I know I’m probably going to lose some readers when I say this, but so be it. Who knows. Maybe I might even gain some. Either way, I have a contract with myself to be totally smack-you-in-the-face honest on this here blog of mine. And if I’m going to do that I’ve got to be able to tell you dear reader that I deeply, gut wrenchingly dislike Neil Diamond. Some may say that makes me anti-American, anti-happiness, and maybe even anti-rhinestones. I say it makes me anti-skeezy. Anti-creepy. Anti-chest hair flowing out the top of your shirt. Anti-trying to undress me with your eyes. Anti-vomit. Anti-unbuttoning your shirt five buttons down.
I’m not quite sure when I developed a disdain for this so called stud muffin. It’s just in me, written into my mitochondrial DNA. I know that while I was in college I tried very hard to give this guy a chance so I could prove I bled red, white, and blue. I closed my eyes, listened to his version of Sweet Caroline, swayed back and forth like an entranced groupie would do, and nearly passed out because all this activity did for me was make me dizzy. That and I almost choked to death on my own laughter.
I was learning who I truly was during those years, and there was no denying that Neil Diamond had no place in my life. I even went so far as to openly reveal my opinion in the workplace. I worked at a Tutoring Center and we had been given the task to film an informational tutoring video that would help the tutors better connect, befriend, and teach their students. I posed as a student whose roommate blasted Neil Diamond day and night, and the student was on the brink of despair because it was interfering with her study habits. It was a fine performance I guarantee you. It didn’t require much acting on my part though because I could just imagine the anguish this fictional student was feeling. If you can understand it, you can be it. Just a little tip into the craft of acting.
Anyway, my mother, Mother Loops, is going to have a few choice words for me I’m sure. But I just don’t understand this sequined Jewish Elvis. That’s the moniker he’s been given. Like he’s akin to Elvis! Inconceivable. Whatever, she can have her forever in blue jeans baby. To each their own. I will continue to avoid all things Neil Diamond. Yes, this even means American Idol if need be.
I do, however, enjoy a good Will Ferrell impersonation now and then. This I can handle.
On that note, have a lovely weekend my little poopsies. Do not let the hairy chesty picture of Neil Diamond lure you in. Do not look into his eyes longer than two seconds. Stay strong.