Sure, he is easy to parody â€“ the clothes, the mullet, the unabashed enthusiasm. But the thing is, he has an amazing voice, and as cheesy as the guy is, I love how much he means it when he sings. I played this video for Baby and Husband, which led Baby to do some unusual choreography — mostly very pointed squatting to the beat, but still, I recognize inspiration when I see it.
If you watch the video, see how he mimes the keyboard? Someone should write a poem to Steve Perry. I would, but I am truly lazy. O-my-Steve-Perry-do-I-see-myself-in-you? (not a poem, but bear with me — Steve Perry leads to Refridgerator Perry, which reminds me the opening line in Dreamer Examines His Pillow, where the lost lead character keeps talking to the fridge).
Whenever I hear the “Glory of Love,” I want to break my old tae kwon do forms. I donâ€™t remember any except the first one, which is positively thuggish compared to other martial arts, like the precise and elegant kung fu, for example. But still, I can do a low block and a high block to â€œI am a man who will fight for your honor.â€
You know, I recently watched the Wham “Last Christmas” video and I really enjoyed the plot and acting. This was back when George Michael was straight, so you know it’s old, but he plays a guy who runs into an ex at a friend gathering and they’ve both moved on, but from his hurt, stolen glances, you can tell he’s still heartbroken. Bravo, Mr. Michael, on your performance.
I’ve inadvertently watched some football this year, due to the fact that Husband is a fan, and I have to say, I like the way the dudes dance on the field. It’s not a sloppy victory dance, but a series of slow, controlled movements — a bit of pelvic thrusting, sometimes just one shoulder shimmy. It reminds me of how my old co-worker Holly once danced to Janet Jackson among our cubes when she found out this guy had a crush on her.
You know, I don’t really put a lot of thought in to Xmas. We usually host my parents with Husband cooking up an amazing five-course meal that’s a lot for the 80-pound-senior citizen elderly people to eat, we have wine, swap gifts, and move on. It’s a really lovely tradition, but this year, for different reasons, we ended up having a variety of plans that all went ka-put in the eleventh hour so we did not plan for a meal, and our plans became so progressively informal that even my mother bailed thirty minutes prior to our meeting time.
Husband woke up in such a grump mood, he said, “This Christmas stinks. This is Doodie Christmas,” and would mutter “Doodie Christmas” under his breath every time something went wrong. Christmas Eve was rough because Husband worked till the evening and Baby behaved like a Drunken Midget all day, so our prep time just shrank. We did get a tree but as of 9 p.m. Christmas Day, I’ve only managed to hang three ornaments (and will probably stop there). Still, I was in a good mood all day and lectured Husband, “if you want a special Christmas, make it special.” I shopped for some brunch items, he made us pancakes, we opened gifts, and then we all napped. It was not a half-bad day.
Only when my mom bailed on dinner (and not that I blame her — she’s just getting over a bad cold, and she didn’t like the plan of wandering around Brooklyn until we found a restaurant that was open), did I become grumpy. In my grump, I decided to go to Queens to a friend’s Xmas party. We packed up Baby with all his accoutrements and booked a car, which drove so haphazardly, that when I looked over at Husband, he looked like he was going to hurl. Unfortunately, Baby really did hurl, poor little dude, all over his jeans, coat, and chair. Husband got in an altercation with the driver when we got out (it’s amazing; he can let out his anger like projectile vomit and I swallow everything), then made up and wiped the seat. Baby is so good-natured, that even with puke all over his body, he was still in a pleasant mood. I mean, once you puke, you can only go up, you know? (Especially when you’re the Buddha Baby.)
We wondered if our friends were still home, since we ended up taking so long to finally get there. The way Doodie Christmas was going, I assumed they had left to see a movie, so my back-up plan was to change Baby in their vestibule, grab dinner at a diner, then go home — the whole thought of which made me giggle uncontrollably, Husband made me take slow breaths so I wouldn’t give birth. (Actually, I started giggling once Baby puked in the car.) Once we finally got to the party, we all three had a great time.
Next year, I will be Captain Christmas. I realize since I’m going to have a kajillion kids, I sort of have to take the lead and actually make it festive at home. Duh.
Funny how today was kind of rough and epic but ended up being great.
Merry Doodie Christmas, everybody!
Once the OB confirmed that I was indeed having twins, he said no more gym. Is that not insane? With the first kid, I worked out every day till I was in labor and had to watch with what I eat. With twins, I’m told I need to take it easy and look to gain 50-80 pounds. Fifty to eighty pounds! That’s like lugging around a preadolescent boy on my back, eee gads! What’s sad is although I went to the gym for years every day, I do not miss going one bit.
The prenatal yoga DVDs I have are fine. My only issue is that the script is sometimes too cheerful for my taste, like one of my DVD instructors explains how one exercise will help you carry your growing body, which you will carry “happily of course.” Really? Happily? I mean, I’m going to be psyched to meet these kids, but do I need to be pumped to feel the pain in my hips? Duuuuuuude.
Whatever. Once I have time and freedom to work out again, I look forward to figuring out what will be fun. I probably didn’t mind quitting the gym because I was getting tired of the drudgery of my normal exercise routine. Time for change!
Two days ago, Obama went to Kansas, a state he lost despite having some roots there through his mom, and gave what many interpreted as a pro-middle-class speech. You know, I donâ€™t care if this speech is a calculated response to the Occupy movement or an explicit play for re-election. I think itâ€™s cool for someone in a leadership position to talk about real stuff people are suffering through. Itâ€™s heartening, gosh darn it. Hereâ€™s the transcript in case you missed it.
So with twin pregnancies, everything feels faster and bigger. I felt them move earlier, my body expanded more quickly, etc. than with the first pregnancy. I canâ€™t really walk like a normal person. Not only do I feel like an antique armoire, I actually move like one down the sidewalk, just swinging my legs forward side-to-sideâ€¦much the way youâ€™d move a heavy piece of furniture, which totally makes me feel like I should join the cast of “Beauty and the Beast.” Be our guest, be our guest!