Dance And The World Dances With You......Sometimes

Kroger's grocery traditionally only plays the lamest of the lame on their in-store radio. They're single-handedly resurrecting the soothing soft rock favorites that time (mercifully) forgot.
After a particularly mind-numbing shopping experience where the overhead speakers blared both the Titanic theme song and "The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald" back-to-back, I came to the conclusion that their programmer harbors an unhealthy ship wreck fixation.
Keep that man away from a career in the cruise ship D.J. field!
Sometimes the music is so bleak that I automatically go into announcer mode with my snarky-malarkey radio voice. My announcements usually go something like this: "Sad Sack Radio: All the saddest songs, all the time! Kindly vacate the rat poison and kitchen knife aisles before the next suicidal tune in this very special Depress-A-Thon music mix!"
If you happen to survive the sentimental sounds wreaking havoc on your emotions then you'll be well prepared to take on over the narcolepsy-inducing aspect of so many sllllooooowwwwww songs played right in a row.
It's not just on major thoroughfares that you have to worry about people falling asleep at the wheel. It's a good thing Kroger's sells No Doz tablets, otherwise the shopping basket fatalities resulting from customers nodding off while pondering which Hamburger Helper to buy this week would be much greater.
How many eggs and pasta sauce jars must be sacrificed before Kroger's deigns to plays some peppier stuff?
I get the slow music strategy, though. It's all a sinister marketing ploy.
See, the more plodding the music, the greater the likelihood a customer will linger longer. The shoppers essentially become unwitting victims, aimlessly wandering down the aisles in a lite rock-infused daze. Muskrat Love always has that effect on me anyways. So, basically, all of this leads to impulse buying and increased spending.
It's freakin diabolical but incredibly genius at the same time.
So imagine my surprise while shopping last Friday night, with my entire entourage of mini-Infidels in tow, when the K-Roger Discotheque actually played a kickin' J. Lo song. Not just that, but it was a funky dance remix of J. Lo's club hit "Get Right."
I was powerless to resist the rump-shaking urges that "Get Right" always induces. I swear that the milk section had been completely vacant prior to my dancing jiggling exhibition with giant string cheese tumbleweeds rolling down the desolate aisle. But then, much to my horror, I turned around slowly just in time to witness at least 5 other Kroger shoppers frozen in shock, staring at me with wide eyes and mouths agape.
Apparently my milk shake doesn't bring all the boys to the yard.....but it does bring all the customers to the dairy aisle.
Embarrassed at my uncharacteristic display of craziness, I took my mini-Infidels and hid in the secluded safety of the clearance corner until I was sure that all the involuntary spectators had moved on.
Sunbum, the oldest, kept reassuring me that it was fine. She remarked that the people looked on disapproving because they wondered what the heck someone could be so happy about that they'd dance a jig right in the middle of the grocery store. Sunbum said they were probably jealous of my uninhibited spontaneity.
I'm sure that's it.
The moral of the story is that one should always avoid the advice set forth by hand-painted plaques and cheesy gift shop merchandise.
I did indeed dance like no one was watching. Regrettably though, people were watching. In fact, it felt as though ALL the eyes of Texas were upon me eyeballing my lack of rhythm, grace, and coordination.
I could almost hear that mysterious voice from Field Of Dreams echoing, "IF YOU SHAKE IT, THEY WILL COME!"
Well then, I guess in the future I'll be a little more discerning about where and when I choose to bust a move since it's like a beacon for all to gather round and stare in wide wonder.
Here's a few helpful lifestyle tips I've composed just for you:

• Sing Like Nobody Is Listening You Just Had Your Vocal Chords Removed.
• Work Like You Don't Need The Money Vindictive Vinnie And His Sidekick Liver Lips Louie Are Waiting At Your House, Crowbar In Hand, For This Month's Protection Payment.
• Dance Like Nobody Is Watching You're At A Southern Baptist Convention.
• Love Like You've Never Been Hurt Everyone Is Made Out Of Peanut Butter And You'll Go Into Anaphylactic Shock If You Get Too Close.
• Blog Like Nobody Is Reading You Ain't Making No Money Out Of It. (Oh wait, I think I already got this one down.)

P.S. This is my new theme song to life. The first few lines address the unfortunate occurrence of getting laughed at while dancing--to which Aussie Ben Lee chirpily croons "I Feel SAD For You, You Never Take A Chance!" Awesome.
BEN LEE--WHAT'S SO BAD ABOUT FEELING GOOD?

When The Fray Met Shakira: A Love Story

Once upon a time there was a white bread, piano-driven adult contemporary band called The Fray. Oh sure, their music was pleasing and agreeable enough to find airplay in grocery stores and offices across America......why, they even provided the emotionally manipulative backdrop music for a cheesy TV drama or two. However, few could argue that The Fray's sound was tediously formulaic--with each song becoming virtually indistinguishable from the next.
That was until they decided to cover Shakira's iconic track "Hips Don't Lie." The Fray succeeded in making the funniest, most deadpan cracker version of a spicy dance song ever in recorded history thus proving that musical diversity is truly a beautiful thing to behold.
The End.
Congratulations go out to The Fray. You indeed "make a woman go mad!" (with laughter)

The Smiling Infidel: Currently Starring In Woody Harrelson's Killer Sequel "Natural Born Pickers." (Death To Blueberries!)

How much pickety-pickin power do we pack?

Well, I don't like to boast but me and my troupe of mini-Infidels have ascended to the highest levels on the competitive picking circuit.

We're currently poised to win Mexico's biggest game show WHO WANTS TO BE A MIGRANT WORKER!

Last week we found our thrill on Blueberry Hill as we deftly filled bucket after bucket with a grand total of 12 1/2 pounds of blueberries within 2 hours time.

It's especially amazing considering that drought conditions severely limited the amount of blueberries available. It forced us into getting all up in the blueberry bushes business. We even engaged in some unscrupulous shakedown tactics. Primitive but effective.

My favorite trick involves dressing up in blue from head to toe. It makes it easier to become one with the blueberry. Once I infiltrate their ranks I convince the blueberries that I'm protecting them from the savage pickers on the hunt all around them. Then I coax them into the bucket with a promise of entrance into my special Blueberry Relocation Program. They don't know that's actually secrety code for "Operation Bucket To Belly" until it's too late.

[Insert Maniacal Laughter Here]

It was a sweltering 101 degrees as we picked and sweated and saw mirages of The Great Blueberry smiling down upon us from afar. We entertained ourselves by singing everything from "Hollaback Girl" to Bread's Greatest Hits.

And then an older lady with a voice that perfectly parroted Edith Bunker burst our blueberry pickin bubble of happiness by continuously screeching for "Bob." It went on for at least 20 agonizing minutes.

"Bob......Boooooooooobbbbb......BBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOBBBBB......where are you BOOOOBBBBBBB??!??"

After enduring such a lengthy onslaught of this woman's shrill whine I certainly couldn't blame Bob for running off to play a game of solitary hide and seek.

I don't know what possessed our normally subdued selves, but with the exception of my oldest son Buster, the rest of us started imitating the lady by simultaneously calling out for our very own imaginary friend named Bob. It got way out of hand. We used the bushy landscape as camouflage when saying things like:

"Hey everybody, Bob is a palindrome.....from front to back he's exactly the same!!!"

"Bob plus O equals BOOB!"

"B-O-B stands for Blueberries on Bob!"

And then Buster clamped his hand over my mouth and frantically whispered, "Mom, you HAVE to stop RIGHT NOW or Bob is going to come over here and he's NOT going to be happy."

That made me uncontrollably spray out a bunch of blue-tinged saliva in laughter.

I ain't fraid' of no BOB!

BOB was probably off Bobbin' For Blueberries somewhere. No, not really. Boo, the youngest male heir in the Infidel household, accomplished that stupefying hands-free feat all on his own when he spotted a lusciously plump blueberry dangling off a low-hanging branch. Boo crouched down and in one fearsome moment he lunged, his pointed teeth bared as he aimed for the blueberry target. In one tremendous gobble he devoured it whole. He's more Jaws on a blueberry diet than he is a mere mortal boy.

So then fearless mini-Infidel leader Sunbum commenced to brazenly yelling out a roll call with oddball names not usually seen outside of psychedelic nightmares incited by consuming a fermented blueberry or two......or three(dozen). She wanted to see if any of our fellow field workers would answer her.

I guess it's just too much to hope for that persons going by Boogaloo Shrimp, Jermaine, Pocahontas, Tyrone, Mathias, and Huffy would all be assembled in one place at the same time.

It's possible that we all turned a bit delusional and loopy courtesy of the complimentary heatstroke that came FREE! with every blueberry bucket picked.

Or maybe we're just the most obnoxious and orneriest gang of purple-fingered blueberry pickers this side of the fruit bowl.

If you see us heading your way, clear a path.....your blueberries are belong to us!