Have you ever had one of those dreams? One of those dreams where you’re getting ready for the party of the year, it’s the biggest thing and every one will be there so you want to look your best. You spend hours getting ready, guys, you slick your hair back and comb your sideburns and put on your dad’s best aftershave, you’re lookin’ groovy. Girls you spend a couple hours picking out the right dress and then after deliberating over sixteen different pairs of shoes you decide to change your dress anyway. Your hair is perfect and you just had an expensive manicure, you’re looking “shmashing”. (read like Sean Connary might say it) You get in your car and go to the party, everything is working like clockwork. You arrive at the party, fashionably late, for the purpose of everyone there to see your triumphant entry. You look through the window on the way to the door, sure enough, everybody is there, everyone who’s somebody that is. You take one more look at yourself in the brass knocker on the door to make sure everything is okay, and then your turn the door knob and the door opens.
One by one the heads turn, and one by one the mouths drop open, the music that was grooving when you
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