Never gonna run around and desert you

April Fools day always makes me roll my eyes. Really, I hate it. The only reason I can stomach it is because it is now only 25 days until my birthday. This birthday is especially exciting because I'll be turning 26 on the 26th, which is I think, what they call your golden birthday. I hear on those special days, you poop rainbows, the mayor hands you a puppy, and the skinny mirror that gives you all your devious advice tells you you're the fairest of them all, and actually means it.

But back to stupid April 1st.

It's an excuse for the corporate world to try and nervously prove that it has a sense of humor. Meetings held to announce the end of TPS reports, email trails of Family Circus cartoons, and a promise of lobster in the office cafeteria. Of course, none of this is true, minus the stupid forwards of cartoons, usually from the type of person that has an email message background, a quote on the bottom of their email, and makes a lot of smiley faces.

The webber-tubes are also overly geeked about April fools day, making jokes with slashes, ones, zeros and cats laughing, rabbits disapproving, and dogs failing. One of my personal favorite sites, Jezebel, turned into Lucky-magazine-meets-the-skinny-website for a day. I let that slide though, because it's smart.

The only gag that really made today worth grinning and bearing, is the You Tubes.



When I was little, my dad had this 45. YES, THE 45! I would dance to it, watching my reflection on the darkened TV with Get in Shape Girl sweatbands on my wrists, thinking this is what it must be like at prom. Minus the spandex. And also, the possibility of cleavage.

Rick Astley makes everything better. A lousy week at work. Gloomy weather. A sinkful of dishes you've been ignoring since Sunday.

The bouncy dancing. He really leads with the knees and the finger snap, doesn't he? He's guilty of the white person overbite. And someone clearly told him to write his name in the air with his ass. While attempting "the eggbeater".

The pants. Specifically, the whole head-to-toe denim look. It's like he's hiding a cheese steak in there for a snack later. Maybe two.

The bartender. Where is he when I need him? Can we get him a job at Sonoma, my new favorite place to hang out? Seriously, just don't kick over my bowl of baby peaches and I think that would really spiff up the upstairs atmosphere. I especially like when he's recycled as the dancer in booty shorts who bounces off a fence. Nice transition, 1980's music video editor!

The set. Clearly, the filming location of your local haunted house during Halloween.

The two blonde backup dancers. Who does this guy think he is? The artist formerly known as Prince for the Landsende catalogue crowd?

THE SHADES.

I've watched this video no less than about 17 times today. I maybe danced to it in my living room.

Exactly what I needed to watch 15 times today

Today was the kind of day where I wanted to bang my head repreatedly against the wall, but there didn't seem to be any walls thick enough or hard enough to do the kind of damage that I was hoping would get me some medical leave.

The only thing that can remedy this is Turk dancing to Bell Biv Devoe.

First with the youtube. Then with the frank discussions of early 90's music that you must jazzercise-dance to. I loved a good bouncy early '90's running man. A little roger rabbit. Whatever that thing Turk does with his hands and flappy elbows. I've done it, and I'll do it again.

If I had a dollar for every time I've said 'Bell Biv DeVoe' in the last 2 weeks I think I'd have about 13 bucks.

Seriously though-- who has SEPARATE conversations about this? Over google chat. Over the Cubicle wall. Whatever.

That's some serious cash. For Bell Biv DeVoe I mean. When is the last time YOU said "Bell Biv DeVoe" out loud?

Try it.

It's one of those phrases that pleases your mouth to say it. It's like saying "kerfuffle". You just have to grin.

Like me now. Cuz now I'd have $15.