Sinner!

Dear Diary,

Today is a dark day in my quest for innocence and purity of heart. In general, I would say I make a conscious (does that make it less worthy?) effort to be a good person. I pay my taxes, hold doors open, assist with strollers on staircases, and give up my seat for old people and/or pregnant women. I should have the ace in the hole when it comes to being good. Maybe I haven't quite reached Mother Teresa status, but I'm doing my part for goodness in humanity. (I must confess that I do enjoy a good shoot-out in a movie, but then I shed the requisite tears for all people killed. I just like the noises and the shattering glass, not the blood, ok? Ask anyone, I am definitely a bleeding heart, if ever there was one.)
So there's the defense of my person. Now here's the crime. (I totally blame this on my iPod, by the way. It seduces me to behaving inappropriately on a regular basis.)
In any case, I was walking down the street, bopping along, stepping to the beat, feeling very alive, energetic, and all things associated with drinking red bull. I have to confess, I was listening to rather embarrassingly crappy music, principally of the pop nature. So anyway, I'm walking along, walking along and then BAM! my groove starts kicking into overdrive because that anthem of youthful sensuality starts pumping in my ear. Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, I am referring to Ms. Spears's dance classic "I'm a slave 4 U." I was invaded by the spirit of the over-sexed Ms. Britney and moving scandalously along my path. I was having all kinds of naughty thoughts about how much fun this song was and how I'd danced to it in the past and how it could be used in various scenarios, etc etc. Basically, I was laughing inwardly about what the talented singer must have been thinking as she gasped and sighed and breathed heavily into the microphone in the studio. Suddenly, I looked up to realize that I was picturing and imagining all of these things while walking past a cathedral, and that's not good. I'm going to hell in a handbasket. Thanks a lot, pop music marketers, MTV, and all you other seducers. I sang about "bab(ies), wanting to dance up on me" right in front of God's house. Ah, crap.
Then, I cursed vehemently, which did not help the situation.

Musically whorish me.