One of my favorite yoga instructors (T) taught class last night. He brought an iPod full of (mostly) eighties music to commemorate his birthday, and it was damn near impossible for me to not sing along with The Alarm and Simple Minds. Would have wrecked the whole breathing thing, though. Anyway, there was a fair amount of Name That Tune going on during class, and near the end he went over to the stereo thing to change the music, saying, Okay — if ANYONE gets this next one, I will buy them a case of beer. You have about three and a half minutes, but I know that nobody will know this.
To which I said (in my head, because I was doing the breathing thing) Game on, dude. Bring it!
So, the music starts and about three notes in I was all, DOOT DOOT BY FREUR! AND I LIKE EXPENSIVE BEER! Jen, FTW! Har.
The look on his face was priceless, cliche as that is to say. Really, though, we ended up going three minutes over our class time because we had to shoot the shit about Freur for a moment in class. It was funny and I don’t know that I have ever impressed anyone quite so much except for maybe that one time when I gave birth in my living room.
After class, T and his gorgeous ladyfriend who was rocking the 1940’s starlet look in all the right ways, and the studio founders and a few other students all went out to dinner. I got to know a couple of women that I had seen around the studio before much better and totally stayed out chatting with them way past the time I was supposed to go. It was nothing big, but it was really, really fun.
Much more fun than right now. Right now I am sitting here with a very itchy bumpy rash on my back, a little bit nervous that I have suddenly developed an allergy to the amoxicillin I’m taking for my ear infection. The other antibiotic I’m allergic to gives me hives on my chest, but maybe I’m so screwed up lately that this rash just *thinks* it’s on my frontside. I think I’m going to go chug from the bottle of liquid Benedryll and get some freaky-dreams sleep. Here’s a little Freur for you. If you didn’t spend a chunk of your time as a teenager driving around with your sunroof open and a menthol cigarette in your hand while blasting this song then you’ll most likely not be anything close to captivated by this incredibly 1983 video. Enjoy!