I was at the grocery store last week without my children.
Did you know the grocery store is practically serene without someone touching you every two seconds and asking you to buy stuff?
On the downside, without my children, I found I could actually hear the light rock they pumped into the store.
And apparently, I’m very susceptible to picking up catchy tunes.
Sadly, “catchy tunes” includes a) The Never Ending Story, and b) You Sexy Thing.
I spent the first half of my grocery store visit singing “the never end-ding sto-oh-ree… ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah aaaahhh… the never end-ding sto-oh-ree…”
That I was aware of.
Fortunately, the broccoli area of produce was lightly populated at the time, soI may have gotten away with it.
Unfortunately, I’ve clearly spent too much time in church.
I believe in miracles.
Where you from?
You sexy thing.
I believe in miracles.
Praise the Lord!
You sexy thing.
Is it the word “miracles” that sets me off? Do I somehow intrinsically believe that the only thing that appropriately follows “miracles” is “praise the Lord?”
And what part of my subconscious is OK with “praise the Lord” being followed by “you sexy thang?”
What is wrong with me?
That is not a rhetorical question, so feel free to answer.
18 responses to “Lyrics”
So funny! As we say in my house, “I like to think of Jesus as a lover.”
HA! Then I can hope Jesus understands. 😉
You need a wild road and crazy road trip–the kind WITHOUT children. Do you know the joke, “How do you tell good friends from your best friends?” Answer: A good friend bails you out of jail; your best friend sits next to in jail and says, ‘That was SO AWESOME!’ Maybe you need that kind of road trip.
that does sound like a good road trip! 🙂 (you know where there are very comfortable jail cells? Holland! you probably have to try really hard to end up in one, but hey, that’s the fun part, right? 😉 )
yeah, Beth – my thought while reading your blog was “oh, there’s some of your mom in you” – it totally seems like a side effect of living with “Saint R” is mental connection with the word “miracle” with “praise the Lord” and I cannot decide if the following stanza is nature or nurture….could go either way on that one.
That’s officially the first time I’ve ever said or written “ack,” but I find it strangely fitting when I’m being compared to my mother.
Never do that again. Even if you’re right.
I’ll never measure up. And, just in case you think I’m being falsely modest, no one has ever (EVER) given me a nickname with anything approaching the word “saint” in it. I rest my case.
In answer to your question I would have to say, umm, you’re an MK! Duh! We’re a crazy, mixed-up breed!
At least I’m in good company. 😉
what’s a MK? (I have to ask, just need to know, just need to, just do 😉 )
MK is one of these things:
MK = Michael Knight of Knight Rider fame
MK = making kids (which is fun, depending on how you do it ;))
MK = Magic Kingdom
MK = missionary kid
okay, that’s clears it all up… I think… 😉
So everyone else can suffer with us.
Or, as Mr. Shin would say, deeper and deeper.
For the rest of y’all, here’s an instant message chat between me and my brother following this fantastic link. This will help you know how to pray for Kim and Greg. No appreciation, I tell you. None.
Me: playing it now – turned up the volume to full and LOLing
Jeff: me too. its SO GOOD
Me: did you see the comment from the guy on youtube who said he and his wife chose it as their WEDDING SONG?? GOOD GRIEF! oops – didn’t mean all caps for that last, but it still applies
Jeff: what? seriously? wow. proof again I stand exactly on the generational divide; Kim doesn’t know the song.
Me: I’m crying for her. That’s so, so sad. She should get sucked in by the synthesizer any second, though. Or the ah’s.
Me: Greg just said “I’m pretty sure that’s the never ending song.” 🙁
This is just wrong. You ask what’s wrong with you, knowing full well I’m too busy for the epic response suggested (Suggested? Nay, demanded!) by the opportunity. This is the equivalent of turning your back on an armed opponent because you know they just ran out of ammo. Cold. Calculated. Insidious.
That and you got me stuck humming the NeverEnding Story theme. I concede defeat. Well Played, and Good Day.
I’m laughing aloud whilst stunned by the rapid-fire defeat-concession.
This may be a sibling record. Read and witnessed by 1000’s. (OK, maybe by 5’s, but whatever.)
You’re too sexy for this blog… Too sexy for this blog… Too… (Well you did ask…)
Oh, you mean and funny girl. You know what I’m singing to myself as I walk me up the stairs and to bed. I’m also doing that lame 80’s dance move… the double-fisted stirring circle. Oh, yes. Yes, I am. I am THAT cool.
Always love you Gwen. And MISS you!