Subway Serenade

The Hula-gen's like to use public transportation when we travel.  We've found that the easiest way to get around a new town is to get around the way the locals do.  One of our proudest accomplishments when we were in Europe was mastering the Tube in London and the Metro in Paris.  Teen Angel and I wore those subway systems OUT.  And one of the more fun things about the subway, for us anyway, was the live entertainment in the train cars and subway tunnels.  We have some of that in the US but nothing like they do across the pond.  In Paris, it seems that any yahoo with a portable microphone can hop aboard a train and serenade you with his talents.  Or lack thereof.  These guys were especially funny because they had the loudest tuba evah and were playing polka.  All day.  We passed them several times that day, and every time they were playing what sounded like the same polka song.

Forgive the bad picture, we were moving fast in our effort to squeeze in yet another museum on our last day in town when I took this. 

Teen Angel and I got a lot of laughs out of the reactions of the locals who obviously get much more tired of the least talented performers than the tourists do. For us it was an adventure.  I would imagine it gets old when you hear it every day.  That's pretty much what one very expressive French lady indicated with her eye rolls.

In London, it seemed a little more controlled.  They're so dignified there, you know.  There was subway entertainment, but they were kept in particular areas of the tunnels and out of the train cars.

They were usually really good, too.  While I don't know for sure, I'm betting you have to audition in order to perform there.

I just think the subway is a fascinating place to share and experience art, which is why I like this video so much.  I love a good flash mob, and this one is great.  If only someone would serenade me like this on my way to work every morning.  I'd smile all day long.

What Time is It?!

Holy 1984, Batman! It's a contender for the first song on my half marathon iPod playlist. It contains one of the best lyrics ever, "This dance ain't for everyone, just the sexy people."



Oh, and why does Blogger hate Youtube? Did they break up and no one told me? It also doesn't what me to use paragraphs anymore. Somewhere out there, my senior grammar teacher is wincing.

Sing it, Gladys!

To the woman who busted me in traffic this morning while I was belting out, "You're the BEST thing that ever happened to ME!!" I'd apologize but frankly, I WAS Gladys Knight this morning. And Dave Matthews. And Quiet Riot.

On Hula's iPod This Week

My iPod is a big ol' mess. It has everything from metal to blues to old gospel recordings by Elvis. I put it on shuffle each day on my way to and from work, and I never know what's going to pop up. Sometimes The Rolling Stones follow CeCe Wynans. Amy Winehouse sits next to ABBA, and once in a while, Jerry Lee Lewis gets a little Middle Aged Crazy on there. It's a real potpurri of stuff, and I like it all, fairly loud.

My favorite artist to shuffle up so far this week is Maura O'Connell, an Irish folk singer based in Nashville, who puts a bluesy contemporary twist on folk. I first discovered her by stumbling onto one of her CD's in Sissy's stuff that we sorted through after Sissy's death. I love Maura. And let's just say that if we sang this kind of music at church, I'd never be still on Sunday mornin's.

Guilty Pleasures

Somehow I’ve managed to avoid getting hooked on any of the “Housewives of” series on the Bravo network. I know just enough about them to be appalled that Snookie and the gang were recently allowed to ring the bell at the Stock Market Exchange and that the Housewives of DC stirred up controversy before the season even started, thanks to White House gate crasher Michaele Salahi’s participation on the show. I was amused at the story the other day about Michaele’s little faux smackdown with Whoopi Goldberg on The View. What was girlfriend thinking, picking a fight with Whoopi? Whoopi is old school. She’ll whoop your arse first and ask questions later. She’s got street cred, and you don’t go messin’ around with someone who had to fight her way out of poverty. Duh.

Anyhoo, the series is likely to garner plenty of watchers since it’s like a romp through a Jackie Collins’ book, and who doesn’t enjoy that kind of trashy entertainment every now and then? I’m just basing that on the fact that those books are always checked out at my local library. So I’m told.

While I’ll admit to being curious about this season because of the DC setting, I refuse to get lured into that hot mess. I’m not judgin’ those who do though. We all have our little guilty pleasures. Oh, we can cite a long list of literary icons as our favorite authors or gloat about our contributions to public television, but the fact is we all have some skeletons in our entertainment closets. In the interest of keepin’ it real, I thought I’d share a few of mine with you. And if you ask me about these in public, I’ll swear I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.

1. Lady Gaga-I LOVE Lady Gaga. She’s outrageous. She’s bold, and she knows how to make a radio hit. The Cher’s and Cyndi Lauper’s paved the way for her, but she’s taken fashion and pop to a level that makes Madonna seem a little tame. We used to think Madonna’s silk cone bra was outrageous until Lady G. set her boobs on fire. And then her hoo hoo. I tried and tried to get me and Teen Angel tickets to her St. Louis concert this summer, but I got started too late and could never score any. I was bummed ‘cause what a spectacle that would have been. And it was on my birthday weekend. I may be 46 years old (forget I just gave you that number), but I love her music and her drama.

2. ABBA-Hubby bought the Best of ABBA CD at Wal-Mart recently, and when I saw it in his hands, I fell in love with him all over again. Seriously, our eyes locked and we had this, “You mean, you like them, too?” moment that was as good as renewing our wedding vows. All these years, we never knew how much we each loved the singing Swedes. We stuck the CD in the player as soon as we got into the van, and sang Dancin’ Queen together at the top of our lungs. Well, I sang at the top of my lungs. He hummed. He loves Fernando, hates to watch organized sports on TV and knows how to pick a diamond. God, I’m a lucky woman.

3. Dr. Drew’s Celebrity Rehab-I’m addicted to Celebrity Rehab. Pun intended. It’s like driving past a bad car wreck. You don’t want to look, but you can’t help looking. Maybe it’s because I’ve dealt with addiction in a loved one and been there for the interventions, the rehab, the relapse and all of the hurt and craziness that goes with it. I just love watching that show. (And A & E’s Intervention, which I think is very well produced for a reality show.)

I never missed an episode of Season 3 of Celebrity Rehab. I folded many a towel and pair of drawers on Saturday morning while watching that show. I cried with Mackenzie Phillips when she had to put her dog to sleep, and I followed all of the celebs into the next season’s Sober House. I laughed at their fights and shook my head at Heidi Fleiss every weekend. I just love Dr. Drew and find it ironic that they announced the cast of Season 4 on my birthday. I can’t wait to see if he finally gets Leif Garrett straight. Bonus Skeleton Reveal: I think Dr. Drew is a little hot in a weird, clinical kind of way. I know, I know.

4. Saturday Night Fever-“Watch the hair!” I love it when Tony says that. It’s a goofy, dated movie but it came along as I came of age, and it brings back fond memories of satin pants, Candy’s shoes and Bee Gees’s music. Sigh, I miss the 70’s.

5. Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory-I know the songs. I know the lines. And I will watch the entire dadgum thing when I happen across it while flipping the remote. And now that I’ve typed this I’ll be playing the Oompa Loompa song in my head for the rest of the night. Do not laugh, ‘cause I know you’re singin’ it now, too. You can’t help yourself.

6. The Rocky Horror Picture Show-I know the songs. I know the lines. I can do the Time warp. I have the extended version of the Time Warp and the rest of the soundtrack on my iPod, and we shall not talk about how high those songs rank on my playlists. This movie was huge when I was in college, and I dressed up and performed the part of Magenta many times in various cities when I was younger. It always brings back memories of a good friend of mine who played the part of Frank-n-furter to the hilt. A group of rednecks beat him up one night behind the theater because he was gay and wearing fishnet stockings, and it was my introduction to homophobia. I’ve never forgotten that. He died of AIDS at the height of the epidemic, and I often think of him when I watch that movie. Always with a smile though. Somewhere out there are some pictures of me, him and our friend V. in full costume, puttin’ our hands on our hips and knees in tight. And I’m thankful we never had Facebook back then ‘cause any hopes of a successful senate confirmation hearing for me would be doomed by those pictures alone.

Speaking of senate confirmation hearings, I’ll bet Elana Kagan knows who Michaele Salahi and the other Housewives of DC are. She may not admit it, but I’ll bet she does.

Giggle of the Day

On the morning commute I had my iPod on "Top 25 Songs". I never use that setting. Apparently, number 4 in my iPod library of most listened to songs is the Reverend James Cleveland's Get Right Church. Number 5? Joan Jett's Do You Want To Touch Me. I giggled so hard the guy in the big beer truck next to me at the stoplight looked at me like I was crazy.

Breaking News

Our top story tonight? I’m glad this week is winding to a close. It’s been a hectic one, but good. We will wrap up bible school tonight and tear down everything, but I think we can safely call it a rousing success. A few observations:
-Parents, you have no secrets. You have no idea what your children share with their teachers when you’re not around, and you really don’t want to know how much we know about you or what we know about you. It’s best not to ask.
-This Little Light of Mine is the best church song ever. Why do we quit singing it when we become adults? It’s got a good beat, and it’s easy to dance to. I like the jazzy version we’ve been singing all week, but I LOVE Bruce Springsteen’s version that I downloaded from iTunes this week.
-We’ve managed to make it through this week with no major casualties. However, we have had an issue with people sticking pipe cleaners, fingers and other items in their eyes. Every night-an eye injury. What’s up with that?
-We are adding that magic puke dust to the budget next year. It’s that stuff you sprinkle on vomit that absorbs it so you can clean it up easily. It may be $40 for a small container, but in my opinion, it’s worth every penny.
-On that same note, vigorous games right after snack time are risky.
-The other item to add to our list? Bug spray. I sat down in the grass Monday night to take a few pictures of the kids. In the ten minutes I was sitting there, 16,981 bugs invaded my shorts and my shirt, apparently, in search of my underwear. I am the proud recipient of twenty something chigger bites, some of which are in places I can’t mention. Benadryl Anti-Itch is my new best friend, and if you happen to catch me scratching my backside, please let it pass.

In other news around the world:
-Special Delivery is now walking. Ha! His parents will never rest again. We have the cutest picture of him in Teen Angel’s phone. If I were smart enough to get that picture out of there, I’d show it to you.
-Papa T. has a machine from the Bureau of the Blind that plays books on tape. He uses it all day long and gets a little antsy when he can’t use it. Well, his old one broke, and the new one came in the mail yesterday. Hubby couldn’t get it to work either. He resigned himself to returning it, but Papa T. insisted that I come over after bible school last night to look at it. He believes that my seventeen years of working in radio and television makes me capable of fixing any electronic device. I had my doubts but was surprised to find that I fixed it. Turns out, Hubby had forgotten to plug it in. I would have looked like a genius if it hadn’t taken me about fifteen minutes to figure that out.

Well, that’s all the news for this evening. Join us back here tomorrow when we take a look at the latest economic figures and how they’re affecting our grocery bill, and we check the weather forecast to see if Hula gets to get in the pool. In the meantime, have a good evening and watch out for those bugs.

Oh Emmy, Where Have You Been All My Life?

I snubbed my teenaged nose at your music when I first heard you years ago. My rock and roll arrogance deafened my ears to your brilliance for thirty, count ‘em, thirty years. I mocked your prematurely gray hair and called you backwards. Oh Emmy, I was wrong, so so wrong. You’re not a hillbilly. You’re not whiney. You’re something indefinable. Something unique. Your voice speaks to my soul. Your poetic lyrics on songs like Michelangelo are genius, and I love that you refuse to dye your hair or change your style for commercial radio.

Now that I’ve stumbled upon you again, I can’t get enough of you, Red Dirt Girl. I can’t believe I was so wrong before. Surely, it's not because I'm beginning to love country music? Forgive me Emmy; I know not what I do sometimes. I have seen the error of my ways, and I’m here to share my newfound love with the world. And I’m not letting my inability to post a video or copyright laws get in my way.

Go here, my friends and enjoy the love that is Emmy Lou Harris. And great Gertie, why didn’t someone tell me Emmy Lou and Dave Matthews did a concert together on CMT? ‘Cause I definitely would have shown up for class on that day.

The Song in my Head

GO IN PEACE

By Hula Girl for Sissy

We don’t know the heart of another
Or the bruises that lay on their soul.
But our love keeps us hanging on
Long after they’re ready to let go.

It’s too late to tell you I love you.
But I think you already know.
So I’ll dance this dance without you
And learn the steps of letting go.

Chorus
Go, go now in peace.
Search for the sun.
Reach for that rainbow you’re looking for.
Embrace the light.
Your long fight is done.
Open the door and go,
Go now in peace.

What were you thinking as you walked away?
Was the weight of the world just too much?
Or did you reach for something I can’t see?
The tenderness of the Father’s touch?

There’s a hole in my heart that bears your name
It may heal but it won’t go away.
It will always be there to remind me
Of the sister who just couldn’t stay.

Chorus
Go, go now in peace.
Search for the sun.
Reach for that rainbow you’re looking for.
Embrace the light.
Your long fight is done.
Open the door and go,
Go now in peace.

Repeat chorus

Things That Make Me Feel Old

Stumbling across this kind of thing on the internet. The B-52's today.Sigh. Time marches on. Why, I remember the good old days, the Private Idaho days, circa 1979. Freshman year. Dancin' to the original Love Shack late into the night during pom pom squad camp. And doing the Rock Lobster. Oh, the Rock Lobster. Ordering pizza past curfew and talking about boys until 2am. Somewhere tucked away in a box is my pink punk sunglasses and my new wave polka dot dress with the big heart shaped belt. Sigh. Has it really been that long? Say it ain't so, Fred.

Name That Tune

My soul sister Debbie, who resides in that exotic part of the world I like to call Japan, posted a meme the other day featuring her iPod, and I thought it was a hoot, so I tried it. It was more fun than a barrel of monkeys. It essentially works like this:

Instructions:
1. Open your music library (iTunes, winamp, media player, iPod, whatever)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question below, type the song that’s playing
5. New question — press the next button
6. Don’t lie and try to pretend you’re cool

Some of my songs seemed to fit perfectly, and my responses are below, but first I feel compelled to talk about the iPod. Do you mind? Of course not. That’s what I love about you dear readers, you politely listen while I ramble at length about nothing in particular, and you come back the next day for more. You do come back, don’t you? Hello? Anyone home? Whew. For a moment I thought I had lost you.

I love my iPod. Really, I do. The Pod and I have a great relationship. My iPod not a big fancy one like Teen Angel’s. Mine’s just a Nano, but I carry it around as much as Teen Angel carries hers. It goes everywhere with me, all 826 songs. (It will hold 1000.) I can have a large portion of my music collection at my fingertips at all times. I use it in the car instead of the radio. I wear it while I’m running, and I play it in the docking station on my desk at work. I have to resist the urge to turn down the docking station, though. It’s not really professional to blast D*** I Wish I Was Your Lover or Push It throughout the administration wing. I love that I can create playlists that are tailored to my runs. David Crowder’s version of I Saw The Light ALWAYS makes me go faster. I can customize the music for my aerobics class, and keep Christmas music in there so I can pull up Wynona’s version of Mary Did You Know in the middle of August. I think one of the reasons I like it best is that it puts great memories at my fingertips. If I’m feeling nostalgic I can spin the wheel, pull up a little Rod Stewart and suddenly I’m in eighth grade dishing with my best buddy E. all over again. I can play Eric Clapton’s Cocaine and be reminded of senior prom..circa 1982. Happy Together by the Turtles takes me back to cruising with friends around town, and Vangelis’ version of Hymne has me walking down the aisle to my groom again just like in 1990. That little black gizmo has the power to make me laugh, make me cry and make me smile, all in one playlist. It’s a hormonal woman’s dream.

My iPod has an eclectic mix of songs, hence some of the answers below. I love all kinds of music which is why inside my iPod Amy Grant resides next to Amy Winehouse. Iggy Pop’s Real Wild Child is next to the theme from The Color Purple, and the Reverend James Cleveland’s Get Right Church (also good to run to) sits beside Rick James’ Super Freak. Sorry, Reverend James, but my preacher says you gotta go where the sinners are to reach them. Not that I’m trying to justify some of the nasty songs on my little jukebox or anything. My playlists run the gamut from Running #1, #2 and #3 to Slow Favorites, Treadmill #1,#2,#3,#4, Favorite Oldies and Sizzling Hits. What’s on Sizzling Hits, you ask? Hmm, you’re a nosey bunch today, aren’t you? It includes Let’s Get It On, Do You Want to Touch Me and You Shook me All Night Long among others. Hey, you asked.

I wasn’t much of a shuffle song girl until recently. Since I’m a bit of a control freak I tend to rely on the playlists and specific song selections. However, lately I’ve started to walk on the wild side and choose the shuffle option more. I’ve grown to appreciate the shuffle feature, especially when I run because each song is a surprise, like when I listen to the radio, only better, because I like ALL of these songs and there are no commercials. They say you can tell a lot about a person by what he puts in his grocery cart. You can probably say the same about the songs in a person’s music collection. Woe is the person who tries to discern my personality based solely on my iPod. He’s likely to wonder what hippie drinks margaritas and praises Jesus while dancing the Time Warp to Christmas music in a grass skirt. Well, as Popeye says, “I yam what I yam, and that’s all that I yam”. Now on with the show.

Opening credits: Do You Hear What I Hear, Whitney Houston
First day at school: Boat Drinks, Jimmy Buffett
Falling in love: When the Heartache Ends-Rob Thomas.
Breaking up: Lord, I Lift Your Name on High-Sonic Flood. Who hasn’t prayed over a break up?
Prom: Margaritaville-Jimmy Buffett
Life’s Okay: Tube Snake Boogie-ZZ Top. Woops! How did that get in there?
Mental breakdown: Paint it Black-Rolling Stones. How appropriate!
Driving: Old Hippie-Bellamy Brothers
Flashback: Free Bird-Lynyrd Skynyrd
Getting back together: The Sunshine of Love-Louis Armstrong
Wedding: 3am-Matchbox Twenty
Divorce: Missing You-Rod Stewart
Current Mood: Hot Patootie Bless my Soul-Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack
Final battle: How Far We’ve Come-Matchbox Twenty
Death scene: Long Day-Matchbox Twenty
End credits: Peace of Mind-Neil Young

Seasons in the Sun

Sometimes…no, make that often…when I look at Teen Angel it’s like looking in a mirror. She acts so much like me it’s scary. The way she puts that hand on her hip and barges ahead with her opinions, refusing to believe she’s wrong has “me” written all over it. It gives me a really good idea of how I appear to others and how I behaved when I was her age. Almost on a daily basis I have a “conversation” with my daughter and then am inclined to run to the phone and apologize to my mother for my teenage years. Lordy, I must have been a pain in her backside. Why she didn’t duct tape my mouth and drop me off at the nearest bus station is beyond me. The woman is a saint. I can only hope to handle Teen Angel half as well. Watching my daughter navigate these difficult years reminds me of all the turbulent, emotional trials of being a teenager, but it also reminds me of the fun stuff, too.

This week she was questioning my latest iTunes purchases, Blue October’s 18th Floor Balcony and Barry White’s I Just Want to Make Love to You. “Those don’t have anything in common”, she said. “Sure they do.” “No, they DON’T”, she insisted and proceeded to explain why. I was surprised at her understanding of the wistful Blue October song and instantly reminded of how much music means to young people, especially girls. As I stepped into the shower I couldn’t help but think about how much I loved pop music and the radio back in the mid-70’s when I was just starting to mature.

My crush on the radio started near the end of fifth grade. I looked like this.


The weather was kind of like it is now; cool in the mornings, warm and sunny in the afternoons. We bravely wore shorts to the bus stop, topped off by long sleeve jackets. My jacket was yellow with black trim. Super Cop later wore it. Our days were filled with math, reading, kickball and milk breaks. The summer of 1975 was just around the corner, and my friend Kandi got a new transistor radio. She was three years older than me, and her reading on the cool meter was always higher than mine. She had a 10 speed bike. I had a one speed. She had long blonde hair. Mine was brown. She had a white radio that was a ball on a long silver chain. I had none. I loved that radio. We dragged it all over her yard, and I wanted one so badly. By the time we were paroled from Franklin Elementary for the summer, I had gotten a radio. It was plain and black, not cool and round, but a radio nonetheless. I carried it everywhere.

It sat at the head of my bed when I was reading or supposed to be asleep. It hung from the handlebars of my bicycle while I pedaled around country roads. It sat on a blanket while I lathered myself in baby oil, Coppertone and QT and unsuccessfully sunned myself in the backyard. I dragged it with me when we went places in the car, holding it up to my ear and barking at Super Cop and Handy Man to shut up while we fought over our boundaries in the backseat. I went through nine volt batteries like poop through a goose. That radio was on ALL the time.

Back then, AM was king. FM was an experiment that most folks believed would fail. The AM stations with the grooviest DJ’s ruled the airwaves. My favorite radio station blasted tunes from Cat Stevens, Elton John, Neil Sadaka, Barry Manilow and Captain and Tennille. My favorites were ELO, Olivia Newton John and Leo Sayer. Helen Reddy sang about Angie Baby, and Terry Jacks crooned about Seasons in the Sun. I sang along as if I could sing. My hairbrush was my microphone and the whole world was my stage. I remember knowing every word to every song, feeling the pain of every singer and knowing exactly where every song stood on the charts at any given time. In between commercials for car dealers and the half hour tones to roll over if you were tanning, the songs serenaded me through that summer and several summers to follow. A couple of years later I got mad at my mom because she wouldn’t take me to a nearby park to hear Dr. Hook in concert. Listening to their drug laced songs now (I have the “Best of Dr. Hook in my CD collection) I understand why she said no. I held a grudge against her for about two years over that, though.

I have a real fondness for songs of the 70’s because they are the songs of my young summers. The tunes that filled my days along with mowing the yard, watching reruns of the Partridge Family and secretly hoping to marry Keith Partridge. I know why Teen Angel knows all about 18th Floor Balcony and the 2000 other songs that fill her iPod. Music feeds the soul at that age, and her iPod is her transistor radio. It’s almost as cool as the white ball on a chain…almost.

Wedding Songs

I’ve been putting together some music play lists and CD’s for Super Cop’s wedding reception this weekend. Once again, he has foolishly trusted his big sister to do the right thing. When will he ever learn? Actually, I’ve been on my best behavior and have put together a collection of appropriate material, ranging from his and his finance’s old favorites to romantic standards by Dean Martin and Louie Armstrong. I think it’s a rather nice mix of stuff that should be appropriate for the occasion. I wouldn’t want to do anything to tarnish the day. It doesn’t mean I haven’t been tempted to have a little fun, though. Really tempted…sorely tempted….just to throw in a song or two with a funny title that might cause a few guests to snort Starlight Punch through their noses in the middle of the reception.

Maybe it’s just my immaturity rearing its gnarly head because I think it would be really funny if something like Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get it On popped up in the play list. Or maybe a little Talk Dirty to Me by Poison. It would be awfully funny to see Aunt B.’s face when that one came on. Since I love my little brother AND I want to stay in this family, I will resist the urge. However, as someone who’s been married for eighteen years, I thought I would put together a separate CD to represent those years of marriage yet to come. Those years when the romance has worn off and you’ve spent time in the trenches battling bills, children and each other and are still hanging on. Ladies and gentleman, I give you:
Marriage-The Ultimate Collection.

1. Bills, Bills, Bills-blues favorite by Koko Taylor. For that never ending cycle of debt that increases exponentially with each year of marriage and the birth of each child.
2. Love is a Battlefield-Pat Benatar. Years 1, 2, 7 and 11 for most folks.
3. A Little Less Conversation & A Lot More Action-Elvis. What you long for after about the twelfth year.
4. Flirtin’ With Disaster-Molly Hatchet. When she reaches for the remote or he dares to truthfully answer the question “Does this make my butt look big?”
5. Chains-Patty Lovelace. Days when you wish you were the recreation director on a cruise ship instead of a spouse and parent.
6. Delirious-Prince. How you feel after spending the whole night wiping up vomit, washing sheets and praying for the diarrhea to stop.
7. It’s All Over Now-Rolling Stones. When you come home to find a new boat sitting in the driveway.
8. You Can’t Always Get What You Want-Rolling Stones. When the boat goes right back to the dealer.
9. Heaven Help Us All-Stevie Wonder. Your teenager gets his driver’s license.
10. Trouble-Pink. Your daughter starts to date.
11. Still Crazy After All These Years-Paul Simon. Your in-laws after about the fifteenth year.
12. Mad Season-Matchbox Twenty. Menopause.
13. Get this Party Started-Pink. The kids all move out.
14. Looks Like We Made It-Barry Manilow. Retirement.
15. I’m Gonna Love You Just A Little Bit More-Barry White. How to get through cuts 1-14.

Order your copy here. You won’t find this CD in any store. Act now and I’ll throw in a free “How to Stay Married for Fifty Years Kit” which includes a cattle prod, some rose colored glasses, a few Viagra tablets and a cheap bottle of wine. My darling brother gets a free copy of this and the music we’re playing at the reception…minus the Marvin Gaye and Poison.

Guilty as Accused

I made fun of a man I know the other day for buying a Richard Marx CD. Chick music, I laughed. Then he pointed out the Bob Marley CD I had in my case, which he was holding at the moment. Hmm. Okay, so my music tastes are kind of eclectic, too. In fact, anyone who looked at my iPod and tried to size me up based on my music selections would be downright confused. I have everything from gospel to heavy metal. Amy Grant sits right next to Amy Winehouse in my Nano. How’s that for juxtaposition? In all fairness to this man (Ha! Richard Marx??) I thought I should fess up to a few of my guilty pleasures. These little treasures reside in my collection, and you are allowed to laugh at them.

1. The Best of Disco-What do you expect? I’m a child of the 70’s. Besides, who doesn’t like Donna Summer?
2. Aldo Nova/Fantasy-He melted my butter all the way through the early 80’s, serenading me every time I had a broken heart, which was often.
3. The Best of Poison- Lord forgive me for I know not what I do.
4. Barry White’s Greatest Hits-Don’t go there.
5. Disco Kings-Sorry. I’m a repeat offender.
6. Essential Eddie Money-“Shakin” was me and M.’s song. That’s all I’m tellin’. This is a family friendly website.
7. Joan Jett and the Blackhearts-Because I love rock n’ roll.
8. K.C. and the Sunshine Band/Just the Hits-Because I like to shake, shake, shake my booty.
9. Meat Loaf/Bat Out of Hell 1 & 2-#1 is a classic. I can’t explain #2. Must have been a sale at the BMG music club.
10. Rick James/Superfreak-It brings back memories of the skating rink. So does “Double Dutch Bus”, but I can’t find it. I wonder why?

Anyhoo, I could go on and on. That’s enough shame for one day. If you care to share your favorite guilty pleasures, so right ahead. If not, well, we all know you’re hiding something.