This morning I was driving to the yoga shala, and the radio was playing Sunglasses at Night. Boy in the Box was one of my favourite albums back in 1985, and so I turned it up and sang along. I pulled into a parking stall, still singing. You've gone to bed with a guy in shades, oh no. Then I turned off the car, went into the shala and did my practice. An hour and a half later I got back into the car, turned it on, and Sunglasses at Night was on the radio. Again. At the exact same part of the song as it was when I turned the car off. You've gone to bed with a guy in shades, oh no. I sat motionless for a moment, feeling like I was in some surreal universe. Where am I? Did I actually GO into the shala? Did I record Sunglasses at Night on a CD and not realize it? WHAT IS HAPPENING? It was, I should mention, the same radio station, which means that a hit from 1985 was played twice in less than a two hour period. Very strange beginning to the day.
Speaking of strange and also going to bed with a guy in shades, I heard George Michael's I Want Your Sex on the radio the other day. Feel free to make a comment about the nature of the radio stations I listen to at this time. Anyway, I clearly remember when I Want Your Sex came out and how terribly shocking it was at the time, back in the day before Eminem and Nate Dogg wanted a bitch with double-D's to fuck in the back of a Hummer truck, or Rihanna was looking for a guy to go downtown, or even when Nelly wanted someone to fuck him good AND suck him good. George Michael was scandalous back in 1987, but here's the thing: I find the expression I want your sex to be very strange indeed. You want my...sex? Is this something anyone has ever said in the history of time? I mean, until Bruno Mars recently intoned that your sex takes me to paradise. Bruno, do you mean having sex with you takes me to paradise? Because that would make a lot more sense.
You can tell that it's Friday, can't you? Suddenly things are getting X-rated around here. Unrelated to my strange thought processes spurred by hits from the mid-to-late eighties, it's International Women's Day! International Women's Day, and I just typed an entire paragraph about inappropriate song lyrics. Anyway, it turns out I'm going to be spending International Women's Day evening with a couple of my favourite girlfriends, who are coming over to taste test some new recipes. One of them is chocolate pudding made out of cauliflower. I know what you're thinking, but it is actually pretty good, and it's not just me saying that - Jake told me it was not bad, which I consider to be a win, given he was aware of the ingredients.
This is not to say my kids don't like vegetables; they do, just not cauliflower. Does anyone really like cauliflower? I like it roasted, but other than that, it is a pretty lame vegetable. It doesn't even have a pretty colour and YES, I realize I am focussing on appearances, but it doesn't taste great either. I like vegetables that are beautiful inside and out, if you know what I mean.
I had something lovely to say here about inner and outer beauty, but Patio Lanterns just came on the radio, which may be the worst song ever written, other than Might As Well Go For A Soda, and so now I have lost that train of thought. Patio Lanterns, for the love of god. Is there a worse song? Because right now even Macarthur Park seems awesome.
In any case, have a lovely International Women's Day, let's celebrate each other and how far we've come. xoxo