Diet Diet Revolution

So during my freetime, I enjoy doing many things. One of the most cherished leisurely activities of mine is something called Dance Dance Revolution, which from hereafter and forevermore, I shall refer to as "DDR". DDR is an arcade-turned-PS2/XBox game which involves stepping on arrows (up, right, left, down), on a special mat, to the beat of a song. The songs and patterns of arrows range in difficulty from mindnumbingly easy to mindblowingly hard. The game takes incredible endurance, and is a high intensity workout no matter how you look at it. For more information on the above, consult the source of all catalogued useless human knowledge, the Wikipedia! My habit with this game has subsided recently, but over the last year, several months I averaged four to five hours of DDR'ing a week. I've reached something of a plateau at this point, unable to train my legs to do any more difficult of songs as I can right now. It's very sad. So what does this mean? Well, for being loyal and reading all the way down to this, the fourth paragraph, I'm gonna let you in on a business model that is worth millions. I share it with you, loyal read-to-fourth-paragraph readers, as I am tragically unable to pull it off in any successful form or fashion. Here we go: 1. Gain copious amounts of weight, uhhh, I guess eatting food. 2. Lose all weight through a thorough DDR regimen, oh and eatting better. 3. Write bestselling book about the experience called Diet Diet Revolution. So this seems very simple. In terms of difficulty, you'd assume that step one would be easy, step two a little less easy, and step 3 to be the pwnorizer, er, I mean the hardest. You'd be wrong! Step 1. has been the destroyer of dreams for me, as I am physically incapable of gaining weight. Somewhere between the fact that I have the metabolism of a three year old, and the appetite of... uhh... someone with a real small appetite, I am powerless to make fat appear on me. The wife and I can goto a restaurant, get ONE entree and one salad, split the food, and still not eat all of it. The sum total of this jibberish is: Eric is the same weight he was when he was a sophomore in high school (eight years ago!) - a massive 150 to 155 pounds. Long ago, however, I realized that the above facts (super metabolism, wussy appetite) have inspired ire/envy in some of my friends, as they find themselves in the opposite predicament that I am in. Fear not, for my time is coming. When my dad was growing up, his metabolism was the same as mine is now (no idea on his appetite.) Around the age of 28, it suddenly slowed down, and at that point he was required to workout to maintain a weight. 28 is not too far away for me. Anyway, feel free to maliciously and spitefully steal my golden business model from me. As for your funny link, oh you loyal read-to-the-eighth-paragraph-or-maybe-scanning-article-for-funny-link'ers, here's something called the Time Travel Fund. I would explain it, but they do a much better job. Besides, their business model is at least a hundred times better than mine.