Do you dance in the shower? The kind where you're queen of the dance floor? Pulling out moves you wouldn't dare try at your relo's wedding because the guest list just isn't the crowd to appreciate such greatness? All eyes on you cause you're THAT damn good? Me too. Last night my silky moves were courtesy of the shady tone and (equally shady) lyrics of one Robin Thicke. The shadiness stops at Pharrell. The man is just plain COOL. My sister and I had a funny exchange via text following Thicke's performance earlier in the week on The Voice finale. Forgive my lack of musical knowledge but he wasn't what either of us were expecting. Leaving his arrogance, poor facial grooming and head-stuck-up-his-own-arse GOLD microphone aside, the man oooooozed confidence. I found him - or perhaps his hips - strangely attractive and disturbing all at once. But that's not important. The song's killer and my bathroom tiles appreciate the performance. Every single time.
In other music news this week at Chateau P, my one true musical love Johnny, released the first single from his latest, upcoming album Paradise Valley. It would appear he's still channelling his cowdy phase which is okay by me. August can't come fast enough. While doing some editing last night, Spotify played this for me - on repeat. I listened to the same song for three hours. I am not sure Joanna should be prancercising in public and I have no idea what John was thinking when he coined the idea for this video.. but that's not important. The song's killer and my bathroom tiles will appreciate the forthcoming performances. Every single time. Yes, there's an echo in here.
Meanwhile.. we should seriously consider bringing back the high waisted legging. Or is that a unitard? Whatever it is, the belt finishes it all off perfectly. Bust a move. Or prancercise. Whatevs. Just DANCE.
