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Sunday, December 16, 2007

~Name That Tune~

I have become very cynical when it comes to love songs. I am nauseated by love songs with sappy sentiments like, "I want to spend every second of every day just gazing at you...I want to devote my life to making sure you are happy every single second...I want to be close to you all the time, In fact, what I would like to do is shrink you down into a teeny man so I could carry you in the pocket of my skirt."

The weepy lovey ones, the kind you hear at weddings, just aren't working for me. In particular, I have a problem with Celine.

Celine! I know, how can I say such a horrible thing? There was a time when I sang, "I will always love you" at the top of my lungs with the car stereo--but the days of me singing the song that went with that movie in which the boy drowned are completely over. Two of my sisters would love nothing more than a trip to Vegas to see Celine in action and my thought on that is:

Are you crazy? Why would you willingly shell out cash for that torture?

The problem with it is that it goes on for hours. Mindy and Celine can easily spend five hours singing the same song. Over and Over. The volume on the head phones is maxxed, so I can hear the actual song--and sometimes? I think my parents are saints because they listen to it for eight hours everyday.

There are a number of things that can go wrong if the batteries die. Choice number 1 is that she decides to watch "dirty dancing" til mom and dad come get her--and that isn't going to happen for another twenty hours. During those twenty hours, Mindy will watch the part of the movie where they sing, "baby, woo-oh--whoa, my sweet bay-ay-bay..." for nine hours.

The second thing that could go wrong is she will decide she has had it with my house and she will begin calling my parents, sometimes she will call them on the phone, sometimes she will just stand in front of the window screaming, "I hate you name dad!" (What she means is that it pisses her off when she gets the answering machine in which my dad declares his name.)

Let's just say that the next level of bad hasn't truly been plumbed yet. There have been various degrees of bad, including the time she decided to walk home. It's rather hard to know what action to take when walking next to a handicapped woman who is screaming for her parents. But I am sure that she is working on something else, something extra special--something so loud and obnoxious that my parent's will never leave her alone with anyone else ever again. (This is her goal, you see--to make sure my parents are always in her sight.)

At this very moment the cd is playing and there are batteries to spare. It's a little nerve racking but it's better than any of the other options.

Now that I have made it sounds as though I do not enjoy my sister's company, let me tell you some of the things I like about her.

I like driving with her. She sits next to me in the front seat and she points to other cars on the road. "Don't hit that car Debbie." She says it about every car on the road. Once the game begins I start, "How about that house? Can I hit that house? What about that guy? Can I hit him?" Needless to say she is not impressed, she gasps each time I ask about another object in our range and when she has had enough of my hijinx she says, "I am telling mom." I always treat that as though it is grave information and then I say, "Well, I am telling mom you called me a rotten bitch." The reaction to that is sufficient that I can drive all the way to town without remembering that I hate to drive.

I like going to Walmart with her. There is always a nice parking spot close to the front.

It used to be that I was embarrassed when I was with my sister and people stared at us. I don't think it bothers Mindy, I think she believes people are checking her out because she is wearing a new coat. I have recently discovered that having people stare at you in Walmart comes with it's own benefits; people move their carts so that we can get through. And if they don't move fast enough Mindy will say, "excuse me? I am walking here?" Mindy also stops traffic. If I should stop the cart and then walk to the other side of the aisle Mindy stops the on coming carts, "My my my sister is right there--be careful!" When I am shopping with my sister, it is a liesurely expereince, there is no such thing as hurrying with Mindy, so I might as well relax and enjoy it.

It seems that Mindy soothes my two biggest phobia's, shopping and driving. That's a pretty sweet deal isn't it?

It's true that I have a long list of love song singing woman that I can no longer stomach, but who cares? Trading two phobia's for Celine seems a fair trade.


Paul said...

I cannot conceive of any circumstances, sisterly or otherwise, that could even remotely justify my listening to the screechings of Celine.

Jennifer said...

You are a patient woman -- and a great sister. And there is enough great music in the world to not care if a few diva's get scratched off the list, right?

Laura said...

You know, I felt true sympathy over the Dirty Dancing thing but now that I know about the Celine... Well, Patrick never looked so good.

Perhaps Santa can bring earplugs.