I don’t know about yall but I’m about to go Beverly Hillbillies on the Fairmont’s ass. That is why you don’t put this shit on super sale and let the plebes in. I’m going to pull my barely running hunk o’ junk into valet and force them to unload my garbage bag of clothes and live chickens. I’m about to run through the halls naked and snoop through maid’s closets to find the good toiletries and then attempt to sneak into the penthouse suites and rub my naked body all over the bed that Bill Clinton sleeps in when he’s in town. What? That kind of power is attractive. Plus, the last time he was in town, he wasn’t terrible to behold? Maybe? 

Anyway, if you need me, I’ll be taking a bath in The Tonga Room pool. Rub a dub dub, motherfuckers!

Broke Ass Stuart has word about some ridiculous thing called heavy metal aerobics. I have news for Broke Ass Stuart, HEAVY METAL AEROBICS ALREADY EXISTS AND IT’S CALLED (jazz hands!) JAZZERCISE! (jazz hands!) and folks, it is the bomb.

JAZZERCISE! takes place in Noe Valley, where I used to live (SO SUE ME). I found out about it because I’d walk by on my way home from the El Farolito. You see, the hill from Church to Dolores is least steep at 22nd so even though I lived at 24th and Church, I would actually go two whole flat blocks out of my way to endure a less dramatic hill. I am your new hero.

Anyway, one day as I am walking home, I noticed the sweet sounds of a 92.7 KGAY (RIP) dance party coming from the elementary school at 22nd and Chattanooga. I decided to investigate and what I walked into was something I’ll never forget. A large group of sassy gay dudes, super fit 80 year-old ladies (you know the kind… from behind you’re like “oooh…hot 20-year-old” and then they turn around and you’re all “I’M NOT READY TO DIE!”), and an odd assortment of misfits doing their funky thing to the sweet sounds of Destiny’s Child. It was JAZZERCISE! and I had found My People.

I decided to join because HELLO IT’S MOTHERFUCKING JAZZERCISE! and it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. Pretty soon I was OBSESSED. I grapevined to the copy machine, I sashay into staff meetings, I SINGLE SINGLE DOUBLED TO THE WATER COOLER. Jazzercise might have to file a restraining order against me because I love it so much, I might kill it. For all of you who think that JAZZERCISE! is for 300 pound grandmas and quadriplegics, you are wrong. I challenge you to attend one JAZZERCISE! class and live to tell tale. If the class doesn’t kill you, I will. I hate to be made a liar. 

Classes are $12 but they offer all sorts of deals, like $44/month unlimited if you sign up for automatic deduction from your bank account and I do that because I never have any clue what’s happening with my bank account. You could basically steal my identity and become me and I might find out by accident in like ten years when I run into you and you’re me. 

Needless to say, I will be jazzercising my ass into a size 00. 78 pounds or BUST! I’ll know I have succeeded when you have to hook me up to an IV to feed me life sustaining liquid I’LL RIP IT OUT, I WILL. 

Uptown Almanac will be publishing an ongoing series called “MONDAY NIGHT MORE LIKE FUNDAY NIGHT” “MONDAY NIGHT MORE LIKE YOUR DOG IS FINE HOME ALONE FOR ONE NIGHT LEAVE THE FUCKING HOUSE PLEASE ALL YOUR ROOMMATES HATE YOU NIGHT” in which we explore different places that might be outside of your comfort zone but where you might also have hella fun. And by you, I mean me, because I always mean me when I say you. Also, I’ll focus on the amount of Weight Watchers Points that can be consumed and/or burned while there. You’re gonna love it, fatty. I’ll probably gank quite a few of the ideas from my yelp reviews because they’re taking those down hella fast and I need to save my memories, people. God knows my brain ain’t doing that for me. 

First up, MIGHTY!

Mighty is the perfect place to come the night before your Weight Watchers weigh in. Everyone else is out eating, boozing, sleeping. NOT ME. I’m over at Mighty burning through mad calories like it’s my JOB and bitch, I deserve a raise. You see, sometimes dancing isn’t for fun, it’s for work. Other fools are bobbing their heads, enjoying the music and I’m fucking doing squat kicks all up in their too-cool-for-Jazzercise business. And I don’t know much but I know this: You have not lived until you’ve done double time jumping jacks to drum and bass. I’m telling you, I’m DEAD tired come Friday night but a little voice inside of me says, “Push through the pain! You need this final workout before getting on that scale, Chubs McFat! NOW, DANCE! DANCE OR I’LL BREAK YOUR LEGS!!!”

So put on your sweat pants, grab your water bottle and head over to Mighty. And when you’re done there, find a heated indoor pool, cover your naked body in saran wrap and then do laps around the perimeter until you pass out. That saran wrap really gets the sweat going and water weight is still WEIGHT people. I say, GET IT OFF AND KEEP IT OFF. 

(thanks for the rad photo, LarimdaME!)