Fuckin' Deal!" I roll down all the windows and announce to the world that I'm gonna have a great fuckin' night.
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