Oh yeah, you got me going, you really got me going
I have been earwormed all week, and now this article shows up. But it misses the most devious earworms of all: those that implant themselves *without* the actual song being heard. Just a few words from the lyrics are enough to kick it off.
Which explains why I've been humming all week, "One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble", even though I haven't actually listened to Chess in years. (More's the pity.) It's because I have been subbing a story on a property development called Oriental City.*
This variation of the "pesky phenomenon" isn't just pesky. It is a dangerous weapon. If only a few words are needed, such words can be slipped quite innocently (or quite mischievously — yes, Vivaldifan, I am looking at YOU) into conversation. This kind of thing can trigger a battle to the death. To the very death, I tell you.
Vivaldifan, I'm gonna get you. One way or another. I'm gonna find you. I'm gonna getcha getcha getcha getcha...
_____
* [sigh] Okay. If you really need the help:
Bangkok. Oriental City. But the city don't know what the city is getting. The cremedelacreme of the chess world inna - show with everything but Yuuuul Brynner!
38 comments:
Babes, you don't need to come get me get me get me. You can just call me. On the line. Call me any, any, anytime.
And lo (cue Star Wars theme), the Eighties Pop Lyrics War has begun...
I reckon we should do teams, and develop a scoring system. I've got G. and V. on my side and they're far more fiendish than I.
Call you? When you never call me?
Winter's passed, spring and fall. You never wrote me, you never called... Vivaldifan, you been gone too long. Gone too long.
[Readers! Do you see this? To me, my loyal defenders!]
[Cue deafening silence...]
Scroob and fans, lest we unleash extreme lateral thinking, we've been taking something out of the last line and starting the next set of lyrics with that.*
Ergo: You're too shy shy, hush hush, eye to eye...
*Actually, who is this 'we'? I have no backup besides my own terrible taste in music.
I veto this rule. Lateral is good. 'Cause it's *my* blog.
And where the hell is this hush-hush stuff coming from? I see no link! None!
*sigh*
We're so easily confused. Lost. Lost in music. Caught in a trap! No turning back.
*oo, I've been summoned!*
Err... 'Backstreet's back...alright!'
Oh, jesus.
This is the Age of Aquarius and Scroobious belongs to the world.
But fine, have it your way.
It's (not) my blog and I'll cry if I want to, cry if I want to, cry if I want to.
You know, you would cry, you really would, if this happened to happen to you.
Bloody hell, Viv, no need to throw a strop. We're following your rules *ackshully*. See? No turning back. Backstreet's back. There ya go! (Thanks P!)
So don't cry. Don't you cry tonight. There's a heaven above you baby, and don't you cry tonight.
I get no respect.
But I don't care if you think we're out of line,
Conversation is interrogation
Get out of here, we just don't have the time
Take or leave us, only please believe us,
We ain't ever gonna be respectable
You know, St Elmo, we didn't start the fire - it was *always* burning, since the world's been turning.
Oh, don't turn around! Cos you're gonna see my heart breaking. Don't turn around! I don't want you seeing me crying. Just walk away. I'm letting you go...
...Don't be afraid. Take a sad song and make it better...The movement you need is on your shoulder...
Just feel their gentle touch, when all hope is gone, sad songs say so much...
...I get knocked down, but I get up again. You ain't never gonna get me down...Don't cry for me, next door neighbor...
...the truth is, I never left you. All through my wild days, my mad existence, I kept my promise - don't keep your distance.
[And ... enter Bette]
Long distance phone calls, a voice on the line - electrical miles that soften the time...what are the choices for those who remain? This thing has turned into a runaway train...
(What an opening! Thanks!)
Chug-a chug-a motion like a railway train now, come on baby, do the locomotion
I love every movement, there's nothing I would change. She doesn't need improvement, she's much too nice to rearrange. Poetry in motion...A wave out on the ocean could never move that way...
Oceans apart, day after day, and I slowly go insane. I hear your voice on the line, but it doesn't stop the pain...
(Oh, that I have been reduced to quoting Richard Marx! *shudder*)
Stop! In the name of love, before you break my heart...Baby, baby I'm aware of where you go, each time you leave my door...
I saw the sign, and it opened up my eyes.
(That would be the one that says: Danger! 80s lyrics ahead!)
Blame it on the rain that was falling, falling, blame it on the stars that shine at night. Whatever you do, don't put the blame on you.
We built this city. We built this city on blogs and troooolls.
Not to put too fine a point on it, say I'm the only bee in your bonnet - build a little birdhouse in your soul.
It ain't fiction, just a natural fact - we stay together cuz opposites attract.
Bought my first real six-string; over at the five and dime.
Feed the bird, feed the birds. Tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag.
That's it then? Mary Poppins killed the fun? But I'm addicted to this little game now!
Oh, it wasn't Mary Poppins, Cate. It was video. Video killed the radio star. Video killed the radio star...
(Also I think everyone's going home now, this side of the pond. Damn.)
Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day.
So. Many. Choices.
When you're strange, faces come out of the rain. When you're strange, no one remembers your name; when you're strange...
(And you thought the fun had stopped, Dem. Shame on you.)
...My name is Sue! How do you do?! Now you gonna die!...
I met her in a club down in old Soho, where you drink champagne and it tastes just like cherry Cola. C-o-l-a Cola.
...at the base of my spine just like a chick-a-cherry cola. I don't even try to explain, I just hold on tight and if it happens again I will move so slightly to the arms and the lips and the face of the human cannonball that I need to I want to...
(Try getting that right without Googling! I'm sure I messed it up)
Cool! Torture ScroobiousScrivener time! ;)
I like Lola, but I prefer....
I met him in a swamp down on Dagobah
Where it bubbles all the time like a giant
carbonated soda
S-O-D-A soda
I saw the little runt sitting there on a log
I asked him his name, and in a raspy voice
he said Yoda.
Y-O-D-A Yoda.
Yo-yo-yo-yo-yoda...
***EVIL GRIN***
Oops, I think I just branched off the wrong song post. The last one had cherry cola in it... wait, bubbles like a giant carbonated soda... ok, I'm not too far off. :)
Blimey, I missed all the fun.
Hats off to Cate for quoting my favourite guilty pleasure song 'I Want You' by Savage Garden.
And it turns out Pash is a natural at this, well I never!
*retires defeated*
AT least you don't burst into a chorus of "the internet is for porn" in the supermarket. It upsets the little old ladies, I tell you.
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