Somebody bring me to the opera so I stop writing posts this retarded

I need a new bed. My old bed, a clic-clac futon thing I've been using for years, is fucking up my life, or at least my back. I LOVE other people's beds, and I'm not unconvinced the crappiness of my bed hasn't been pushing me into inappropriate beds over the last little while. I sleep, when I sleep over, the way a gourmande gorges on Fazer chocolate. "Ahhhhhh. Lying on my back is nice. I do enjoy this lying on my back. Shall I be a beast? Shall I lie on my tummy? Lordy lou, I do think the tummy is even nicer than the back! Now I'll just help myself to a little turn and try my side . . . ahhhh!"

If I'd been clever, I would have used this free paycheque for a really nice new bed. But, you know. I'm not. Here's what I got instead:

1. Reefer
2. A keyboard
3. Boots
4. Alchohol
5. Make-up for my Halloween costume
6. Uhhhhhm . . . other stuff?

All of which is a way to say, I frittered it away, which is my favourite thing to do with money.

Side note about Halloween. My costume died halfway through the dressing process, I was going to be a re-colourized black and white film character but I couldn't find any green powder foundation - no idea why I thought I'd be able to. I ended up dressing like a Hispanic-y ho to match the lovely and talented Mr. N, who was Scarface. I wasn't the ho-iest ho of the night, but I was pretty tawdry by reasonable standards. And that night, for the first time, lawyers - multiple lawyers - hit on me. Makes me wonder if lawyers, you know. How they relax.

Besides a bed, I need music suggestions for a young relative, who does rhythmic - is it rhythmic? - fuck, those gymnastics on the floor, you know, with the great big mat where they do thier thing with the ribbons and hula-hoops and whatnot. Anyways, she needs music. Something with rhythm, even a beat; no or almost no vocals; and no fucking Gotan Project or other pseudo-tango, that's being done to death by all her little peers. Suggestions?