I don't do anything that involves a risk of falling down. (I was thinking of this recently while watching a bunch of kids in a potato sack race, falling down, laughing, getting up again. If I tried that, I'd be in pain for weeks.)

Dancing. The last time I tried it, I limped for a week. (Fallen arches.)

Flirting. For one thing, I'm happily married. For another thing, I finally figured out that when a slender 19-year-old girl wears hip-hugger jeans that show some butt cleavage, she may be trying to attract SOMEONE'S attention, but it sure as hell ain't mine.

"Closing" a bar, as we say in Minnesota. That means staying in a bar and drinking until closing time, which is 1 a.m. It's been a long time since I've heard that old refrain, "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."