If my neighbors ever look into my windows, here’s what they probably observe:
- Subject spends a lot of time admiring himself in mirror. Ill-spent or at least ill-advised time.
- Despite attempts at “feeling it,” has no discernible rhythm.
- Sings excessively. Either to self or to indifferent cat.
- Loves “Naked Night.” Not a real celebration. Not a party if alone.
- In love with own semi-emergent triceps.
- Not as good a singer as subject believes himself to be. Needs more “Jesse’s Girl” and a cappella backup.
- Slaps belly repeatedly. Possibly an attempted mating ritual. Perplexed by solitary status.