I have to talk about something right now. After years and years and years of sacrificing my ears to the song "Low" by Flo-Rida (not to be confused with the place your grandparents retire to play raquet sports), I have realized that unfortunately I will never be the girl that this gentleman with the strangely geographic name(and his friend T-Pain, which I can only imagine means Total Pain or Testicular Pain or Teflon Pan) desires.
It starts out well --- he calls his dream woman Shorty (or Shawty if you want to get Phonetic about it). I'm thinking this is great, he wants a short woman. I'm short and I don't mind being addressed according to my physical features. So far, it's looking like there is going to be a Fox/Rida Wedding. It's going to be great, because obviously he is going to be taller than me and the pictures will be great. He loves diamonds (which he refers to as bling), so he would obviously want me to have a lot of diamonds as well. So pretty much after the first word of the song, I am already planning the wedding...
...And then something bad happens...He doesn't just want a Shorty (me), he wants a Shorty with Apple Bottom Jeans and boots with fur? Way to be particular. First of all, I didn't know what an apple bottom jean was, so I had to look it up on urban dictionary which is my favourite website. Apparently they are jeans for women with large posteriors. And they are designed by Nelly who actually sings my favourite rap song:
I love this song because he talks (raps) about Street Sweepers, Smokin on dubs, Cocoa Puffs AND Donald Trump. AND he refers to rollin in a Range Rover and a beemer, which means the man has great taste. I only wonder if him and Donald sometimes roll in a street sweeper while smokin on dubs and muchin on cocoa puffs.
Apparently they are designed for all shapes and sizes of women. But I'm pretty sure that "all" is not inclusive of my sized booty. It is pretty small. In fact, I have a hard time fitting my booty into jeans for people without large posteriors from the likes of J.Crew and Madewell --- even Seven for All Mankind make my tush look like a drowning firefly.
And then we've got "the boots with the fur." Now, if you refer back to my post, you will see that I do love boots. I love Riding boots, I love motorcycle boots, and I love Uggs on cold nights when my toes are about to freeze off. The boots with the fur? I don't really love those so much, and thus I don't wear them. I don't understand the appeal of wearing what looks like a dead fluffy dog on your feet (although I hear you can get them in every colour of the rainbow - to match every pair of ABJs you have)...
At this point, I'm kind of waiting for Michael Buble to show up and start singing "Lyndsey got them Citizens of Humanity jeans and the tory burch flats..." Because that's how out of fashion I feel. I feel hurt that Flo wouldn't consider me a good match because of my choice in denim and footwear. I feel like getting down and begging, "But Flo, we both love tattoos and diamonds, this has to work!"
But it's okay. we're only one line into the song, I still feel like some hope exists.
BUT THEN --- he starts talking about baggy sweatpants and reeboks with the strap? Baggy sweatpants? Reeboks? Listen to me, Flo. You have to make up your mind. First you want my butt to look as big as possible in my apple bottom jeans and now you want me to wear baggy sweatpants to accentuate my lack of assage even more? Well guess what? I am a liberated woman and I am not going to bow to your every whim. If I want to wear Lululemon yoga pants and the Nikes with the swoosh....well then that's what I'm going to wear. I'm not going to let you dictate my activewear. I only let the skinny blonde women at the gym do that to me. I hate that this is what you want from a woman, Flo. We could have been so happy with our diamonds and love of Jimmy Hendrix.
I am flexible, which is one of his next specifications -- but I don't think that I would use that talent in the way that he wants a woman to use it. I mean I got really excited when he was talking about birthday cakes, because as you all know I am a pretty good baker..but then I realized that most people do not talk about birthday cakes as a plural and he may be using that to illustrate a part of the female anatomy. I appreciate his creativity, and his taste in desserts...he could have said cinnabons, and then we really would have been over.
We've got another problem only a few words later. He wants me to drink X&O...which maybe he thinks that I really enjoy because I sign everything with X's and O's. But he doesn't really know me or else he would know that the only brown liquor I drink is Canadian Club, and I only drink it when I have a sore throat and because I love their ads.
I would probably never drink cognac...Although I do love those purple bags that Crowne Royale come in...We used to have them in the house all the time growing up. And even worse, I would hope that if Flo and I ever met, he would know to order me a bluecoat gimlet. But I fear that this is not the case.
And right when Flo gets me back with "Patron on the rocks," he loses me again by likening food, drink, and automobile to sexual positions. And I feel for my friends who drive any type of Rover, because I will always feel like a 70s porn star when I ride in them from now on. And he never mentions a Subaru, Saab, or Volvo so he really doesn't know what he's missing.
Flo, every time I listen to your song, I feel like a woman who will never be desired. Maybe you could learn to love me for who I am with my Citizens for All Humanity Jeans, Tory Burch Flats, Men's Oxford Shirt? Maybe you could even write a song about sexual positions that remind you of a subaru? I think it would be wonderful if you and Amy Ray and Emily Saliers could collaborate. I could totally see a songwriters circle happening.
Maybe I read into your opening line too much. Maybe you shouldn't lead a girl on so much. Maybe instead of shorty, you could say "short girl who has a big booty and likes Reeboks." If you had said that, I wouldn't have gotten my hopes up. You're an asshole for leading me on.
Maybe I'm not your type, but would you mind sending me some diamonds anyway?