Pimples, Puerto Ricans, and the Lives of Dance Instructors.

Last night when I was doing a testicular self-examination -- once a month is recommended; this guy I know who's not that much older than me actually got testicular cancer and they had to go in and remove one of his testicles, they actually don't cut the scrotum because it doesn't heal fast and often gets infected because of the bunched-up skin, instead they make an incision somewhere above and go down in and scoop the testicle out -- I noticed a big, ugly-looking pimple above my left nut. I was disturbed, but they I realized it was above a follicle base, and that it was probably an in-grown hair. I pinched around the pimple and then with my nails was able to draw out a hair almost a 1/8"-long that had grown into my nutsack.

One of the things that surprised me about the Puerto Rican neighborhood was how many stores were advertising "Cerveza fria". Honestly, leave it to Puerto Ricans to figure out how to fry beer. It seems like all they do is sit around and collect welfare all day, but tell them to think up a new way to fry something, and they're all over that like stink on shit. Misplaced initiative much?

Dance lessons last night were interesting. I got to thinking that I'd love to be invisible and track the life of a dance instructor for a week. It's crazy, that what they do is just show up, teach people to samba for an hour or two, and then go home. My one tense-looking female instructor doesn't even do much public instructing, though she occasionally does go around and help people when she's not standing around and looking tense, because her job when her and the male instructor are demonstrating is just to stand there and follow his lead. So, she just shows up, follows for an hour or two, and then goes home, likely to stand around in the kitchen and smoke and have a drink or two and stare out the window and think about life, like she probably does before she comes in to give the lessons, often. I think it would be easy to become an alcoholic if you were a dance instructor -- you would slide into it so easily, since all you would do is teach people to dance and then you'd have all this time to fill with tv and booze and your thoughts. Honestly, what are their days like? I really want to know.