A little backstory: Instead of dinner, I just ate three columns of Ritz crackers. Doing the math, I realized this was the caloric equivalent to eating four Big Macs. 

Cut to me wondering why, if neon colors and sweatbands have resurrected themselves, Jazzercise hasn't made a triumphant return. Seriously, I'd hit some classes if they had a decent soundtrack. I'm thinking a little Klaxons, some Digitalism, maybe throw in some Robot moves with The Pity Party...

I even seem to remember Cobrasnake getting his sweat on as an aerobics instructor for Paper Mag 's quick west coast lovefest a few years back. Why did it not stick?!

Fist on table, ready to get funky, I say we mobilize our forces and crank up the jams in a dark, disco-riffic workout/club setting. Good for the ears, excellent for the booties.   

(As a prime example of No-Not-Quite-But-Thank-You, I present video of L.A.'s beloved Ditty Bops' induction into Jazzercise fame. Warning: may contain footage of older women shaking their ta-tas. But the payoff comes at the end as Ditty Bop and former model Amanda Barrett is seen in a skin-tight aerobics getup and pink hair. Even as a straight chick, I'll admit that's hot.)

I was on the phone with Jimmy, who works at the Hive Gallery downtown, about the art walk this Thursday. Apparently, folks get on their bikes as a swarm to tour all the radastic galleries, and the Hive usually ends up as the destinaton at the end of the night. This of course, has me dreaming up pretty scenes of me and a bike, joining the gallery tour, then bonding on secret pathways all over the city.

..Me and my bike, stopping for a picnic on the grass, me and my bike, hitting the Bicycle Kitchen for a tune up, spending the afternoon laughing in the grass, me and my bike, sharing an inside joke. My bike would leave me comments on Myspace that only I would get, and at Christmas we'd bake cookies.

Should I just buy one? Should I troll the bike ads, looking for my, um, sole mate?

Seriously, how cute is this?