Who couldn't use some hot club moves?

It struck me this morning that I owe it to my friends and family to review "Core Rhythms," the aforementioned "borrowed" workout files. It promises to help you lose four inches in SIX DAYS. Impressive, but is it fun? (Trying to lift a cast iron stove for six days will burn pounds too, but it's a one-way ticket to a herniated disc. I don't even know what that means, I just heard Kat say it once. The disc part, I mean. I know what a cast iron stove means. Or does.)

Jaana and Julia, Latin and ballroom dance champs with a gazillion titles between them, have created these DVDs to help people "get a dancer's body." Inspiring, though less than realistic. I'm 5'4 and will never carry the mantle of "legginess." Why am putting everything in quotes today? I've already done it four times and am showing no signs of slowing.

I think these ladies look like Sims. The technicolor outfits with grommeted belts aren't helping. (Also- why grommets? That seems unsafe to me in a workout setting.)

Let's begin. I'll try to jot down things as they occur, giving me a nice break from actually "working out."

Okay, I realize that Jaana is supposed to look kinda "street" with her b-ball bouncing hands...but truly, it's coming off a bit Henson. As in Grover and Bert. (Remember when Bert danced to "Doin' the Pigeon?" Like that.)

I've just now realized that the huge torso on the screen behind them is, in fact, not in real time. But not only is it prerecorded, it's also a half second off. I am trying to follow an inaccurate torso! And wait...that's Julia's sports bra on the screen. But...but...the belly button has a ring! Julia doesn't have a belly ring...but JAANA DOES. Oh my God, are you guys sharing workout clothes?

Oh, now we're drumming in the air. To the side! To the other side! Oh no, we're drumming low and around. This feels like a drum circle. I hate drum circles. I am reminded strongly of hall parties at Hampshire College and I am not enjoying this at all.

Julia just let out the highest-pitched squeal I've ever heard, due to, you know, the intensity of the hip flicks. It unnerved me a little (I don't like yelling in public places- I have a fear of confrontation) but not as much as the LOOK that just passed between Jaana and Julia. Jaana just sent the most indulgent smile Julia's way and they totally just had a look of...something. (Are you guys lovers? You can totally tell me.) It's like when you find out that two teachers at your high school are dating. It's not outside the realm of your comprehension that they CAN date, it's just not something you'd ever think about.

Now we're doing Julia's favorite move- I'm gonna go ahead and call it the Electrocuted Starfish. "Do you see why it's my favorite move?" Not really. I think I just snapped my shoulder blade. Am I toned yet?

Now's a good time for a break.

No way...I just measured my waist and hips (weird to do at the workplace, but the bitsy baby is sleeping so it's not AS weird as it could be.) I started the DVDs on Monday, did the full workout that day and Tuesday, did a 15-minute whatever bloggy workout just now...and I've lost an inch on both waist AND hips. Uh, is this witchcraft? I've literally exuded no effort greater than running to the train. I'm so sorry, Jaana! Forgive me, Julia! You are truly great!

I'm sold. (On my free software.) I'm gonna do this AT LEAST once a week. Maybe. Who's with me? Now, if we can only get a better soundtrack. I can't jive to canned mambo/techno-lite muzak. Maybe some Boston? That'd get me up to a solid twice a week. Maybe.

This is the closest I came to standing still.

Seeing Boston in concert was truly a religious experience. Sure, I'm a Catholic and I go to mass and all that...but I can also worship at the [tasteful] altar of Tom Scholz. It was incredible. Not so much the fend-for-yourself seating- there was a line to get "into" the roped-off outdoor seating area, plus security people had no idea where seats were, nor did they care to help you. And when I tried to muscle my way through the hundreds of people standing behind the "seating area" to buy a tee shirt, I was stepped over, shoved aside, kicked in the ankle and pinched without mercy. Once at the stand, however, I discovered that they only take cash! Seriously? Thirty-five bucks for a [rad] tee shirt and you expect me to just have cash? Oh, okay, I'll just muscle my way up a hill, also crowded with people from the backwoods of Wisconsin (do they have backwoods? I truly don't know) to pay a three buck service fee from an unnamed ATM. It may have just been a dude sitting inside a box. But he gave me cash, so that's nice. I squoze my way back down through the crowd, back to the stand, got my [rad] shirt and wiggled back up and around the crowd to get back into line to squeeze into the seating area. Styx had already begun but that's okay. "Renegade" sounded good, though.

So, throughout Styx's set I was bouncing around with impatience. Seriously, I thought my heart was gonna implode from the sheer awesomeness of finally getting to see Boston in concert. (Keely's dad in 1986 after refusing to let her go see Boston/Black Crowes: "There's plenty of time to see them when you're older." Sure, I was six...but whatever.)

And then: "Are you ready for some rock?"

Yes! Yes I am!

And oh my goodness, perhaps I was not ready for some rock. Their guitars (and my heart) soared with the ferocity of a jet taking off. I punched P.J. in the arm and asked if he could believe it. He could, he answered. (Poor Peej. I may have broken his ribcage in my moshpit of one.) But they played "Cool the Engines!" That's a B-side from Third Stage! And "The Launch!" That's the song that my Dad would play for us in the Aerostar, pretending the volume didn't work. He'd turn the volume up and up and jokingly say "Oh, I don't hear anything," but we knew that the slow build of the bass would inevitably make way for a van-shattering celebration of guitars and fist-pumping chord progressions.

The set list was fantastic, comprised entirely of songs that I readily screamed along to, even if the majority of the audience didn't recognize half of them. Posers. They did a nice tribute to Brad Delp, another song from Third Stage called "A Man I'll Never Be," and everyone whipped out their cellphones (the new lighter). At the end, however, Michael Sweet (former lead singer of Stryper) pointed up to the sky. And a blue spotlight appeared on Michael, as if Brad himself deemed Michael a worthy replacement and this was Michael's way of accepting that great responsibility. It was a bit much, but I didn't mind. People ate it up. Again, posers.

However, ending with "Party?" For a second encore? Please. If I may be so bold, that is the LEAST awesome song ever, written by Boston or otherwise. It's up there with "She's having my baby." (Not written by Boston.) But these fools dug it so much that they were up on folding chairs and high-fiving each other. Seriously? You don't wanna end with, oh, "Let Me Take You Home Tonight?" Or perhaps "I Had a Good Time?" Heck, play "More Than a Feeling" again. (Please. And did I mention that I walked down the aisle to an organ version of "More Than A Feeling?" 'Cause I totally did.)

But whatever. It was still in the top three shows of all time for me. Tom Scholz' guitar solo (followed by his synth solo- yes, a synth solo) was jaw-dropping. The man can play so fast! And on such Boston-sounding instruments! That he invented! Even if we kept getting shoved back into the aisles by the positively moronic security guards (Why the hell are you in the aisles? Clear this aisle! Are you dancing? Sit in your folding chair!) it was a crazy amazing concert.

And definitely more than a feeling. Something clearly more tangible.

OMG.

Okay, this is gonna hafta be quick. (For, you see, I'm just in from Cape Cod via Providence and I'm picking up a rental car for Wisconsin via Chicago.)

SO. Left the fam at the beach this morning (we had a great time, but that's for another post) and my folks dropped me off at the Providence airport around 10am. And who was at the curbside check-in with me but SURVIVOR? That's right, the epic band Survivor was heading to Chicago as well. Being the crazed rock superfan that I am, I went straight up to the lead singer.

"I'm a huge fan."

"You are?" He asked, slightly startled.

"Yep," I replied, leaving them to their check-in. I was flying (and not just literally.) Survivor! I love them! So, I got into the security line only to hear behind me "I'm getting in line with her- she's cute!" Um, hello Robin McAuley, lead singer of SURVIVOR! I giggled and made some lame joke about taking off a belt and removing laptops from cases. (For all the comedic acumen I pretend to have, this is the best I can come up with?) He thought I was charming. Or frightening. I asked if they were playing in Chicago and he told me that they were on their way to St. Louis, returning to Chi in August.

"I will so be there," I told him.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"Yup, you'll see me dancing in the back row or on the lawn..."

He told me I should get better seats, like the front. I explained that it was a little out of my price range. He then went on to ask me if I'D LIKE FREE TICKETS. Um, yes. Yes I would. He told me to give him my info and he'd MAIL THEM OUT. (Sorry about the caps, I'm just so terribly excited.) Now, anyone who knows me truly well knows how sacrosanct my journals are. NOT TODAY. I tore a middle page out of my current one and wrote down Keely Flynn's address. That's right, in the heat of the moment (that's an Asia song, I know) I reverted to my maiden name. (Sorry, Peej.)

He shook my hand. "Nice to meet you, Keely. I'm Robin." "Um, I know," I said. He laughed. Either I was incredibly refreshing or startlingly stalkish.

"Have a good flight!" I exclaimed!

"Come say hi!"

"OKAY!!!"

So, I ducked into a bathroom and called my Mom and Dad, my sisters, my husband, and texted my high school best friend. Then, after brushing my hair for the first time today, I made my way to the gate. Maybe I'd get a pic with them! But then I remembered...my camera died YESTERDAY. And we'd have to shut off phones soon! So, I went up to the wonderfully tolerant Robin MacAuley and apologized for being obnoxious, but could I have a photo with him?

"That's not obnoxious, that's awesome!"

So there you go. And I tried for witty again, seriously I did, but I just came off as a tweaked groupie. I quoted the part of Anchorman where Ron Burgundy says that Survivor doesn't return his calls but that's okay because they're Survivor and he's not. (This is truly all I could come up with?)

And I sat with them on the plane. And Robin McAuley said I was a good hugger.

But now I seriously must bounce out...for I am seeing BOSTON AND STYX tomorrow night in Wisconsin! (I realize it sounds like I'm having the best week ever from 1985, I truly do.) Whoo hoo!

Or I'd take one of those ninja turtle ice creams with gumball eyes...

Do you know how hard it is to get [free] internet in far-flung places like the upper Cape? Well, I'm currently pirating a signal from the next door neighbor's cottage, sitting in the back of my Dad's borrowed Yukon in the torrential rain. It's like a little office in here. Ooh, that was thunder. Thankfully I'm in a trunk!

Okay, my Dad just came out and bodily moved me back into the cottage, saying something about "the news" and "quick strikes." Sure, Dad. Fiiine. (I'll just post this later.)

So. Since getting here (aside from having to jet to the airport at 5:45am and waking UP at 5:50am- we did the Home Alone dash) it's been pretty uneventful and terrific. I've consumed more shellfish than is probably wise (at the Lobster Pot, no less, quite possibly the greatest restaurant ever), built the most structurally sound moat in the Harbor (sure, my two-year old nephew helped, but it was mainly my construction site), and came down with a bizarre and inexplicable full-body rash. Kate thinks it's an allergy to shellfish HA HAH. (Like that would even slow me down.) Give up now, ocean life! I'll pretend it's like that episode of Sesame Street where Bert and Ernie are fishing on a boat and Ernie gets all the fish by yelling "Here, fishie FISHIE FISHIE!" And the fish jump in the boat. And, presumably, he eats them for dinner.

Not to say that it's been totally idyllic and completely without conflict here. Why, just the other day a pile of dog poo was spotted on the lane to the beach with a sign posted beside it, asking "Did you forget something?" Ouch. And the signal we've all been pirating from is called "Lazy Summer Home." Quite the misnomer, when you consider that seven laptop-laden adults are running around the backyard like crazy people, yelling "I've got four bars!" and "Dammit, my signal dropped!" Do you think they're on to us? Discuss.

Most of the people in this house are the self-same folks that I play Scramble with on Facebook. We've adjusted, though, with a game that I like to call "Boggle." And has anyone else ever heard of "Tripoli?" It's a fantastic game that includes poker, a variation of Hearts, and Michigan rummy. A veritable trio (get it?) of games designed to pit my family against one another and guaranteed to make at least one person go to bed cross. We tried using vanilla cookies as poker chips but I kept eating them.

Speaking of overeating; I have been. However! I've found the answer to my dietary prayers in the form of an exercise system called "Core Rhythms." (I love infomercials.) We were TRANSFIXED by these dvds and watched the 'mercial for a good half an hour. Each five minute segment gave you the option to purchase the set FOR EVEN CHEAPER than before. With extra dvds thrown in! (Leaving the question unanswered- if I had purchased them when the informercial started, would I be paying full price for only five dvds as compared to half price for all eight? I worry about this stuff.) So, I did what any sane person would do; hopped on the back of the Yukon and downloaded the series on LimeWire. (Do you think the Feds read my blog?) I did the "quick" twenty minute one and enjoyed learning "hot latin moves" like the Running Man. (My favorite part of the testimonials was when a hefty gal swayed awkwardly from side to side with her hands in the air saying "I love all these great club moves!")

That said, when I was done I was covered in sweat and couldn't feel my midsection. Hear that? Sounds like fat-burnin'. Also, I had bumped my heel something fierce so that was burnin' too. Plus, this rash really is showing no signs of slowing down.

And this is me in peak health, folks. It's a good thing I'm at the seaside...all I need now is a plaid blanket and for my wicker wheelchair to be rolled down to the water's edge. It's good for one's constitution. And while we're down there, can someone lend me a couple bucks? I totally missed the ice cream man over at the public beach the other day and my innards are screaming for a nutty royale cone.

But I'm getting work done. For real.