If Loving Kylie is Wrong...

...then I don't wanna be right, my darlings.

Kylie Minogue is a large presence in my life these days. She is always on the TVs at the gym, motivating all of us to do just five more mintues on that stairmaster and complete one more set of crunches. Bless her little heart.

I love watching her videos without sound. It really helps me realize that sometimes, you don't need drugs to feel all jacked up. How trippy are those vids, people?! With those little moving graphics, people in funny costumes, and her sparkly silver eyebrows. Bless her little heart.

I have recently downloaded some of her best tunes and made a "Down Under Thunder" mix. Originally, I wanted something fun to listen to at the gym and in traffic...but I have been playing it at work, and it has started to slip into an obsession. I'm not scared to share that with you. The first step is admitting it, right?

Sometimes, when I get an annoying email from the bosses or when life pushes in a little too close for comfort, I have turned to Kylie. All of a sudden, I am transported from my downtown loft, away from the Mac, the webmasters, and the carbs in the kitchen. I am in a discotheque. I am dancing, wearing this fabulous peach sequiny number I own and wear only on very extra special occasions (it has a cowl neck and a plunging back, super hot). My skin is shimmery, my hair looks great, and my lipstick is perfect. My white teeth glisten in the disco light, and I am wearing strappy stilettos that are SO COMFORTABLE.

I am also surrounded by 400 gay men who are taking turns lifting me in the air as I lip synch the words to the song and smile the M.C.O.G. (McCrumb Original Grin) that shines so bright it borders on evil. It's kind of like the Material Girl video, but the discotheque is dark and has way better lighting that makes my ass look unbelievable.

Yes, lighting can be the secret to having a great ass.

I am also a phenomenal dancer in this fantasy. I am spinning, gyrating, and winking playfully at my audience. There's a little bit of salsa, a smidgeon of ballroom, and drop of hip hop in there, all perfect and appropriate and finely tuned. I am a dancin' machine, really.

And when the songs are over, I plummet back to the Brewery. I sit in my ergonomically perfect chair, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Even a diva like me needs a little rest. Hand me that Fiji water, Enrique, and go oil yourself up. You're looking a little matte.

can't get you out of my head. g