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"Dan, The Canadian"
posted October 20, 2005 @9:01p
So as I'm being verbally abused with David-Spade-lookalike comments, preparing to play the Preservation Pub on Tuesday night, in walks this little skinny guy that looks like an even smaller-framed version of Paul Simon from 1976. He's got the little golf cap, the sports jacket... the whole deal. His name is Dan, and he's very outgoing, describing his current tour and his 796-hour drive down from Canada. A pleasure to talk to.

He gives his performance. It starts out a little slow; but by his third song, he's really into it and so is the crowd. He's got the harmonica strapped to his face, stomping his foot, yelling his lyrics. Good performance.

Well when it's all over, he comes to me and makes a big deal of making sure I know he's going to stay and watch my performance. He's not leaving, he wants to hear my short set (which happened to be an Audioslave cover and "That One Thing On Her Mind", by the way). He was planning on leaving early, but changed his mind once he spoke with me. He's gotta see me, and wants me to know that.

Cool. Thanks Dan.

Five artists later, I give my performance. I have a good time, and it was the first time I played without sitting down. Normally I'm lazy, so this is pretty out of character. But I like it.

As I leave the stage he calls me over and says, "man I didn't hear any of your performance." Of course I think he's joking, he made such a big deal about staying. But just in case, I don't laugh - he's Canadian, and nobody really knows when a Canadian is trying to be funny. So I just stare. Blankly. He's like, "it doesn't have anything to do with you." Again, I'm blank. He stares back a moment, then follows, "I was just talking to Tracy here, and lost track of what was going on. I'm sorry."

Oh okay. Tracy. Thanks Tracy.

But then I hear a girl's voice, which happened to be coming out of the mouth of Tracy, say, "well I thought you were great." As I look over to thank her, I feel my right eye pulling downward fiercely, and the left eye following behind. Despite my most valiant efforts, I lose all eye contol. Believe me, there was nothing I could do.

Let me just stop right here and say that I'm not one of those standard typical guys that never talk to girl's faces. That's not me. And if I truly was a chest-talker, I'd freely admit it... Probably... But what I discover is enough to tug on even the strongest eye muscles: approximately 94% of her left boob is showing.

So I guess Dan the Canadian just got a little distracted.

Thanks Dan.


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