Even the Nights are Better

It had been a long, hot, fun, but trying 4th of July weekend.
Sunday night rolls around, I'm ready to hit the sack, but decide to check the forecast on the local news first. I grab the TV remote, fire up the tube, and am immediately accosted by THIS:



My initial reaction was one of horror, disbelief, and a panicked thought of reliving the 70's. History repeats itself, they say. Please, Dear God, oh please, not THAT decade...

It was a barrage of shaggy mullets, raging lambchops, and unbuttoned silk shirts, all of which scream "I'm a Love Machine!" in a just got done tokin' a doobie sort of way. The unplugged Air Supply reminiscing really added a faggy, "I've just been violated!" touch to the scene. After a couple minutes of staring at this horrific display, I realized something: I was still watching.

Even worse, my gag reflex was easing up.

Please don't tell anyone, but I even found myself humming along and taking mini-trips back to warm, dusty backroads with the 8 track blaring in our '77 Olds Tornado. Yes, our Tornado was brown, just like any other respectable 70's vehicle. Was my stomach turning because I used to get carsick in the back seat of that boat or because of the music on the TV?

Regardless, this was an embarrassingly guilty pleasure and sat on the end of the bed to really get the full effect of the infomercial. I was just losing myself in the saxophone of Chicago's "Saturday...in the park...I think it was the 4th of July..." when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye - Mrs. MNWildman walked in. I was busted.

In a flurry of nerves, adrenaline, and shame, I tried to cover for myself. "Can you believe this crap? Isn't this disgusting...and hilarious...?" as I pointed at the screen. The last words were still hanging on my tongue when I looked again, and was mesmerized by the piano behind Benny Mardones "Into the Night".

Without turning my head back to Mrs. MNWildman, I confessed, "...and I really like it."

I felt gay. In fact, I felt so disgusting that I had to go shower before bed...but I couldn't stop humming those tunes while I washed up.

Oh well.

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Have half an hour to kill? Take the gag-reflex test and try watching all 3 segments...without ordering the CD collection.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3