"Do you like to dancy-dance? Yes, I wore

"Do you like to dancy-dance? Yes, I wore my party-pants!" I woke with a start as "German-Sparkle Party" music replayed over and over in my head. I'm going to kill her for showing

me that damn song, as much as it irks me, I can't get it out of my head. I groaned as I heaved myslef out of bed. Another day of summertime, and just a bit longer till senior year

and I can't get this song out of head. I can't get it stop. It's a terrible secret. It's just this little tune, this little phrase, it goes like this, "Activiaaaaa." My senior

patients at the hospital sing it all the time. Jamie Lee Curtis has brainwashed them, even the men. The Activia shoots through their system like a Dannon cannon, but their appetite

is a whole different matter. Not that it would have made any difference: there's no more food at the hospital since the arrival of the

A hair metal band started to play. The music seemed familiar. But this band was so obscure that nobody had heard of them. The club was packed on a Saturday night.

That also was strange. I liked to have my club with me on Saturday night just in case the evening surprised me with a game of golf. She couldn't explain why she packed it away.

"I guess I was just hungry," she offered lamely. "Great heavens, woman!" I sputtered, "Who eats a perfectly good gold club?" "I was iron deficient," she said, her eyes filled with

small spanners that tumbled theatrically down her cheeks, "I just can't stay on top of my vitamin intake," This was absolutely ludicrous, I grabbed my golf balls and vanished.