One of the first things that attracted me to Mr. G oh those long years ago was that he was, well, attractive. That might seem like stating the obvious. But first of all, when I say attractive I mean superfreakinHOT. And also that might have been, for me, a totally new quality in a boyfriend. I know, right? Embarrassing. So here was this incredibly sweet guy, who also happened to be really smart and fun and hilarious and Ohmahgah…HOT. Like muscley and broad shouldered and rippley ab-ed and…ahem. Did I mention his sweet ass? No? Well, let’s just say that boy still melts my buttah.
So there I was with this total jock boyfriend who jogged and played sports and even had a triathlon t-shirt. Suddenly my line about not participating in anything that might cause me to break a sweat or a nail didn’t sound so cute. In fact, it sounded totally lame. I wanted to get sweaty with this guy! Uh…I mean…Ok. Well, we all know what I mean.
So one day I told him that it was his job to make me into Sporty Spice. Which he immediately decided was about the most sexy thing I could have said to him. And he set about turning me into an athlete.
Yeah. Well. One really miserable bike ride had us both lowering our expectations pretty quickly. However, I can say with some certainty that 14 years later I am considerably more active and coordinated than I ever thought I would be. I may not be Serena, but I have completely gotten over my aversion to exercise. A couple of summers ago we even played golf with a couple who complimented our athleticism and I about died out of sheer joy. Me! An athlete!
Which is not to say that I laaahuuuuve to go to the gym or anything. I mean, it’s called WORKINGout. Not nappingout. Or shoppingout. Or even eatingicecreamout. So I have developed a few tricks over the years to keep me motivated. Not the least of which are shopping and eating ice cream. But the one that is relevant to this totally irrelevant blog post is this…When I am doing cardio I have to have a playlist full of really trashy, angry, sexually fueled hip hop and pop music blaring in my ears.
It’s beyond embarrassing really. I mean, we are talking about a whole bunch of Britney Spears, Snoop Dogg, Pussycat Dolls, Usher, Nelly, and sadly even some Miley Cyrus in my ear buds. I drive my Mom wagon to the gym. I lead my two adorable children to the kids club. And then it gets all Hott In Here.
Okeydokey. So. Now that you know that, it will come as no shock to you that I have recently been tuning into the Ke$ha station on Pandora for my gym tunes. (That’s right. I just typed a dollar sign in order to spell someone’s name.) Pandora, much like Tivo, can see you coming from a mile away, and immediately starts to put together playlists that it thinks you will like. Pandora apparently thinks I am a 20 year old stripper. Which is PERFECT for gym music. I figure if it makes you want to spin around on a pole in your birthday suit, it is going to motivate you to run that extra mile on the elliptical machine. (Just humor me.)
Howevah…I keep getting these Eminem songs that are just So. Totally. Insane. I mean, that guy is completely messed up, right? Have you heard anything off his “Rehab” album? OMg Marshal, you don’t need couples therapy. You need freakin’ shock therapy.
The song that has been on a constant loop in my brain today is “Love the Way You Lie” which features Rihanna on the refrain. That girl’s voice is amazing. In fact, despite the fact that the parts that Eminem sings are crazy and vile, I am going to put it on my playlist over there just so you can hear her. Just push play. Go ahead. You really need to hear it anyway so that you can rally with me on this next part.
Interweb…can we please find Eminem a nice girlfriend? I’d do it myself but I’m taken.