One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Sometimes, I really do not want to work out. Every step I take in my 30-minute run is painful -- it's like taking out the trash when you're perfectly comfortable naked -- so I've heard. It's not that it is hard to do, but gosh -- do I really have to put on pants?

The commercials do not help either. By the way, quick tangent. Has anyone seen this head-on commercial. Apparently, they pay big money to CNN, because it comes on every 15 minutes, and it drives me insane. I bet the business school graduates are laughing to themselves in heaps of cash because of their "genius." And you know what? They deserve it, because I can't get that commercial out of my forehead -- I mean, my head.

Back to working out, commercials do not help. Radio commercials are possibly the worse. Not to mention horrible pop songs -- from Paris Hilton to Jessica Simpson, Kelly Clarkson feels like a breath of fresh smog compared to them.

But then, the greatest moment encapsulated in the greatest tune came alive -- and I came alive with it.

Ladies and gentleman, THIS IS MAMBO #5!

Yes!!! I woke up like a madman on the treadmill and began dancing wildly, making exaggerated foot motions and twisting my hips in mid air before placing one foot in front of the other. My arms swung emphatically in the air to the beats of the trumpet, getting ready to recite Monica, Erica, Rita, Tina, Sandra, Martha, and Jessica. Crap! It was Mary, not Martha...oh Mary. I always forget Mary.

I think it's for little eruptions like this that make people watching at the gym the closest thing to great entertainment ever since David Hasselhoff left America for Germany.