Ennio Morricone. Sergio Leone's movies are good, but they'd be ordinary as cotton underwear without the music of Ennio Morricone. Drawing a red line from Italy to Spain to Mexico on a flaming parchment map, the sound is beyond theatrical—it's operatic. When that chanting chorus kicks in to accompany the weeping strings and wa-waing trumpet aria, you'll know what I'm talking about. Desperate times may call for desperate measures, but desperate measures call for Ennio Morricone.
Taking stairs two at a time. First of all, it saves time, and while your time may not be all that important to you, do you really want to spend more of it than you have to climbing stairs? Second, it gives you the illusion that you are actually doing work. Feel that in your thighs? That's all muscle, baby. That's what it takes to move your corpulent haunches up to the next floor. If you opt to hit each and every stair (or, worse, each stair with both feet), step aside, because I'm about to blow past you.
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Image credits: (1) "IMG_4840," hexod.us, courtesy Flickr, acquired via Creative Commons license; (2) "A Fistful of Film Music: The Ennio Morricone Anthology," courtesy Amazon, borrowed for news-reporting and comment purposes; (3) "steps," hkvam, courtesy Flickr, borrowed for news-reporting and comment purposes.