FRRRRRRRRRRRRi d a e i y e e h a. ! .
Who even WROTE The Happy Birthday song?
I guess I could look this up, but I prefer to be annoyed and not.
This is the thing. That’s a hard song to sing. And who has the loaded responsibility of delivering and/or performing this song endless times of year on different camcorders and iphones and America’s Funniest Video and the like? LITTLE CHILDREN ACROSS THE GLOBE PLANET WORLD.
You start off the first line, “Happy Birthday to you” – you know the melody, sing with me. The “to you” is cake. (no pun intended.)
The second, “Happy Birthday to you -” now that gets tricky. Little kids don’t understand jumps like that. Why would you do that, sir?
Then the final, “Happy BIRRRTHDDAA-” SIR. No. That is an OCTAVE. Do you know how botched your song just got? Kids can’t sing that! Heck, ADULTS ruin your precious tune more times than get it right! What were you thinking, throwing an octave in a tune that’s sung more times a day than Twinkle Twinkle Little Dang Star. That’s just poor planning if you ask me.
These are the things I think about at night and all the time.
Finally finished season 3 of Maisel last night! GOSH, that was a cliffhanger. The plane flying off and Midge and Susie standing on the runway in speechless shock.
I loved this season. I WILL say, I loved season two a little more. You can’t beat PARIS and the CATSKILLS. They tried with Vegas and Miami, but those cities are such snooze fests for me (minus the whole ’60s glam and music and fashion <and 2000s Dexter>. I’m no animal.). I do wonder where we’ll go in season 4! Seems like they pick two other cities to highlight per season. I’d like to make a request for Eureka Springs, Arkansas and London, England. Or back to Paris. Or back to the Catskills. Or all of it in New York. Or maybe in India! Or oh – SPAIN. That would be cool. No, no – Italy. All that pasta. Or just Eureka. I’m fine with anything.
Why are you looking at me like that?
Do you ever . . . smell your dental floss?
Perhaps I should have kept that to myself.
I tend to be somewhat of a mild germaphobe. I wash hands all day long, I disinfect toothbrushes once a week, I wipe down counters and fridge doors constantly, throw out kitchen scrubs every Monday morning on the dot and rotate hand towels every afternoon.
But when it comes to a microphone? ALL BETS ARE OFF. My lips gotta touch it, man. They just do. If I’m singing into a handheld mic, there has to be hard contact or else I won’t feel like I’m in Heart.
Germs, scherms. My DNA will be all over that round, metal threaded ego booster OR ELSE.
That’s really all. I’m gross.
GOT MORE SNOW. NO SCHOOL AGAIN. I’m fine. It’s fine.
I’ve got no hard plans this weekend except to organize my pants (no I still haven’t done this, just love), hang some art (no I still haven’t done this, just love) and pack for NEW YAWK. I’m back in the city all week next week for a m a s s i v e Food Network shoot (16 recipes! hold me.) so obviously I’ll take dinner recommends from ya. I’ve got my favorites of course, but it’s New York City. Give me more.