Everybody Dance!
OK, LET ME BE COMPLETELY HONEST. I don’t do “Exercise.” My doctors, current and past, suggested, almost demanded, that I get myself into a regular program of exercise. There are just two parts to that which stop me cold.
“Regular”
“Exercise”
The “Program” part I’m cool with. I like Programs. I watch a Program or two almost every day. We have cable.
“My favorite exercise is a cross between a Lunge and a Crunch.
I call it Lunch.”
This morning my newly altered eyes popped open at about 5:15 AM. That is a good sign that the day that lies ahead will be successful. Almost by reflex I turned on the TV to catch the Morning News. The News was not there. The News is always there – but not today.
In its place was an infomercial for another Exercise/Weight Loss Routine – a “Hip-Hop Dance” Program. The screen was filled with one man who had more and better muscles than all of Cleveland and a half dozen men and women in Spandex who looked like they could all beat me up. Everyone was dancing up a storm. They were moving and flailing about to some unheard music. It reminded me of the “Macarena” dance craze that probably cost Al Gore the White House a few years back. It was like the Macarena only with the added frenzy of a flock of frightened sheep. I watched them for 15 minutes and by then I was clearly exhausted. I could barely get out of bed.
As I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to figure out which sock should go on which foot, they started the “Hard Sell.”
“For only 4 easy payments of $19.95” I could get everything I would ever need to “Hip Hop” my way to good health and beauty. That’s 80 Bucks for me to dance like a gray haired MC Hammer.
But wait! There’s more!
The Voiceover told me that the sweaty guy who led the dance group would also send me a personalized diet plan and recipes “At no extra charge.” They would come along with several DVDs with some other dance routines to help me tighten up parts of my body that I haven’t seen in decades. One of his devotees/dancers/customers came onto the screen and told me that she went from a size 18 dress down to a size 2 by “
Hip-Hopping” and I could too!
Honestly – does anyone really want to see me in a dress – size 2 or otherwise?
I didn’t think so.
“But wait again! There’s still more!”
In a final burst of “Hip-Hop” energy the disembodied voice told me that if I called in the next 5 minutes (Operators were standing-by) they would cut the price by 75%! All of a sudden that 80 Bucks withered down to $20. Even the Andrew Jackson in my wallet looked surprised
Twenty Bucks plus free “expedited shipping” and I could be “Hip-Hopping” my way to Tight Abs, Tight Booty, and Tight whatever else was loose in just 3 to 5 days. For Twenty Bucks I would have a sculpted tookus and enough “Hip-Hop” music to open my own Rehab Clinic.
I thought about it. If I started “Hip-Hopping” my way to good health my doctors would be pleased, but my wife, the lovely and already suspicious, Dawn, would start packing her bags. Yeah, I thought about it, but I decided to take that 20 Bucks that I almost spent so I could fit into a size 2 dress and I put it to a more practical purpose. I went for coffee and on the way home I picked up some bagels and cream cheese.
“L’chaim!”
Down the Hall on Your Left 
We love to dance. If I could remember the steps, it would be even more fun. But I’m talking as a couple, not behind some sweaty guy in a g-string who uses supplements to ‘pump himself up’. Start walking to Starbucks and that will keep the docs at bay with their constant reminders. Just stick with a simple coffee and nit one of their food items. Ever see the calories on that stuff? Yikes!
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The only thing I get at St Arbucks is simple iced coffee, unsweetened. I don’t care for the fancy drinks.
As far as dancing goes, when I try to dance everyone thinks I’m having a seizure. I auctioned off my g-strings years ago.
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There are 4 or 5 SB within 15 minutes of us and we generally go to two of them. One is next door to a Hallmark so our coffee turns into an expensive stop. We like a strong blend (Italian, Verona) made on the Clover machine. Does yours have a Clover? A it’s kind of a French press (not as exciting as a French kiss, but at my age, who cares) but it’s a vacuum process instead of pressing. Makes a nice bold result.
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Hilarious, John!!
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