To say I am not a morning person is like saying Simon Cowell is just moody. If it were up to me nothing would begin before 10 a.m., certainly nothing so mundane as a job. Alas, the rest of the world does not share my owlish ways and I am forced from bed each morning at
6:00 6:10 6:20 6:30 (the snooze button is the devil). At the butt-crack of dawn there are only two things that get me going: a shower and music. These days the water must be warm, but not hot—it’s already too hot here—and the music must be fast and loud. I dock my iPod onto the speakers in the bathroom, hit shuffle, and get in the shower. Sometimes I’m awake enough to pay attention to the actual songs, sometimes it’s all I can do to keep upright and not drown. (P.S. If this ever happens, my love, please, please put some clothes on me before the paramedics arrive. Thx.) Anyway, today it was the latter, but apparently my guy was paying attention because he burst into the bathroom, laughing his head off.
“This is on your iPod?”
“Uuuhhhh—yeah, I don’t know how this got on there, must have been on some old CD I had. I’d forgotten all about it.”
Lie. Straight up. I love this song. But, alone, in the car with the windows up, where no one can hear me sing it at the top of my lungs. This, my friends, is iPod shame: those little gems in our music list that we would deny to the death we love, while secretly putting them on replay for hours. Cheesy, overly sentimental, ballads and rock anthems alike. We know they suck, but something about them—the beat, a lyric, the memory invoked of that guy with the supersexy shoulder tattoo that summer after senior year—won’t let us send them to music purgatory where they belong. Whatever the reason, we all have them.
In no particular order—because they pretty much suck equally—these are my three (that I will admit to on a public forum anyway):
Groovy Kind of Love by Phil Collins-- This song is an over-the-top 80’s cheesefest, but when Phil croons the lines “when I’m in your arms, nothing seems to matter, my whole world could shatter, I don’t care” I swear my heart squeezes.
Margaritaville by Jimmy Buffett—Need I say more? But it reminds me of hot summers with friends by the pool.
Straight Tequila Night by John Anderson—For this one, I have almost no excuse, other than I was young, this is Texas, and I loved to two-step. Ugh, seeing the video only makes me cringe more:
Tell me, what’s in your iPod Hall of Shame?