Friday, November 16, 2012


I was driving the other day and I started to think. I like some seriously crappy music. I mean it's really bad. But I love it. Basically if it would be fun to dance to, I'm a fan.

This love of crappy music is not new. Must I bring up the waiting in line for 12 hours in the rain to see O-Town incident? Sooo bad. But I loved them then, and if I could find their old CD I'd probably love them now.

What got my started on this was the radio. They were playing a Ke$ha song and I got all excited. I seriously seriously love Ke$ha. I can't even type her name without cringing, it's so painful. But I love her repetitive poppy music. It gets in my head and I can't get it out. I woke up at 4am to pee this morning singing that same Ke$ha's like an epidemic.

I guess my standards for music are a little low. I don't care if they can't sing, if they say the same thing 1000 times, or if they are a white blonde girl trying to rap (not to mention any names here). If it makes me feel good I like it.

Jimmy and I are always fighting to be radio commando when we are in the car together. He hates my taste in music for the most part. If there is a song I put on that he hates, he sings really loudly off key over the song. Just to be irritating. Sweet isn't he?

I'm not ashamed of my bad taste in music. I listen to it loud and proud...usually. Until someone else gets in the car and I start to wonder if they are judging me based on my love of computerized white girl rap. Maybe they are. Judge away outside world!

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