Joining me at the bottom of the pool

Last week I came upon a heap of Iron Maiden records recently acquired by Half Price Books. This was a good fucking day. A sad day for somebody indeed, but nobody that I know. They obviously died or were forced to get rid of their Maiden collection in order to make room for newer, better stuff (like some giant inflatable Christmas decorations. It was, after all, rather immature to listen to those records). In any case, the day lives in the heart of me.

Now, what I really came to the table to discuss is the art of dance. I know that a) I am not good at dance and that b) if it were possible for me to be good at dance, it is unlikely that I'd put the effort in to come to resemble a champion or even to be able to move semi-elegantly. That being said, I've come to learn, through brief study, that dancing is a great life-saver. It keeps people slim and healthy, just like mom wanted. It keeps the heart pumping it does, and on top of that, it's great fucking fun. Wow. But, as I said, I won't likely be showing up to any fox-trot recitals or break-dancing shows. Not me. My BMI is slightly elevated, I know, and I could certainly benefit from some routines. But, let me tell you, it's not in the cards for me. My knees are clammy and my wrists are like glass. There's just no way. Unless, of course, I could do something for charity. In this case, I would get out there, for the children.

Donations, the amount left to your discretion, can (and should) be sent to me.