It’s time for Pitbull.

Everyone has things they do when they start feeling vulnerable, weak maybe. Some have affirmations, ways to boost the ego, embolden themselves against the cruelty of the world. I have music and sometimes I need Pitbull.

I know, it’s not something I freely admit, but it is the truth. His music, productions, whatever they are called, have self-confidence in spades. It doesn’t matter that he always says he’s Mr. Worldwide or that most of his lyrics are absurd. He’s all about a feeling. When I need to bring up the badass, more than I’m capable of in my skin, Pit usually does the trick.

Who else can sing, “My life’s a movie, call me Martin Scorcese” or “I don’t play football, but I touch down everywhere.” or a personal favorite, “Thank you, haters.”

He’s a from-the-bottom-up kind of guy, so when I feel tiny or stepped on or people are mean, I listen to “Pause” or “Time of Our Lives” and I suddenly have a pinkie ring too.

If I’ve got Pitbull and an open freeway, I can get myself all the way up to worn leather jacket with a cigarette dangling from my painted red lips.

Isn’t music wonderful that way? I’m not sure what I’d do without it. So many different moods and boosts to the everydayness of life.

There are about seven Pitbull songs on this playlist. If that doesn’t do the trick, I’ll move to my emergency plan. Pink. No one screws with me when I’m hopped up on Pink.

My thoughts from the laundry room. Shut it Down.

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