Geek in Mom's clothing

My geekiest confession (which I only recently revealed, and I am catching all kinds of holy hell for it...)

My name is Trace, and I am a Barry Manilow fan.

Yes, that Barry Manilow, as if there were any other.

I am not a Fanilow, not obsessed, and have no (ok, maybe a little) desire to see him in concert. No, I don't have a crush on him, nor do I find him attractive in any way, shape or form. And although my gaydar is usually waaaaay off, can I just say, uh, "beep beep".

Any given night, you can find me in my kitchen, dancing and singing to a collection of his greatest hits on CD...that's right...Ultimate Manilow, my friends. And, I have mentioned before, I sing loudly. And not well. So much so, that the kids close the playroom door when the show starts. The smallest one will usually do it with a glare, proclaiming, "That hurts my head." I can get them in the kitchen with me when "Copa Cabana" comes on to dance with me. It is quite a scene. We are all afflicted with the White Man's Disease...a.k.a. we can't dance for crap. But, we have a good ol' time regardless.

So, as my sister would say, I have totally stepped off the Cool Train. Although I like Top 20 music, do I love me some Barry songs.

Lord help me if I hear any of the songs on the overhead speakers at Giant. No doubt someone will be blogging about some crazy woman at the grocery store belting out "Mandy" in the cereal aisle.