All day, well, twice today, The Boy has sent me You Tube links, under the guise of the actual video being something other than what it was.

What it was, was, a Rick Astley video. This one, in particular. Go ahead. Click on it. Rock out to it. You know want to and you know you would if you were five drinks into the mission at a bar with a dance floor. Don't lie.

Apparently, such trickery has a new name, and it's called rickrolling. Our mutual friend, Rachelle, apparently told him this. What I want to know is why this is a bad thing?!?

First of all, you will never get me to believe that Rick Astley is anything but awesome. Those suits! That hair! Those songs! Oh my God - those were some damn fine pop songs and that man could sing. And see, when everyone thought he was a black guy singing, we liked his songs! But when he turned out to be a pasty, freckled white dude from the UK? Not so much. But not me. I loved him always.

My love for Rick Astley was so great that I had a MASSIVE POSTER OF HIM hanging in my bedroom. No joke. I did. It didn't hurt that he was the spitting image of my very first boyfriend and because unless I somehow got my hands on and smuggled in a camera to my 7th grade classroom at St. Mary Nativity, then convince JP and Lynette to develop the film and not look at the pictures, a poster of Rick was as close to a picture of Bobby I was going to get.

So my boyfriend is welcome to send me all of the Rick Astley videos he wants; it's not as if he wasn't aware of my love for Rick Astley in the first place. He's just fanning the flames. And now? Well, now it's not illegal for Rick to give me a call and see what I'm doing.

I'm just saying.

Posted by Erin at 09:37 PM | filed under: Random Stupidity