The Scream Heard Round The World, or How I Gave Myself an Aneurysm

Years from now, a tale will be told around campfires. Its the kind of story that gets bottled up and stored in sorcerer's wagons next to the eye of newt and pixie dust. Its the stuff dreams and wishes are made of, and kiddies, it happened to your old Aunt Bone Junior.

Whenever a young girl cries because her crush doesn't like her back, or a chubby loner pines for the quarterback, the legendary ultimate underdog tale will be told of how Bone Junior called The Huge Bald Guy With Biceps As Big As My Head and asked him out to the Jazz game.

And how he said yes.

They will tell of how she screamed with such fervor that a roommate came running, thinking she'd seen a spider; and how she fell to her knees and threw her arms in the air, a la Rocky. Lit'rally.

You married people might not remember what it was like to have such a raging crush on someone that you couldn't even look at them, and to be convinced that you could never ever ever talk to them, and that they'd never ever look twice at you - someone so unattainable and so far out of your league that it seemed hopeless.

But I'm here to tell you that miracles really can happen. And I don't care if he said yes out of pity or just to be nice. I don't care if he said yes because he felt sorry for me or because he didn't want to hurt my feelings by saying no. I don't care if we go to the game and then nothing comes of it - because he still said yes, and I at least get a shot.

If nothing else, I have solidified my bragging rights amongst friends. As Ylime so eloquently put it, "We can never again say you don't have the balls, because You. Have. The. Balls."

And she never says 'balls'.