Lose Your Blues Everybody Cut Footloose

I have decided to change my vote come November. I did not realize Mitt and Ann (no “e”, eff that ginger Anne of Green Gables, Canadian Socialist orphan) Romney met at a dance and he escorted her home safely. But I am not going to vote for Mr. Romney, and neither will you after reading this post. I didn’t realize acting courteously at a dance uniquely qualified one to be the leader of the free world, or I would have mentioned this earlier. I’m sure you’ll join me in a write-in campaign for myself as President once you have heard the way I behave at these things.

Every May, Kiser Middle School celebrates chronic teenaged awkwardness in the form of the Eighth Grade Dance. I intended to go with a group of girl friends. My mom took me to Lerner’s New York (some of us were too husky for Delia’s) to get matching separates and a sweet pair of black pleather platform sandals. My best friend, the Silly Squirrel was asked to the dance by a very nice boy in our class. She took me along to prevent any uncomfortable romantic overtures.

Not only did I go the dance with them, I also went to his house beforehand to take pictures with the two of them on their date. Never has a third wheel been awkward. If anyone has those pictures, I’d appreciate them being reduced to ash and sprinkled over the set of the movie Carrie. At the end of the evening, my dad made sure all of us got home safely, since thirteen year olds can’t legally drive themselves.

If that doesn’t entice you to vote for me, I also accompanied my friend the Restless Robin to his senior prom after his male date chickened out. I was still unable to drive, but I made sure he arrived at his comfortable sleeping destination before my dad picked me up and took me home. During the dance, I survived homophobic slurs (not meant for me, but not not meant for me) and had shoes thrown at my back.

Now that the voting paradigm has shifted, it’s important to remember people you should not write in, as they have records of poor dance behavior. Donna Martin got fall down drunk at the prom. She may have graduated, but she should not be president. Kelly Kapowski famously cheated on Zach Morris and made him too sad to go to prom. She should not be president. Kelso took Pam Macy to Prom night, but only to make Jackie jealous, thus toying with two hearts at one dance. He should definitely not be president.

Since I have two recorded instances of exemplary dance etiquette versus Mitt’s one and Obama’s zero, I’ll begin preparing my acceptance speech for November 6th. I mean, I’ll act surprised, but after reading this, I’m sure your mind is made up in the appropriate direction. Feel free to write in my dad for VP, since he drove.

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