22 December 2009

Oh, I'll show you fire in my heart

I went shopping yesterday to find a present for my grandmother, which I didn't, but I did end up buying myself 3 tops for myself which is quite a feat, since the last time I found clothes worthy enough of purchase was circa 2003 when I stole my uniform knickers from Interlochen, and well, I guess that's not actually buying them, but let's not get bogged down in the details. They were nice knickers. At least for being school-owned and used for who knows how many years before I wore them. But that's not the story. Actually, there's not really a story at all, but since when has that ever stopped me?

So while I was shopping, all the stores were playing Christmas music which is great, because who doesn't love Christmas music (aside from atheists, and, I dunno, probably some Muslims. And some Jews? Pagans maybe? Anyway.) And I generally like to think of myself as a rather musically-tolerant person. Aside from anything by Savage Garden, I can't think of any musician/band that I simply cannot stand. But there is one song that grates on my very last nerve: "Last Christmas." Oh my gosh, I HATE that song. It's the fingernails on the chalkboard of my heart.

Let's take a look at the chorus, shall we?

Last Christmas I gave you my heart
The very next day you gave it away
This year to save me from tears
I'll give it to someone special.

First of all, since when is the heart something you can regift? I mean, if I were to give my heart to some guy and then he "gave it away" does that mean he tried to pimp me out? Did he put my love for him in some sort of bizarre ebay auction to be sold to the highest lonely bidder? Not that I have much experience with love, but I don't think it works like that. I'm pretty sure that if my love can be bought, I have to be the one to set the price and determine the buyer, not the guy I tried to give my heart to for free who then tried to pawn it off to someone else without my permission. But whatever, let's assume the premise is true, that some guy I was madly in love with gave my heart to someone else (whether by force, bribery, Match.com, Secret Santa, or some other method (hah! Typed "meathod" again). How could I then "give it to someone [else] special?" Was my heart so awful that the guy #2 who was given my heart from guy #1 decided to personally hand it back to me and say, "Um, ew. This is nasty. Takeitbacktakeitbacktakeitback." I mean, unless I was somehow able to get my heart back after giving it away how will I ever be able to give it to someone else the following year? Did I grow another one in the mean time? Did I qualify for a heart transplant? Am I secretly a Time Lord and I actually have two hearts to give away? You know, like a Plan B, backup-plan heart?

So yes, I hate the song - the music is awful and the lyrics are even worse. And while shopping, I walked into no less than 7 - SEVEN! - different stores yesterday only to that song blast over the speakers within two minutes of me walking in there, and each time it was a different version. I don't know what I did to anger the music gods*, but good grief, did they get their revenge.

Anyway, I say all that to say this. Next time someone covers that song, I'm gonna kill him. Seriously**. Literally***. I'm gonna save up some money, move to a state without the death penalty, apply for a hand gun permit, buy myself a gun, take some lessons at the local shooting range, and SHOOT HIM DEAD.

*Total lie. I know exactly what I did.

**Not really.

***And when I say "literally," I mean "not literally at all." Promise, FBI agents who now have my name on Red Alert. But I'll probably still punch the guy. Right in throat. That's okay, right? Probably just a misdemeanor or something.

1 comment:

  1. > the last time I found clothes worthy enough of purchase was circa 2003

    I rarely buy clothes.

    My dad gave me a load of static at the last family gathering for wearing jeans that are soiled from woodworking and blacksmithing (ever try to get forge dirt out of denim? Can't be done.) I realized 10 minutes ago: here it is, Christmas Eve, and I haven't bought new jeans. Trouble ahead!