Being Mary J.

January 14, 2009

If there's one thing that I simply cannot resist, it's Mary J. Blige and Bono wrapped into one sizzlin' hot package. No no, I can only wish that they were having a baby together--but if it were to happen, they should name her Shebang. Don't you think?

So no, as far as I know, Shebang Blige will not grace the cover of People Magazine any time soon, but Mary J. and Bono have still managed to produce something ragingly fabulous--a duet of the old U2 song "One."

Now I'm not sure if you're a music fan like me, but the combination of her sexalicious voice and his sexalicious voice makes me cough up my chocolate milk and mess my pants every single time.

Really. It's that good.

Now I've had this song on my iPod for six or seven months, but somehow it never ever seems to get old. On the contrary, it almost seems to gain an element of greatness as it ages--like fancy wine, or expensive cheese, or a roll of Smarties in the chest pocket of my winter coat.

Last night, as I was chugging along on my stationary bike, I was really happy when my song came on. After all, I was twenty-seven minutes into my workout and it was starting to seem more than a little monotonous--you can only convince yourself that you're Lance Armstrong for so many minutes, ya know?

So now I could be Mary J.

As soon as I heard the intro music, I sat up straight, cleared my throat, and told myself what I tell myself everyday: Amy, you are smooth and sultry and attitudy. Amy, it doesn't matter what they say, you can sing. (and you don't deserve to be fired, either).

I picked up the pace considerably--because a good song will do that--and turned my workout into something of a voice lesson. I'd listen to Mary J. sing a line (like an angel with some snap), then I'd pause my iPod and try to copy her exactly. Then I'd rewind and try the whole thing over again. And then I'd do it again.

Finally, after fifteen minutes of this exercise in vocal precision, I decided to sing the whole song one time through. So I went for it. I closed my eyes and belted out as much as I could muster in the midst of a spinning session--and I was pushing it hard.

I sang, I huffed, and I wiped my forehead with the hem of my shirt three or four times.

When the song finally ended, I opened up my eyes to downshift, and you'll never guess what I saw planted firmly in front of me.

Seriously, you'll never guess.

I saw that Mormon missionary--who's really growing on me, I just can't help it--standing in my den, smiling his big old Utah smile, giving me the double thumbs up.

Apparently the dynamic duo was feeling a little bit cold and a little bit hungry, so they landed on our doorstep looking for some heat and leftovers. I was too busy, too 'caught up in the moment' if you will, to hear the knock on the door, so my husband answered it on my behalf.

The missionaries were like, "Hi Brother Lawson."

And Jared was like, "Dude, come stand here and stare at my wife until she opens her eyes. She'll think it's funny."

Yes. Truly hilarious.

And on that note, I hope Jared thinks it's funny when I send the IRS into his office later this afternoon.