Tag Archives: songs

‘Twas Days Before Christmas…

… and clear as a bell all the mices were stirring in Whitney’s window well.  Oh mices… give it up!  Yuck, yuck, yuck!!

In other news… I cannot for the ever living daylight believe that Christmas is this week!?!?  SERIOUSLY!  Where did that month go?  I swear I finished finals a week ago then ta da… we’re here.  I keep thinking that I haven’t done enough enjoying of the season… it has more been a whirlwind.  That’s a shame… and something to work on in the future.  I have been enjoying my Christmas music on my woggercizing sessions… Kelly and Harry and Karen and Andy and Amy and Babs… basically all of the classics, which makes woggercizing at night in the cold bearable.  Although, we do not have snow right now (I ADORE!!!)  I take that back… we do have snow in the mountains, which is where all of the cool kids prefer it, but on the days it snows in the mountains, it rains in the valleys and Whitney and her klutz genes were not sore afraid when woggercizing.  KNOCK ON WOOD!

Lindsay wanted me to share her favorite new Christmas decoration… I call her Annabelle the Christmas Fairy.  Translation… she is freaky!  She’s worse than the Elf on the Shelf… and creepier… when you plug her in she waves her hands around like she’s about to start the house on fire with her candle of doom and gloom.  She’s like the stalker version of Mrs. Claus from a horror movie.

MERRY CHRISTMAS to you and yours, sweet blog readers!  To commemorate the occasion, I’m sharing a couple of my favorites:

Spectacular, Guinness !

Karen Carpenter is my favorite Christmas voice… and this is one of my favorite songs!

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Over-Analyzation 1010…

I would just like to point out that for the last 2 hours my brain has been unnecessarily fuming over the lyrics to the song My Funny Valentine.  The ironic part of this fumation is that My Funny Valentine just so happens to be my brain’s go-to singsong whilst in the shower.  I don’t know why this is.  I have never actually sang the song in public.  I don’t even particularly like the song made famous by Frank Sinatra and others about 3 billion years ago when the dinosaurs roamed the Wally World aisles.  It’s an earworm of a song.  And I’m fuming over the lyrics because… how dare he call her looks laughable and unphotographable… who died and made him Fabio but a lot hotter and with less hair?  I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter has never tasted the same, Fabio hair!  I’m really showing my age during this blog post!

I blame my over-analysis of random song lyrics on the fact that my literature class this semester often goes three hours discussing one small phrase in a poem.  Oh by golly… beat my ears in with dumbbells!  I kid you not… a few Tuesdays ago we went 3 hours discussing whether a pebble is considered a rock in this poem that wasn’t even about a dang pebble or a dang rock.  It’s like having to listen to your Great Uncle Ulceritis go on for a billion years about passing a kidney stone.  Well, it got stuck up near the urethra and from there it just sorta set there.  

I think there’s a place for analyzing a person’s words and then there’s NOT a place for over-analyzing a person’s words to death!  Maybe she/he just meant it was a rock… period…  No, it does not represent the darkness of his/her soul or a secret nod to the fact that he/she can’t bake bread products.  It’s just a rock and it happened to be a word in the poem… MOVING ON!  I think it’s safe to say that I will not be a book critic or a urologist in my second lifetime.

In other news… time flies when you’re over-analyzing.  Tomorrow is the day I have to sign up for classes for spring semester that starts in January… spring semester my rear patookus… more like inversion semester.  I’m having trouble deciding on a 2nd class.  I have to take Spanish 1020, but the 2nd one I’m trying to pick one that looks real easy like and my powers of brain psychicness are on vacation with the above-mentioned song analyzation.  Is there a class that condones napping for 3 hours during the actual class time and still acing the test… Sleeping 1010.  Sign me up.

This here is what happens with over analysis… your skiing creepy husband has to carry your head around on a pitchfork.  Stay away from analysis, friends!

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