Posts tagged ‘songs’

Suppressed Memories and Other Tales: Counting

31 May, 2018 | | No Comment

A long, long time ago, by which I mean ‘before Facebook,’ we had some kids.  These days, those kids are all teenagers, but that wasn’t always the case!  They were young, even like unto babies, and SOBUMD and I were completely new at parenting.  (These days we’re such old hats at parenting that we run seminars.  And by seminars, I mean about recreational alcoholism.)

But the point is that there are stories that were missed, because we were too freaked out to write them down, fill in the little embellishments, add the filigree, and post them, and also because we weren’t blogging at the time.  Also, blogging wasn’t much of a thing back then, but that’s less of an excuse.  And so, I’m going to try to add a few True Tales From the Crypt of Early Parenthood.

We will begin with Counting.

One day, when the kids were small, we had a playdate with friends who had small kids as well.  By small, think 4 or 5 or so.  My kids were running around with blocks and singing songs.  Their kids were running around with balls and singing songs.  We and our friends were sitting around with drinks and talking about how tired we were.  We got on the topic of knowing their numbers and how much fun it is to watch them struggle with the digits, and I had to go open my big mouth and show how smart the Human Tape Recorder was.  “Hey, come over here and show how you count to ten!”  (Our friends were also techies, just so that’s understood.)

HTR:  “Sure!  0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, A, B, C, D, E, F, 10!”

They were duly impressed.  Having learned to count in hexadecimal before learning basic math is probably why she hasn’t scored less than a 97% on any given math test.  (She’s now in college studying math that would Einstein barf.)

Suddenly, a voice from the din:  “Hey, I know!  Let’s sing the Counting Song!”

All the kids decided this was a wonderful thing, since it seemed all the kids knew the counting song.  “You know the counting song?”

“Yeah!”

“Great!”

And with no further prompting and no accompaniment required, the other kids started singing:  “Well, there’s 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 wheels on a Big Rig!  And they’re Rolling, rolling, rolling; Rolling, rolling, rolling…”

They trailed off.  My kids looked at them like they’d just sprouted an extra head and some kind of a 4-headed, country-truck-song-singing quadruped had just landed on the carpet.  “THAT’s not the counting song!” said mine, with the indignant authority of a 5-year old who knows her numbers.  “Ours goes like this:”

And just before they started to sing, I realized what the counting song was.  Too late.

“I take one, one, one ’cause you left me
And two, two, two for my family
And three, three, three for my heartache
And four, four, four for my headache
And five, five, five for my lonely
And six, six, six for my sorrow
And seven, seven – no tomorrow
And eight, eight, I forget what eight was for
But nine, nine, nine for a lost god
And ten, ten, ten, ten for everything, everything, everything, everything!”

I was torn between proud and horrified, and settled for a kind of horrible pride.  Our friends allowed as how that was the funniest thing they’d ever heard, really, but oh look at the time, we need to be going, let’s pack it up guys.  For reasons that were never made entirely clear, there were no further playdates.  I’m sure it went down in our permanent record somewhere.

So, let this be a lesson to all you young parents – if you don’t teach your kids about numbers, the Violent Femmes will.  I leave you with both songs, so you can do your own side-by-side comparison.  Or, teach your kids to count.  But not in Hex.


(Trout Fishing in America)

 


(Violent Femmes)

 

Merry Christmas: Go Home, Winter, You’re Drunk!

24 December, 2015 | | 2 Comments

Well, the year got away from me.  I know, it’s been a while, and I’m hoping to be a little more present and active in 2016.  In the mean time, I know that you haven’t forgotten me, since many of you ping me about not posting, and rest assured that I never forget you, dear friend and gentle reader.

In the spirit of the holiday season, and in honor of the many friends who are sharing, with me, the 72-degree Christmas weather here on the East Coast, I give to you a NEW holiday song, a new Christmas Carol, with which to brighten your snowy Yuletide evenings.  (And yes, I’m shamelessly cross-posting from Free Range Poetry!)

It’s called, of course, Go Home, Winter, You’re Drunk!

The holidays are jolly, hanging wreathes and hoisting holly
with the reindeer and the snowmen standing guard
The Christmas season’s calling as the mercury is falling
From Baltimore to Boston’s Harvard Yard

T’is the season to be freezin’ while we shovel ’round our hovels
And we’ll celebrate the Winter, young and old
But the temperature’s not dropping, while we’re out here Christmas shopping
‘Cause this Winter doesn’t seem to like the cold!

Go Home, Winter, You’re Drunk! I’ll toss your coat back into the trunk.
Autumn’s riding shotgun, cause Springtime has the keys
Winter’s in the backseat with its head between its knees
Summer’s gonna hold your hair / while you toss snowballs everywhere
Go Home, Winter, You’re Drunk!

Frosty’s sipping boat drinks, singing songs about the ice rinks
and I guess the weather’s really lost its head
The elves are all in short sleeves and the snowman’s having dry heaves
Won’t someone put this Wintertime to bed?

This Christmas is so green it’s blue, cause Winter’s got the Irish flu
and the snowplows and the road crew’s out of work
The Solstice and it’s 82 / degrees, and I am telling you
Twelve beers has made this Wintertime a jerk!

Go Home, Winter, You’re Drunk! I’ll toss your coat back into the trunk.
Autumn’s riding shotgun, cause Springtime has the keys
Winter’s in the backseat with its head between its knees
Summer’s gonna hold your hair / while you toss snowballs everywhere
Go Home, Winter, You’re Drunk!

Winter’s just might sober up
the snowfall forecast’s climbing
and we might just get some inches after all
It looks like things will whiten up
Shame about the timing
‘Cause it ain’t gonna snow here till next fall!

Go Home, Winter, You’re Drunk! I’ll toss your coat back into the trunk.
Autumn’s riding shotgun, cause Springtime has the keys
Winter’s in the backseat with its head between its knees
Summer’s gonna hold your hair / while you toss snowballs everywhere
Go Home, Winter, You’re Drunk!
Go Home, Winter, You’re Drunk!

 

So, that’s the good news.  The bad news is that I’m writing a dozen more and I’ll have a Big Ugly Christmas Album out for next year!  Happy Holidays to you all, and to all, a Good Night!

 

Take Me Where?

8 July, 2014 | | 2 Comments

Hey, yes, I know, it’s been forever.  Or at least, far too long.  As always, time gets away from me, and things get complicated.  In any event, this was worth sharing.

You might not be surprised to hear this, but I’m the kind of guy who walks around singing a lot.  This is somewhat unfortunate, considering my singing voice, but still.  Considering my advanced age, it probably won’t surprise you that many of the songs that I walk around singing are, shall we say, less than current.   Yesterday, while getting out the door to go shopping for cat food, Coke, and a 16-foot long 2×12 (you should see our dinners), I found myself singing Eddie Money’s “Take Me Home Tonight,” which I must have heard on the radio recently, since I seem to remember some of the words.

“I can feel your heart beat faster / Take me home tonight / I don’t want to let you go ’til we see the light / Take me home tonight…”

Whereupon Number One Son, in all his 14-yr-old glory, looks at me and interjects, “Well, OK, but you could at least buy me dinner first.”

 Fourteen years old and he’s still making me say, “Huh?”

I leave you with Eddie, Ronnie, and the ’80s. But please, buy her dinner first.

 

 

 

I’m not out of touch…

19 April, 2014 | | 3 Comments

I’m just 30 years out of sync.

Number One Son has been asking me to walk to the local park with him for a few days, and this morning seemed like a good time.  I brought my coffee, he brought an apple, and we got there in record time.  This works well for a morning activity, since he gets to swing as long and as high as he likes, and I get to sit quietly and watch him and the birds while I have my coffee – it’s almost like having a deck, except 3 blocks away.

Anyway, after building up a good head of steam swinging, he decided he was done with that, and came over to my bench with his phone.  “Here, you have to listen to this.  Do you know Radioactive?”

“Yes,” said I, “I know the song Radioactive.”

“Cool.”  And he played a parody of the song, set in the Portal videogame world, something about being a non-defective turret.  Or being a defective turret.  Or something.  He kept watching my face for a reaction.

“Sound familiar?”

“No.”

“Getting anything?”

“Really, no.  I’m not familiar with this.”

Big sigh.  “Daaaaad, that’s why I *asked* you if you knew the song Radioactive!”

“Son, I do know the song Radioactive.  It’s just a different song.”  Since we’re both walking around with phones, I whipped out mine to play it for him – and realized as soon as I searched for it that he’s thinking about a band called Imagine Dragons, while Dinosaur Dad is stuck in 1985 looking for The Firm.  If you’re a little more recently plugged in than I am, you probably already know it’s not a remake.

I played him mine:  “Got to concentrate / Don’t be distractive / Turn me loose tonight / ‘Cause I’m radioactive.”

He played me his:  “I’m waking up, I feel it in my bones / Enough to make my systems blow / Welcome to the new age, to the new age / Welcome to the new age, to the new age / Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I’m radioactive, radioactive.”

Welcome to the new age, indeed.  Not my thing, maybe, but not bad.  Number One Son conceded that 1985 might have rocked as well.  We leave the final analysis to you!

The Old…

 

And the New!

Not Bad – For a Monday

13 January, 2014 | | 1 Comment

OK, this came to me driving in to work this morning, and as usual I felt the need to inflict this on share this with you all!  I’m blatently cross-posting from Free Range Poetry, where it can be found at http://www.freerangepoetry.com/?p=149.  Also, you need to remember – Jimmy Buffet is singing this to you.  Not me.  As you read it, imagine Jimmy Buffet singing it.  In fact, if any of you know Jimmy Buffet, please point this out to him and let him know it’s for sale! 

Without further ado…

“How ya doin’?”

“Oh, I’m not bad…  For a Monday.”

Well I’m not bad for a Monday
I could use another Sunday
I need a weekend with One More Day
But even if I had it I know I’d say
That I’m not bad … for a Monday.

—————–

I got into the office and it’s too damn loud
My feet are on the floor but my head’s in a cloud
And the prospect of the work-week has my spirit cowed
But I’m not bad – for a Monday

And my wallet’s empty but my head is full
Of angry squirrels, with maracas, and no sense of timing
But I’m OK.  Not bad, really. 
For a Monday.

Well I’m not bad for a Monday
I can’t remember much of Sunday
I need a weekend with One More Day
But even if I had it I know I’d say
That I’m not bad … for a Monday.

—————–

Well the weekend was a blur, it went by so fast
My arm’s in a sling and my leg’s in a cast
And I don’t really know what was in that pipe they passed
But I’m not bad for a Monday

My ex won an Oscar for playing herself
In a movie she wrote about what a jerk I am
But that’s all right.  Not bad, really. 
For a Monday.

Well I’m not bad for a Monday
I can’t remember much of Sunday
I need a weekend with One More Day
But even if I had it I know I’d say
That I’m not bad … for a Monday.

—————–

Friday it all started out so well
Half a case of beer for our thirsts to quell
Who could guess how fast it would all go to hell
But I’m not bad for a Monday.

I don’t think that beer was half the problem since we were OK until
My half-brother’s sister’s cousin showed up with that Tequila,
But we forgive him.  It’s OK.  Not bad, really. 
For a Monday.

Well I’m not bad for a Monday
I could’ve lived without Sunday
I need a weekend with One More Day
But even if I had it I know I’d say
That I’m not bad … for a Monday.

I don’t remember much of Sunday
I need a weekend with One More Day
But even if I had it I know I’d say
That I’m not bad … for a Monday.
Yeah, I’m not bad … for a Monday.