Friday, September 30, 2011

Last Friday Night…

While listening to Bitty sing last week, I heard something pass through her sweet little mouth that made me stop in my tracks.  And those words were: menage a trois.  Well, actually she said mena day ta.  Her French is pretty bad.

She was singing Katy Perry’s song Last Friday Night.  It’s such a bouncy, fun sounding song… Until you actually listen to the lyrics.  Let’s take a look, shall we?

There’s a stranger in my bed (Holdup!!! That’s the first line of the song??  Uh… that’s not okay…)

There’s a pounding in my head (I’m going to take a wild guess here and say you’re probably hung over.  That might also explain the fact that someone you don’t know is in your bedroom.)

Glitter all over the room (Why?  I have glitter all over my front room, but it’s because my six year old threw a tube of Crayola Craft Glitter.)

Pink flamingos in the pool (Live ones?  That might be kinda cool, but they have really stinky poo.  How did you get the flamingos?  I’m thinking this might have involved some kind of illegal activity…)

I smell like a minibar  (Seriously??  You realize that’s not a good thing, right?  RIGHT??)

DJ’s passed out in the yard  (Are we talking a real live DJ or a guy named DJ?  Either way, public intoxication is illegal, too.  I’m thinking you’re going to have the police at your place soon, so you should probably hide the flamingos.)

Barbie’s on the barbeque (Okaaaay… you were so drunk that a plastic doll sounded like good eats?  I can’t say that’s ever happened to me before.  But then again, I’ve also never stolen flamingos.)

Is this a hickey or a bruise?  (I’m thinking that is irrelevant at this point.  You really need to be worrying about getting everyone together to round up the flamingos.  And it would probably also be good to find out who that guy in your bedroom is.  Heck, maybe he can answer whether that’s a hickey or a bruise.)

Pictures of last night ended up online.  I'm screwed.  (I’m sure there’s also video evidence of the flamingo theft as well.  Just saying.)

Oh well.  (Really? That’s all you have to say for yourself? OH WELL?  I don’t think you’re taking this whole flamingo thing seriously.  YOU STOLE FLAMINGOS!  People go to jail for that kind of thing…)

It's a blacked out blur  (Ahh, you blacked out.  Things are starting to come together now.  Do you even remember stealing the flamingos?)  

But I'm pretty sure it ruled  (WHA?!?  Are we not on the same page here?  There is nothing that ‘rules’ about waking up next to a complete stranger and flamingo poop everywhere.)   

Dang!  (Okay, it’s not really dang.  But I don’t curse unless I do so accidently by merit of I couldn’t control my temper.  However, it appears you have no control over anything, so the cursing probably comes naturally to you.)

And now we get to the chorus, otherwise known as ‘the part that taught my six year old the words menage a trois’:

Last Friday night     Yeah we danced on tabletops     And we took too many shots     Think we kissed but I forgot     Last Friday night     Yeah we maxed our credit cards     And got kicked out of the bar     So we hit the boulevard     Last Friday night     We went streaking in the  park     Skinny dipping in the dark     Then had a menage a trois
Last Friday night     Yeah I think we broke the law     Always say we're gonna stop Whoa    But this Friday night     Do it all again


Now, I realize I did not grow up and become a stripper just because I dressed up like Madonna and constantly sang ‘Like A Virgin’.  But I also feel like letting my daughter sing that somehow tells her that I think it’s okay that she says those words. 

Yes.  I understand that she does not know what they mean.  But still…


Is this a problem for anyone else?  Or am I just being overly prudish?


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