The Smiling Infidel Drags Private Dancing Onto A Public Blog

I'd like to say that we are a strange but wonderful family whose minds work in strange but wonderful ways.......but the truth is that we're a whole lot more strange than anything else.

Does anybody remember that over-the-top dramatic Tina Turner song from the mid-80's called 'Private Dancer'? I've harbored a very unhealthy Private Dancer fixation since first watching the cheese-a-rific video during my formative years. The shamelessly shimmying Tina shaking it for a dollar really left an indelible stain on my psyche. Of course, these are the kinds of memories that beg to be passed on and shared with the next generation lest they forget the magical oddities of 80's music.......

I've had entire conversations with my kids centered around Private Dancer. Yes, it's true. We've created a Private Dancer back story, a Private Dancer future, and we've tried to answer all manner of Private Dancer questions and implausibilities. Here's a transcript sampling of our scintillating Private Dancer conversation from yesterday:
Sunbum (oldest Infidel daughter): "How come it just costs a dollar? How can she possibly pay her bills when she only earns a buck a dance?"
Me: "More importantly, who puts a dollar on their American Express card? Wouldn't the guy's wife wonder what all the dollar charges marked P.D. are on their monthly statements?"
Sunbum: "Well, maybe the Private Dancer studio is next door to the Dollar Store so the guy can lie and say he blew all the money there."
Me: "I'd like to print up some business cards that say 'Elasticwaistbandlady.....Your Private Dancer'."
Sunbum: "Uhhh Mom, I've seen you dance. You can only be a Private Dancer because nobody wants to see those moves out in public."

Private Dancer obsession has spilled over into other parts of our daily life, too. Every Tuesday I make the long sojourn out to the rural outskirts of Houston for one of my jobs. I often take one of my older daughters with me. Each week we drive past this hand-made posterboard sign taped onto a light pole advertising a place that will provide ponies for your party. In big, bold letters the sign states "We Rent Ponies By The Hour." The sign always makes us feel sad for the ponies being pimped out at an hourly rate like they're some kind of equine prostitute. Whenever we pass by the pony advertisement my girls and I start singing,"I'm your private pony....a pony for money, I'll do what you want me to do.....just a private pony, a pony for money and any old horse feed will doooo."

You know how it's perfectly acceptable within the realm of your own family or encircled by your friends to feel totally comfortable to say/do whatever weird thing pops into your mind without restraint? Yeah, well, sometimes the things you say/do in the comfort zone spills over into the not-so-comfortable zone.

Case in point, there's a lot of deer herds milling around while I'm out working on Scenic Country Roads Tuesday. We never fail to stop and oooh and ahhh over the deer because they're just so stinkin cute though admittedly they're not very bright; but what they lack in brain power they make up for in beauty. As we came across a bunch of deer standing around next to the road, guess what song started playing on my XM Satellite Radio? YES! It was Private Dancer time!! Naturally I stopped my truck so Sunbum and I could gaze at the beauteous deer and then I began serenading them, singing Private Dancer with fervent gusto! I alternated between singing and preaching to the deer as I told them not to be suckered into becoming anyone's Private ANTLER because they are worth so much more than that. Sunbum was in the backseat struggling with manic fits of laughter because while I counseled the deer into avoiding the seedy Private Antler lifestyle I neglected to notice the burly but smiling homeowner standing in his driveway just a few feet away listening to my every word and every song note. Ooops.

Hopefully, that homeowner takes my words to heart as he ponders upon my sage advice. If I can save just one flannel-shirted redneck man from engaging in the thankless Private Dancer trade then my public embarrassment will have all been worth it!