I'm driving along today listening to one of my new favorite stations, BPM (XM 81). It's all dance music, a long dormant need of mine, recently awakened. The new dance remix or cover or whatever it's called of Annie Lennox's Why comes on. It's by DJ Sammy in this iteration. It's some goodness. I loved that song then, loving it all over again. Her voice really is incredible, isn't it? So I'm flying along the interstate, weaving my way around, downshifting when there's no need cuz the stick just feels good in my hand, with a huge smile stretched ear to ear. Then the thumping sweetness fades into The Pussycat Dolls Don't Cha. That is a three minute pile of poo, isn't it? Buzz interrupted. The Dolls are like older, sluttier and less happy Spice Girls. The real Spice Girls are older, sluttier and less happy now, too, I suppose, but at least they have the courtesy of being that more or less out of the public eye. Oh well, I guess the highs wouldn't be highs if we didn't have poo with which to compare them.
PS There must be a prettier way to leave that last infinitive unsplit, yo.
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2 comments:
So you're a 'late adaptor' with dance music huh? Life is so much richer all of a sudden, isn't it.
I love to dance, but I got out of the habit in the past few years. My friend Bodhi and I have gone out dancing a few times recently, and it's like being bitten by the bug all over again.
I spent much of yesterday giving my little hobbit hole a good spring clean, with the music cranked. Good times.
Late adopter, yep. Back when I danced, it was mostly to college-y alternative things. I had only a brief flirtation with real dance music back in the fiance engagement days before marriage. My best friend's fiance' before he married her, that is. We danced our asses off all night while my friend sat at the bar watching hockey. Good times. I even let her get handsy.
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