Humor

Some Completely Random Thoughts Concerning a Certain Situation, Partially Inspired by Old-School Music Lyrics and Mostly of No Relevance Whatsoever


Digging in the archives, once again…


Okay, this one is a bit loopy, even for me, but I swear it’s not the result of my over-imbibing this evening, despite a recent run of posts that chronicled an endless cautionary tale about my fondness for libations. I will admit to possibly over-consuming a startling amount of mixed-berry cheesecake, so it’s entirely possible that I’m in the midst of a glucose reaction. We may never know. In any case, the challenge with this ditty is to see how many song references you can identify. (My apologies to the more youthful readers, as said references are definitely dated.) Enjoy.


I went to a garden party…

Well, it wasn’t really a garden party, per se, but it was a party and we walked through a nicely-landscaped front lawn in order to reach the door wherein the party was being held. There were plants and birds and rocks and things, but it felt good to be out of the rain once we got to that door. (Yes, it’s been a rainy night in Georgia, I mean Dallas, and no one really wants to arrive at a party in the midst of such. Yes, people of my age appreciate the opportunity to appear dewy and fresh, but not to the point of looking like a toothless, bearded hag in a cross-fire hurricane.)

Once inside the domicile, I was no longer all by myself, but was instead surrounded by people who wanted to teach the world to sing. (Truth be told, my partner was with me throughout the ordeal, but he’s always there, many seasons in the sun, and I’ve never been to me, or so it seems, it’s been such a long time.) There were a few folks in the kitchen attempting to prep barbecue for the impending repast (they stabbed it with their steely knives, but they just couldn’t kill the beast), but most of the crowd was going their own way and trying to get back to where they once belonged.

“Welcome,” said one of our hosts, surprisingly teary-eyed at our arrival. “So glad you could come, despite this wretched weather, girls.”

Me: “Well, I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain, but I never expected someone to play misty for me.” I brandished one of the things we had brought with us. “To sir, with love.”

Host: “Oh, an American pie. How thoughtful of you.” (I thought it unnecessary to mention that we had snatched up said pie at Costco a mere hour before our arrival. Signed, sealed, delivered, it’s yours.)

Other Host wanders in, slightly flushed. “Everybody’s talking at me, I can’t hear a word they’re saying. Something’s happening here.”

First Host: “Well, maybe if you weren’t sucking down the White Rabbit Beaujolais like a Rhinestone Cowboy you might remember the morning after.”

Other Host: “I don’t know how to love him.”

First Host: “You and me and a dog named Boo. Players only love you when they’re playing.”

Me, despite the fact that I was born to run, tried to stop this calliope from crashing to the ground: “So anyway, who else tied a ribbon around this old oak tree of a party?”

First Host: “Well, Beth is here.”

From another room, Beth: “I hear you calling, but I can’t come home to the kitchen right now.”

Other Host: “And Beulah is here.”

First Host: “Her name is Julie. Are you sailing away to Key Largo again?”

Other Host: “Oh, right. Sorry, I’ve been smoking in the boy’s room.”

First Host: “I knew it! It’s always all about you and the head games. You can leave me now, and you won’t take away the biggest part of me.”

Other Host: “If I can’t have you, I don’t want nobody, baby.”

Me: “Seriously, guys, let’s talk about something else, like all the lonely people who showed up at your YMCA and just want to rock the Casbah.”

My Partner: “Tiny Dancer, that is perhaps the most wretched line you have ever contemplated including in one of your inane blog posts. Stop, in the name of love, before you break my heart.”

Not Julie, wandering in from that other room where people are presumably having more adult conversations: “I don’t mean to make the earth move under your feet, but we’re not sure what that dip is on the coffee table. We don’t know if it’s green or it’s blue, although there’s something in the way it moves me. Still, it’s a tragedy and the feeling’s gone.”

Other Host: “Well, you’re just one hot child in the city.”

Not Julie: “That’s a completely inappropriate response, although I do feel like I’m looking wild and looking pretty. Still, can you fat-bottomed girls start lookin’ for some hot stuff, maybe tonight? We’re hungry and we won’t stop believing that real food is more than just a misty, water-colored memory in our minds.”

Me: “I don’t even know where to take this story now. I’ve worked myself into a hole.”

Partner: “And that’s why your blog is known as the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.”

Me: “You mean Ella Fitzgerald, right?”

Partner: “Oh, honey. No.”


There are 50 song references in this mess, unless I accidentally created additional tributes. How many did you get?


Previously published, slight modifications made. And yes, at the time I originally cobbled this mess together, I had recently attended a garden party, wherein our friend Beth DID show up, and my always-writing-stories-in-my-head mind certainly took notes. Oftentimes, it’s the tiny, obscure seed that eventually proffers the best fruit.

And I suppose I should mention that I added a few more song references, bringing us to 53. Should I add another one, so we can get to Studio 54?

Okay, I’ll stop now.

Maybe. I can’t drive 55.

See? It’s a loop that never ends, Mobius…


35 replies »

  1. As someone whose internal bulb flickered only at “Seasons in the Sun”, I can solemnly testify that none of it makes any sense. 😂
    Great idea though. My fingers are itching to plagiarise. 😄

    Liked by 3 people

    • You are SPOT on. Julie sang those lyrics in the scene wherein she was greatly disgruntled by the wretched waitress she encountered at “Ye Olde Tea Shoppe and Codfish Emporium” in the West End. Of course, that scene was cut from the final print of the film, so I’m assuming you’ve perused a bootleg copy of the original rough cut. Good eye!

      Like

      • Yes, I was fortunate to receive a pre-release copy here in Orstralia for my advice on. (Having given good advice on things filmic before they seem to like me). I said I didn’t think the greatly-disgruntled-wretched waitress scene would go down well with the kiddies. After all it is a family film. I think you would agree it was good advice. (which they took) We wouldn’t want crying kiddies all over the cinema would we?…..

        Liked by 1 person

    • Must confess: I sense a song reference at the end of your comment, but I’m not sure of the association. Is it the counting song on “Sesame Street”? Is it a bawdy limerick? Is it a song that should I should clearly know but the name bell-ringing is flying over my head right now? (And yes, I’m going to be supremely embarrassed if it’s part of the lyrics of a song I just quote above.) Sigheth…

      Liked by 1 person

      • You are totally right, but nothing to be worried about (your faculties are fine, I think, no head flying going on. 😉 ) The line is “baby, don’t make me
        count, count, count, count, count, count, count, count, count your money,” from “Count,” by Ashanti. Not terribly creative, but it fits your theme. 🙂

        Like

  2. Got them. ALL. Do I get an award for doing that? Or is it just further evidence that I spend too much time listenin’ to the radio *koff koff* YouTube these days. Radio is another dated term that many in the wet ears seats won’t understand even if you show them a radio. Aw. It’s old-time rock n roll for me.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Of course you get an award: My unending respect and affection for you. (Awww…)

      Now, the radio thing. Times sure were different decades ago when the radio was our only source of music, aside from a few albums and 45s we owned, if we could afford them. There was no “instant” gratification, as we would have to wait for HOURS before we heard the exact same we wanted to hear. Then it was another half a day before we got another fix. But we were happy to hear them when we could.

      In a related vein, the singers and music groups had to EARN a following, with years of endless gigs in crappy joints across the country. Now? An obscure “musician” can upload one song to the Tube of You and suddenly have 4 million followers. And the singer doesn’t even have to be good, they just have to be in the right place at the right time…

      Like

  3. I admit to 47 before my lyric saturated brain screamed ‘enough!’ and could no longer add it up; Man, you can ramble on once something starts you up. (An easy three back atcha.)

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Wow, every word seems to be an allusion to a song and I know none of them. If I google, I probably can identify one or two. And there is really a song called “Crossfire Hurricane”. I guessed right. And “rock the casbah” too. And casbah means a citadel in a North African city. Haha. And “Born to Run”. “Cheesecake” LOL.However I feel the futility of this exercise for me since I don’t know these songs and I am not musical at all. There’s so much one doesn’t know…

    Liked by 2 people

    • Yes, this one is quite difficult if one wasn’t listening to American (and some British) music in the 60s and 70s (with a sprinkle of 80s). And if if one WAS listening, I have an inordinate fondness for lyrics, so I often recall phrases that someone else might not catch even if they’re heard the referenced song many times.

      Thank you for trying, though. And really, if I listed out the actual titles for these songs, I think you would recognize many more than you realize. Sometimes, I just get too deep in the weeds with the trivia… 😉

      Liked by 1 person

    • You’re exactly right. (Thanks for upping the ante on our total references. I think we’re at 64 or some such by now in the commentary.)

      I miss those faded and long ago rainbow bars where the only music source was the jukebox. And that thing would be playing all night and folks would sing along. (And I must admit that jukeboxes in the girl bars usually had a much better selection than the boy bars.) Sure, I spent my fair share of time in loud and trashy discos, but I much preferred the laid-back bars where people actually had conversations, discussions that were sometimes interrupted so we could all warble along with Janis and Laura and Dusty and Patsy and… well, I’m sure you remember…

      Like

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