Dancing is really the only form of exercise that I enjoy. That’s why Zumba was so perfect for me. I knew I was tired, but I didn’t care. I was happy. I knew I’d be sore later, and that only made it better.

In fact, Zumba was better than club dancing on many levels: First of all, you’re wearing appropriate shoes. Secondly, there aren’t a lot of creepy dudes coming up to you and being weirdos.

When I hear a song that moves me, I can’t help it: I get down with my bad self. The other day, at my sister’s, I started to hit it and Daphne forbade me even to start. Hopefully, some of that had to do with the fact that their neighbor David was over and sitting right beside her as she played Minecraft (although now that I’ve seen his and TJ’s movie trailer, I don’t think that boy would judge me at all).

I don’t know that I have any skills, but I certainly feel it.

When I was taking D to camp last summer, we found a dance station on the road and I loved it. Their play list was pretty limited, and in the two hours we had the channel, I heard the same songs 3 or 4 times.

Now that we live down here, we get the channel. And I want to like the music so much, because it’s fun and conducive to the rhythmic gyrations I so adore.

But here’s the deal: The LYRICS! Good gravy, it’s the worst. Here’s a sampling of the songs we’re hearing right now:

“I only came here for 2 Reasons,
I-IIII can’t lie (Whatcha came for)
I only came for the ladies and the drinks (Uh-huh),
Ladies and the drinks,Ladies and the drinks (That Right)
For the la-la, Ca-Came for the ladies and the drinks (Uh-huh)
Ladies and the drinks,Ladies and the drinks
(Alright) (Baby Whatcha Came For)
(Aahh) Baby get ya glass up (Get Ya Glass Up)
I only came for the ladies and the drinks
Baby get ya ass up (Get Ya Ass Up)
That’s what I came for (Yeahhh)”

Brilliant, right?

At least that’s better than “Tonight I’m Lovin’ You,” which I learned recently is the edited version. Yeah. Some guy meets a lady in the club (I mean, yeah, he’s Enrique Iglesias, but still…) and his opening line is, “Please excuse me, I don’t mean to be rude but tonight I’m effing you.”

Ohhhh, no. You’re getting a knee to the groin and a bunch of keys in the stomach, and if you don’t run off, there’s more where that came from. AND some pepper spray- no, wait. That’s my inhaler. But after I take a hit off of THAT, you’re going to be sorry.

I won’t type the lyrics to “Did It On ‘Em” by Nicki Minaj. Feel free to look it up. Even if you’re not easily offended by “colorful” language, you should be offended that this is the subject matter of songs. A comedian recently said that if someone was bragging about how much money they had and how awesome they were, we’d hate them for being jerks, but if you lay it down over a beat box and some 80s sample, we eat it up.

Well, I don’t. This is arrogant and insipid, it objectifies women (both men and women do this), and I don’t understand why they can’t write meaningful lyrics.

I was going to say “anymore,” but it’s not a “these days” thing. I heard a song last night that I guessed to be much older than it was because of the rich lyric picture painted by the writer. I just looked, and the song came out this millennium.

The chorus goes:

“But you got that special kind of sadness
you got that tragic set of charms
that only comes from time spent in Los Angeles
makes me wanna wrap you in my arms”

Thing is, the song is really folksy. It’s pretty, but why can’t people who write secular dance music make it about more than getting down and dirty in the bathroom at a disco or flaunting your superiority (or feces)?

Anyone have any good hip-hop or dance suggestions that aren’t complete brain cell killers?

Meanwhile, enjoy this.