Monday, Oct. 20, 2003
Dear Diary:

There are people who have never, ever held a hair brush up in front of their mouth and sung along with a Supremes song, pretending that they were Diana Ross.

Wait. It gets worse.

There are people who do not automatically throw up the little stop gesture when they hear "Stop In The Name of Love."

Wait. It gets even worse than that.

There are people who do not know the words to "You Can't Hurry Love."

And all of them were in my gym this morning when I inaugurated Motown Monday with my Supremes CD. You can well imagine my horror when the handful of 20 something male weightlifters around me confessed that they have never heard of the Supremes or Diana Ross.

Really, there is only one possible explanation for this:

They were Raised By Wolves.

As my three loyal readers have probably inferred by now, the inaugural Motown Monday was not the smash I anticipated. Frankly, there was grumbling. I know. I am as stunned by this turn of events as you are.

I'm not giving up, though. I'm thinking that perhaps Ms. Ross' admittedly adenoidal voice was grating. I have decided that next week I will bring in my three tape Motown compilation, open these impressionable young minds to Martha Reeves and the Vandellas, The Miracles, The Marvelettes, The Four Tops, The Temptations, Marvin Gaye, Tammy Terrell et al.

I could also smuggle in some of the Muscle Shoals bands--Sam and Dave and Aretha, for example. Oh, I know, it's not actually Motown but it's sweet soul music. Imagine living a life so barren that you've never heard the original version of "When Something Is Wrong With My Baby".

I know. The thought of that makes me feel like weeping too.

The only way I have been able to keep my spirits up is to come home and sing along to the wondrous David Ruffin. Zubby is a veteran of this and barely opened his eyes when I started belting out "Ain't Too Proud To Beg" at the top of my lungs. My new cats, Norma and Enid, were quite alarmed, though--especially since I tend to sing in a mysterious key known only to me.

It's odd that I should love this music so much because it was the soundtrack to the most miserable part of my life, my teens. I was too tall, too skinny, too bookish, too different. I've often said that if there is such as thing as hell, then mine will be living my teens in an endless loop without knowing the redemption of my 20's--never getting out of the small town where I grew up, never getting to university, never realizing that different wasn't a bad thing to be.

Too bad it took me 20 years to realize that. I was too tall, too skinny, too bookish, too different but clearly I wasn't too smart, eh?

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 469.04 miles (754.8 kilometers)
Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Half way smoochTen percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.
Goal for 2003: 500 miles - 804.5 kilometers

Going Nowhere Collaboration

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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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