Friday, January 28, 2011

In which The Prude attempts an explanation

Be honest. Was The Prude so caught up in making sure that she could accurately reproduce brain cells yesterday that she neglected to explain her main point?

That happens a lot to us neuro-philosopher types. We spend so much time pondering the activities of the leetle gray cells that we sometimes forget to put them to any practical use.

The Prude is pretty sure she explained this in a past post but if she can’t remember she certainly doesn’t expect you to.

Those disco lyrics that bump and grind their way through The Prude’s brain?  They are the ones that are locked in the deep and suppressed disco vault in her memory bank, and sneak out at night.

On awakening she finds herself humming ‘Keep it coming love’ or ‘That’s the way, uh huh uh huh’ or, even worse, “Play that funky music white boy”. And The Prude knows the day will be truly dreadful when she is in the shower and realized she’s been humming ‘Muskrat Love’ for 5 minutes.

(You younger readers who may be tempted to Google and perhaps even listen to these songs– The Prude implores you, for you own good, DON’T DO IT. Or you too  may find yourself under control of music and lyrics that you dislike so intensely they make you want to throw your shampoo at something)

And it is these songs, the ones she doesn’t like, that run through her head all day. You know how some experts say we only use about 10% of our brains? That is because the other 90% is jammed up with these songs line dancing around under a disco ball.

To those readers who love disco: The Prude in no wise means to give offense.
If you realize that she was more of a Led Zeppelin, Creedence Clearwater Revival kind of girl you may understand her aversion to disco.

And there you have it. What was supposed to be a 1-sentence explanation of yesterday’s post has turned into an almost 350 word post.

So this means The Prude can save the rant meant for today for next Monday, and she doesn’t have to worry about it over the weekend. Which is a good thing, because now that she let Muskrat Susie and Muskrat Sam out of deep storage, she is certain they will be roaming around her head looking for love all weekend long.


Lori said...

I'd almost forgotten these delightful words, Prude. I'll be singing 'em the rest of the day:

And they whirled and they twirled and they tangoed
Singin' and jingin' the jango
Floatin' like the heavens above
It looks like muskrat love

Nibbling on bacon, chewin' on cheese
Sammy says to Susie "Honey, would you please be my missus?"

The Prude said...

How do you jing the jango anyways?

Anonymous said...

I so remember "Muskrat Love!" What do muskrats have to do with love anyway???? - Joanie