Benny Mardones, "Into the Night"? Sure you do. She’s just sixteen years old, leave her alone, they sayyyyyy… Sound familiar? No? Well, go download it off of Napster and listen to it. Go on, I’ll wait. Okay, remember now? Here’s something embarrassing – I used to LOVE that song, just love it to death. Oh, in my little teeny-bopper heart I longed for someone to love me that much. Of course, I didn’t realize at the time that the song was about some perverted 40 year old (guessing) who fell in lust with a poor, innocent 16 year-old (all 16 year-olds were innocent in the ’80s, you know) and wanted to steal her away into the night so he could do nasty things to her. In fact, I didn’t realize until last week when I was driving to the movie store exactly what the song was about, since I hadn’t heard it in so long. I about drove off the road. The next thing you know, I’ll be figuring out that "She-Bop" isn’t about dancing… (That last part was a joke, by the way. Please don’t email me and tell me what it’s really about, ’cause I don’t think I know you that well.) (Addendum, 11/8/01 – someone doing a search on Benny Mardones who actually knows the singer in person emailed to tell me that the song, in his words, Was not about a 40 year old trying to pick up a 16 year old. 16 year old was a girl that used to walk his dogs, she was abused, and mistreated by her parents. The love was him wanting to be able to have a part in her life and show her that some people do care about others, not sex and kinky stat. rape kinda things 🙂. Just thought y’all would be interested to know that) So I’ve lost in the area of 40 pounds since the end of June (don’t be too impressed, it’s really just a drop in the bucket), and one of the side effects I’ve noticed (aside from having to crawl, gasping for air and dripping sweat and cursing the existence of one Leslie ohihateher Sansone, to the door of the gym after I exercise in the morning) is that 68 is too cold to keep the house during the day. We’ve kept the house at 68 ever since we moved in, ’cause we’re those annoying people who really like it cool (cold) in our house. However, we’ve recently taken to bumping it up to 72 during the day. In the old days, we would have considered this practically tropical. What’s going to happen when I lose another 40 pounds? Will we be running around in an 80 degree house? I wrote an email this morning that amused me, so I’m going to reproduce it here in part, and then call it a day. I’m still losing weight, slowly but surely, in fact I’m doing the "official" weigh-in tomorrow morning, so I’m trying to keep off the scale in the meantime, but I’ve lost in the area of 40 pounds since late June. Unfortunately, this is just a drop in the bucket. HOWEVER, Fred is losing at such a fast rate that it makes me want to punch him sometimes. I swear, he weighs himself in the morning AND the afternoon, and every time I see him get on the scale, I just want to go poke his eyes out with a pen. He hops up on the scale, all perky-like, and then chirps "Oh, another pound gone since this morning!" And I always snarl "Oh, SHUT UP!" We were laying in bed talking once, and he said, all serious, "I think the reason I’m losing faster than you is because I’m exercising more intensively than you are." It was all I could do to not jump on him and sit on his chest until he suffocated to death. I mean, you should see me in the mornings when I’m done exercising, I’m practically crawling for the door, sobbing "No more! No more!" with sweat dripping off every part of my body. And that’s just the warmup. Heh! Anyway, he said "I think it’s ’cause I’m exercising more INTENSIVELY than you are," and I screamed "NO, IT’S BECAUSE YOU’RE A MAN AND MEN ALWAYS LOSE WEIGHT FASTER THAN WOMEN BECAUSE GOD HATES ME!" And, oh my god, do you know what he said? Honestly, I don’t know how I didn’t kill the man. He said "Maybe you’re losing slower than me because you BELIEVE you’ll lose slower than me!" At least I’m lucky, in that he doesn’t say anything if I sit down with a big-ass bowl of pudding (like I did Saturday night)(hell, at least it was non-fat, no-sugar pudding!) and stuff it all in my face. Sometimes, y’know, a gal’s just gotta have a big-ass, chocolatey snack. I’m no choc-a-holic, but I need my chocolate sometimes.]]>