I discovered a note

I was synchronizing my Handspring, and I discovered a note I scribbled from the Derailer’s set, on Saturday night. Words to live by, “Have a good time all the time!” Another phrase, I still can’t shake, “Kramer, you’re like a car wreck, you know, I know I shouldn’t look, but I just have to.” [Poor impulse control?] Got this call, “[The Aquarius] said she’s signing us up for dance lessons. She was too chicken to call and tell you.” This shall be most amusing: as the designated default date for the Aquarius and the Pisces [except when they have any other offer], now I’m also the designated dancer? There’s going to be trouble on the dance floor. I can’t Cotton Eye Joe — it’s an observed fact. Absurd, too. I can push around in the Western Swing Mosh Pit okay, but let’s face some facts, often observed: I have no rhythm. And poor fashion sense. My country and western dancing is combination of two–step and dog–humping–your–leg thing. Capricorn e-mail, Capricorn for breakfast walk, Capricorn readings, more Cap e-mail. Another trend?