I'm glad my inner monologue is private.
Sometimes, it's not too bad. Like, when I see a Mazda, I automatically sing, "Zoom, zoom, zoom." Or if I see a pink Cadillac, I hear Springsteen singing, what else, "Pink Cadillac". A mom with a baby evokes, "Oh, look at the baby." When the coral bells are blooming (Girl Scouts, join in!), "White coral bells, upon a slender stalk, lilies of the valley deck my garden walk..." Whenever I cross the Indiana State line, "Back home again, in Indiana, and it seems that I can see a gleaming candle light still shining bright, through the sycamores for me..." (if you're not a Hoosier or an Indy 500 fan then I'm guessing the tune is lost on you).
But then there are the thoughts that aren't so diplomatic. Every. Single. Time., I see a woman with a big butt, I hear in my head, "I like big BUTTS and I cannot lie..." And then I giggle. It's gotten so that Dillon knows exactly what I'm thinking and he looks at me and then we start laughing and then I'm twice as horrified. When someone calls my office with a complaint, sometimes I forget to listen to what they're saying and instead hear, a la Charlie Brown's teacher, "Wah, wah, wah, wah, wah, wah." And then I have to ask them to repeat themselves. Someone droning on with a too long story, Black Eyed Peas..."Shut Up". If I come across a snooty sales girl in the mall..."Cold Hard Bitch".
On retrospect, it's more of an inner soundtrack.
At my high school reunion last fall, most songs were a mix-tape of classic 80's. I showed up singing, Violent Femmes, "Let me go wiiiiild, like a blister in the sun...", then there was some Bob Marley, John Cougar, Springsteen played when I saw Matt, Tom Petty = John, and Gretchen evokes Sting... Those were the days...
Imagine, if everyone could hear the speakers in my head. I would leave a trail of 40-year-olds bobbing their heads to the beat, Girl Scouts singing along, enemies with big butts and indignant homeowners in my wake. I have tried to hit the "stop" button... sometimes "pause" works, but In the end, I'll probably go out singing, "It's the end of the world, as we know it..."!
3 comments:
HELLO, seriously, same thing.
Patrick - I call him "My Poops" and I have a whole song I sing to him to the tune of "My Humps".
My Poops, My little baby Poops, check him out...
I think maybe I need to get out more.
I do the Charlie Brown - wah, wah, wah when the kids are constantly fighting and keep calling my name. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. Tomorrow is our "day off" from traveling to the hospital(s), but one of these days we'll meet up - I promise :-)
I've got a vitual jukebox in my head. I usually know all the artisits too. It's REM, Emily.
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