Minneapolis Woman's Self-Esteem Plummets in Wake of Muumuu-Provoked Mass Defection

First, all of my so-called "friends" defected and have chosen to side with Shad on a fashion-related issue, the droll irony of which is more than hilarious considering how my spouse's fashion skills involve picking out a t-shirt that matches his jeans. It's good to know I can count on you all when things get rough. Jerks. (And it's not like you all have squeaky-clean records, either.)

Today, despite the obvious tension in the household as a result of the muumuu issue, Shad and I were cleaning together and singing Paula Abdul's "Straight Up" at the top of our lungs. It turns out that both of us know every word to this song (of course); however, we hit a snag in the final verse. We argued vehemently re who had the lines right (an argument that generally ends badly for me, as some history shows ... for example, I thought for years that Bob Dylan was singing "Lay across by big breast babe" (which, I concede, makes no sense at all) when in fact he was saying "big brass bed") and I insisted (of course) I MUST be right, I have known every word of this song for some fifteen years or whatever. This is the kind of argument swiftly resolved by Google. The lyrics in question are:

I don't mean to make demands
But the word and the deed
Go hand in hand
How about some information, please?

I swore that line was "word and the beat." Makes sense, right? This is a dance song. Of course the words and the beat have to go hand in hand. This is humiliating. Now I have to deal with Shad walking around humming Paula Abdul with that smug look on his face while I slink off to the kitchen to fix myself a big ol' plate of crow. I'm going to put my muumuu back on and go out to the patio to read.