While the others year 8's were playing Louie Louie in clarinet class, I insisted on learning Hadaway's 'What is Love?' (and 'Ride on Time' by Black Box, but I'm not as proud of that one). Now 20 years on, the passion for this track has died down somewhat, so you can imagine my double displeasure when a) Fitness First decided to stop playing copyrighted music due to the massive tariffs and b) I have to hear a cheesy cover of 'What is Love?' four times a week, before 7am. Vom.
Now, there are only so many things that can distract one from the monotony of all of this RPM cover music. They are listed in no particular order. There's the bike short clad man, who indeed is not the right shape, nor secreting the right fragrance to be wearing such attire. He always rocks up late so i have no way of politely escaping him and sits his sweaty testicles as close to me as possible. There's the rotund lady who usually sits in front of me whose bra is way too big/lacy/agile/non-existent and her nogs swing about like Mr Doo-Bee's bouncing balls, sometimes causing me to lose my balance. Occasionally there's a bloke with nice arms who sits in the front row so i can alternate my attention between him and the two anorexic ladies who should indeed get a good dozen of my lemon ricotta doughnuts up them.
I shouldn't just flag the offensive distractions. There are some pleasant ones too. My instructor Kim is bloody funny and rants on about her sleep-walking kids and how she accidentally took them to Flower Drum for some quick springers, without realising it was actually one of Australia's finest dining Cantonese restaurants. And the intermittent bake exchange with Pam which makes everyone drool as well as drip man juice and nullifies the exercise.
Despite having so many colourful things to preoccupy myself with/protect myself from in RPM classes, I can't help but long for Gunners and Billy Idol, and even Bobby Brown in a weird way. I hate you Copyright Tribunal of Australia. You are dogs and should be put down.
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