Tuesday, May 13, 2008

The Singing Alien

Okay, today was an interesting day in the torture chamber, and I'll tell y'all all about it just as soon as I get something off of my chest: there ought to be some agency that regulates people who manufacture scales. I have cut WAY back on what I'm eating--I've not had a Mega Moo Mocha Moolatte since way before they closed the Dairy Queen in Greer. I've even cut back on wine--I only drink it only on weekends. And I've been exercising my derrierre off every day.

And today, that lying piece-of-junk scale said I'd gained a pound. Myra should have that thing calibrated more often. With all those starving people with aching muscles running around the place, somebody could snap. It might be me.

Anyway, today, I danced with Donna, who, previously I had thought of as "The Serene Alien." She just has this peaceful aura about her that calms your nerves while your blood is pounding in your ears and your left arm is tingling. Today her serenity was taxed when there was a music malfunction. Now, with no music, many Jazzercise instructors would have immediately opted to switch to a body sculpt format, which would have meant getting to lie down on the mats sooner, but lots more spot torture.

Not Donna...in Donna's class, the show does in fact go on. She SANG the songs to us, seamlessly inserting cues into the lyrics. It hepled that Donna actually CAN sing--she's quite good. But the truly amazing thing--and the dead give away that's she's a high ranking alien--is that she never lost her breath nor glistened while dancing the highest intensity song in her set and singing the whole time.

Betty was Donna's class manager today. Class managers log the victims into the computer and keep 911 on speed dial and such. They also assist in technical emergencies. Things really got interesting when Betty joined in to help Donna out with the singing. Don't get me wrong--lots of us sing from time to time: with the music playing at rock-concert levels, who can tell that you couldn't carry a tune in a Kate Spade purse? But, there was no music today...

Betty, bless her heart...the best thing I can say about Betty's singing is that it's better than mine. And I'll say this: Betty didn't sing long before Donna somehow fiddled with that sound system and got that sucker kick-started.

I'm going to get my aspirin. Then I'm going to Goggle the manufacturer of that sorry excuse for a scale...

Peace, out...


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