Not much of note to report. We began our hospital experiments this week, and I am stationed at a local nursing home. It's really nice, actually, though on my first day I learned what may turn out to be an immutable truth: old men have dirty, dirty, dirty minds. Really dirty. I'm not going into detail here, but be sure to ask me about it sometime.
YMCA Update: I've gone twice!
I like the Y. That's the hipster lingo shortening the already short acronym of YMCA. I am dismayed to say that I am a terrible weakling, but that also gives me hope: I can't get any weaker, and I can only get stronger.
Immutable truth of the Y: Old men like to be naked. It's disgusting. I walked into what appeared to be a geriatric orgy or pow-wow on Friday....and it was just shower time. Totally not my bag. I understand now something of martyrdom.
Okay, I need to go and make my lunch so that I can avoid the mystery-meat extravaganza that awaits us at the nursing home. Yesterday we had difficulty ascertaining whether it was a "meat that smelled like tuna" or a "tuna that looked like meat" sandwich. Tapioca or Rice pudding? Urine specimin or a shot of apple juice? Such are but a few of the many mysteries we plunge ourselves into during this experiment.
I wrote this for the 2018 North American Irish Dancing Championships, but I reckon it applies to any Irish dancer! --> ...
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