Todd came home from work last night telling me he had the most Ky-riffic radio commute ever. I laughed at this and responded by saying there is no way he could fill 45 minutes with music I would enjoy. And certainly not without popping in a cd. Then he began to list the songs he heard: Womanzier by Britney, Shake It by Metro Station, Whatever You Like by TI, Hot & Cold by Katy Perry. Touche. (By the way, if he'd have heard So What by Pink I think I would have lost it.)
My darling husband knows me better than myself sometimes. This is exactly how he is able to repeatedly point out my obsession with pop music. In fact, he usually helps me recognize my guilty pleasures long before I realize my affections toward them. (Sometimes, he even steers me toward one I may like...hmm, T.I.). However they make it to me (MTV award shows, crap radio, walking through the mall, the checker at Target) it does not take me long to get hooked on a catchy tune. It is a love affair I have happily kept alive for most of my life, endured relentless ridicule for, and enjoyed on numerous car rides. It began ages ago with Thriller and I do not foresee it ending any time soon. So next time you see me, rolling up at the stop light, singing Single Ladies at the top of my lungs with my Beyonce accompaniment, laugh all you want because I like it so much I don't care what anyone else thinks.
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