7:37 p.m. - 03.16.2003
Don't Dream It's Over
I have an ugly secret.
Whenever I hear some 80s music - I turn into a 13 year old girl. Which, after my last entry, is a disturbing thing for me to confess in light of my dwindling male-libido. But I can't help it. I'll give you some examples:
If I'm driving around, and Soft Cell's Tainted Love comes on - I start squealing with delight like a twelve yr old. Let alone if it ends up being the extended 'Where Did Our Love Go' mix - forget it. It's useless talking to me. Imagine - and I'm even an old skirt-chasing frat-daddy. It takes all kinds...
In bars though, I'm just like every other guy. When 'It Takes Two' by Rob Bass hits the speakers, I find myself standing around and shadow rapping the lyrics in large groups of one. Shadow rapping is the whiteman's hip-hop answer for air guitar. "You don't like it/So what/I don't care..."
Even though it's not technically 80s, I'm the biggest offender when the "Proclaimers - I'm gonna be (500 Miles)" comes on. Now that's my jam! I don my thickest Scottish brogue and sing both parts at the top of my lungs. By the end of the song though, I'm a tad hoarse. Lordy bob, if I actually found someone who can sing the duet with me, proper, brogue and all - goodtimes will be had.
The trick is to have a little attitude. You latch your thumbs in your front belt loops, get the toes a-tappin' and get the head a-bobbin'. It's a good song to play air tambourine to. It's a lost art really, the air tamb. Sometimes I'll change it up and keep the tempo with some hand slaps to the back of the thigh. Dead sexy. Few know it, but that move is called Sassy Pants. Never be ashamed to call someone Sassy Pants.
If I have to move quickly through a big crowd, say from Gate 3 to 176 at Chicago's O'Hare airport, I like to kick it with a little 'Eye of the Tiger' in my head. People KNOW when you're kickin' Eye of the Tiger in your head - they seem to part like the Red Sea naturally. Or maybe it's just my wicked Survivor-strut and they move away from the guy having the insulin reaction.
I've got some slow jams as well. You know the movie Amelie? When she melts into a pool of water? Yeah, that's me at those first opening chords of 'Take My Breath Away' by Berlin.
Or Foreigner's 'I Wanna Know What Love Is'. The key to enjoying this song is to sing with two clenched fists under your chin, and then sing eyes closed and face to the gods - so that the veins in your neck come close to popping. They call it, "with feeling."
It's not 80s either, but speaking of singing both parts to the Proclaimers, strangley, I only do Art's part when I hear Simon and Garfunkel. I have a killer falsetto. That's why I can rock it with the a-Ha as well.
Look out though if some Big Hair band's song comes on. Like 'Panama' or 'Once Bitten, Twice Shy'. Few know it, but I can kick my left leg up parallel to the side of my face David Lee Roth-style. Amish boys are limber boys.
And while I'm on the subject of attitude and Sassy Pants - you wanna see some sass? When the MJ starts rockin', like 'Don't Stop Till You Get Enough', I only have two words for you - Jazz Fingers. That's right, jazz fingers or a good pair of jazz hands make any song sparkle.
Those are the ones that really stick out as altering my behavior for the worst.
I have sentimental faves - Toto's 'Africa' always made me want to go to...Australia. I don't know why.
Or you can ask amishgirl about holding me down and dressing me like Madonna and forcing me to writhe around on the basement floor like a slutty second grader for the amusement of the other neighborhood children. And not to Madonna mind you. To Weird Al Yankovic's 'Like A Surgeon'.
And you wonder why I turn into a blubbering 13yr old girl when 80s music comes on....
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(I hope the reader's of amishboy only come here for a laugh, and aren't looking to connect with someone on a deeper level....'cause I don't think I have one.)
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In real news, I start temping on Monday. I get to join the working ranks like the rest of you. Only at one or two day strecthes though. It's phase one of my new secret battle plan to tackle this dark foe, "the future". My adultness begins HERE....(should I pack one juice-box or two...?)
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