Monday, February 12, 2007

Is There Something Wrong Here?

Last night, after an afternoon of running errands followed by dinner out, we rushed home to see The Police open the 49th Grammy Awards. We made it by a minute, having enough time to get in the door, turn on the TV, and surf to the right channel before hearing Sting declare, "Ladies and gentlemen, we are the Police and we are back!" Insert chills here. They sounded amazing, but I was disappointed when they left the stage after performing Roxanne. I wanted more.

I settled in and Diane gave the girls their baths, graciously allowing me to absorb the show. Thanks, hon, you're the best! She took Kailey away first, leaving Kyra and I to watch The Dixie Chicks perform Not Ready to Make Nice. Joan Baez introduced them by saying something to the effect of "some people tell artists to shut up and sing". This struck a chord with Kyra. After the performance she asked me, "Why are people telling them to shut up and sing?" I offered what I thought to be a lame answer, but it seemed to make sense to her, so for the rest of the evening the Dixie Chicks became known as the "girls who were told to shut up and sing."

Kailey came in after her bath and Kyra took her turn in the tub as I gave Kailey her pajamas and dried her hair. Kyra returned a short while later because she wanted to see Shakira and Wyclef Jean perform Hips Don't Lie. SAY WHAT!?! Don't ask me where my six year-old learned this song...I barely even know it. But that's what she wanted to watch.

We were just about ready to send the girls to bed when Shakira came on. And I don't know what's worse: the fact that Kyra knows the song, or that we LET her watch the performance. Shakira comes on the stage in a long gold skirt and a matching, um, top, for lack of a better word, and her infamous midriff bared for all the world to see. The song begins and Shakira does her thing, shaking it all over the stage. Then the backup dancers show up and they're shaking it all over the stage too. There's a whole lotta shakin' goin' on. However, the backup dancers, I noticed, were not allowed to show their midriffs...only Shakira. I think that's #1 in Shakira's Ten Commandments: Thou shalt have no other midriffs before mine, sayeth Shakira.

It makes sense...thar's pow'r in them thar hips!! Hypnotic power mixed with a little morse code. It goes like this: shake, shake, are getting very sleepy...shake, shake, are now under my command...shake, shake, will buy all of my CD's, DVD's, concert tickets, t-shirts, posters, and bumper stickers...shake, shake, when I slap my butt...shake, shake, will wake up, go to your computer and empty your checking accounts, savings accounts, and load up all your credit cards at my website...

SLAP!! Thank goodness that slap was from my wife, up the side of my head. I guess I was drooling. She saved me from the hypnotic trance of Shakira's hips. Thanks, hon, you're the best! And to think that we subjected our precious little girls to this. Not to mention the fact that I taped it and allowed Kyra to watch it THREE MORE TIMES this morning. What is wrong with me? I blame it on the trance.


Racheal said...

I ran across your blog thanks to beastmom's. I'm glad I did. thesleepdeprivedmomma

the battered ham said...

Glad you enjoyed your visit!