Valentine’s Day

Last year around this time, Precariously Perky Julie devised a particularly brutal Jazzercise set. It was full of what my husband refers to as “Man-Hater” songs. Songs with lots of punching and kicking to lyrics like “Why’d you lie to me…good for nothing type of brother” (Anastacia) and “I’m not in love” (not the original by 10 CC but a remake).

The Queen of Pain used to have sets like this back during the unfortunate phase between He Whose Name Cannot be Uttered and when she found her True Love.

PPJ roared and  foamed at the mouth while teaching this set. At the time, I thought we really needed to find poor PPJ a man because we were all paying the price for what the last one had done–she like to put me in traction. I started to blog about it, but, then I thought, the poor girl is obviously upset about a recent breakup, so I didn’t.

Fast forward to this year’s Valentine’s Day set. Same songs. Same growling. Same pain. At one pint, she shouted, “Angry hips!” WTF? I allowed as how this set seemed familiar, and I asked her, “Jules, are you mad at the same man from last year, or is this a new one?”

“ALL MEN!” she howled.

Hmm… this explains it. Women who look like Julie are without a man for one of three reasons: One, their romantic interests are not of the masculine variety (pretty sure that’s not the case here); Two, they have some sort of screw loose, and no matter how gorgeous they are, they keep running men off (you know, women who boil rabbits and such–again, not the case–PPJ is a sweetheart when she’s not kicking our rear ends); or, Three, some jackass has put them off men for good. They simply have decided they do not want another man, have adopted multiple cats, and watch a lot of reality TV.

This is our Julie.

This situation is not irreversible, but it requires a special man to repair the damage done to a woman’s psyche after she has been jackassed. I’m thinking that the clientele of Jazzercise of Taylors should perhaps mount a search before next Valentine’s Day. And, round up a posse to hunt down whoever did this to PPJ. We are paying for his jackassery.

Time for my aspirin…