Lame? Yes.

Something very bizarre has happened.

A few weeks ago Duddy and I were at Lily Nails getting tandem pedicures when I noticed that the kindly Vietnamese owners had procured a rather fancy looking television. Would we like to watch a DVD while our callouses were buffed and obliterated? Yes, yes we would. Well on came the Celine Dion DVD so I gave my obligatory eye roll, "God, she is soooo laaaame", etc. Then a funny thing happened. I found myself not only enjoying her performance but actually feeling something. Like my soul had been touched. Feeling somewhat ashamed, I tried to attribute this reaction to another scenario entirely.
Bear with me.
My mother and John would have dinner parties almost every weekend. She would cook all day, take a nap in the afternoon and drink all night with her friends, not a bad way to live, I might add. Before the guests arrived she would put on the music while John made the bruscetta. There was always bruscetta. My mom rotated between 2 cds, Loreena McKennitt and Celin Dion, both lame and both total Mom music.
Back to Lily Nails. Could it be that hearing the Celine Dion brings back painful memories of my departed mother? I'd like to think so. You see, the problem is, I actually like some of her music. Fuck me. So I can't dredge up a whole bunch of dead mother stuff and blame it on that, which would be convenient. I'm just going to have to face the fact that I am lame and might have shitty taste in music.