Justin Timberlake is sending me secret messages through my iPod.
I realize that may sound a little too Russell Crowe in “A Beautiful Mind”, but it’s true. Sometimes he does it through my TV and radio as well, but mostly my iPod. I think it’s easier for him because it goes directly in my ears. Sort of a direct shot right into my brain.
I first noticed it when he hosted Saturday Night Live some time ago. He was funny and cute in that adolescent boy kind of way; certainly nothing that would attract the attention of someone old enough to be his extremely attractive and exceptionally young looking older sister.
But then something went a tad weird. He sang that one song that talks about “girl” this and “girl” that and some other romantic words I recognized from my dating days and I suddenly realized he was looking right at me.
I mean it. Right at me.
It was like if I leaned over the coffee table to get a handful of corn chips and a swig of Michelob; his eyes were on me the whole time.
I looked to see if maybe someone else was hiding behind my sofa for no good reason, but the only thing back there was Tanner, the amazing four pound Yorkie. He hadn’t had a bath in going on two weeks, so I’m relatively confident Justin wasn’t giving him the come hither eye as I had in fact bathed that very same evening.
The next day, when Justin came on my car radio, it was glaringly obvious he was singing directly to me. He started telling me he was my slave and that he felt I really needed to get my sexy on.
I concurred and appreciated the reminder.
I ran to iTunes the minute I got home to see if maybe there were any more messages in an effort to verify what I was sure I was hearing. The thing is I have a fear of walking around with crazy all over my face and not knowing it. That’s why I often double check my potentially insane theories and/or thoughts for accuracy and complete lack of crazy.
Sure as sugar, there it was again. Every single solitary Justin Timberlake song had a message in it explicitly for me, the OCD Chick.
“If I told you, you were beautiful; would you date me on the regular?”
Is he kidding? I’ve married men because they told me I didn’t have ugly shins.
“Ain’t gotta do nothin’ crazy”.
There is no ignoring that one. He gets me. Justin Timberlake totally gets me.
The only conceivable conclusion is that Justin is coming for me very soon. Sure, we might get some jealous stares when we’re walking on the beach, in the countryside or lying in the grass (which actually I never do because I hate touching nature), but that’s OK.
We’ve all read that forty is the new thirty, which of course means that thirty is the new twenty and twenty is the new fetus. The thing is, having my gallbladder removed has resulted in a weight loss that I’m certain is what attracted JT to me in the first place. Perpetual nausea and endless diarrhea has made this middle-aged OCD Chick completely irresistible to ex-boy band singers and old guys with very few teeth.
Oh, and prisoners of any sort. Men in long term captivity desire me something awful.
What Goes Around ~ Prepare to get freaked out by his blatant adoration of me.
Copyright © 2004-2007, Sherri Bailey
This blog may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written permission of the author.
Tell me you love me at: HumorWriter@gmail.com
Tell me you hate me at: Yeah. I'm so sure I'm going to make that easy for you.