Escaping Boredom

Just did some impromptu, at-home karaoke dueting with Husband. Of course, it all spawned from yet another one of my brilliant flashes of idealistic energy as I tell him about one of the most beautiful and ridiculously awe-inspiring love songs I have ever heard.

In case you have never been privy to being around me on these not-so-rare occasions where my eyes grow to the size of fried eggs while I tell you about the next greatest thing that has come to my mind and I must! (must! must! must!) tell you about it at this very moment and if you don't agree with me or share in my excitement my entire world might just fall apart and I will hate you for anywhere between 5 seconds to 5 days for rejecting something I am so obviously passionate about-- well, then you will not understand what I am talking about, or even worse, probably think I am a crazy person after reading this entire blog post (which neither bothers me or is entirely incorrect of you to assume). But if you do know me, then you can get a nice mental picture of me going on and on while Husband looks back at me like the rambling eccentric person I am.

He whose name we do not speak.

I sing (also not so fun to listen to) the few verses of the poetic-genius that I actually know and then proceed to tell him what the song is actually about- failing miserably to accurate convey my feelings and the song's plot, and knowing that I am altering the story to my liking rather than keeping its integrity in tact- I pull up the lyrics and nonetheless he finally takes the bait. He finally caved and played along with my ever-winding and expeditious conversational path if only to get me to stop explaining and start getting to the freaking point.

And so we set off on our duet- Husband of course, not extending himself too much to appease my wild inclination, happily played the part of the vocal instrumental background music (which he did, to my surprise, very accurately for not being all that familiar with the song itself). I, on the other hand, bravely sang till the apartment walls shook (as well as my dying voice), an occurrence I am sure my neighbors upstairs hope is not going to be a reoccurring one, and belted out the scariest version of "Escape" by Robert Holmes anyone has probably ever heard. But I had heart, and fun, so I make no apologies.

Escape? You may know it by another name...

I was tired of my lady, we'd been together too long.

Like a worn-out recording, of a favorite song.

So while she lay there sleeping, I read the paper in bed.

And in the personals column, there was this letter I read:

If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.

If you're not into yoga, if you have half-a-brain.

If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape.

I'm the lady you've looked for, write to me, and escape.

I didn't think about my lady, I know that sounds kind of mean.

But me and my old lady, had fallen into the same old dull routine.

So I wrote to the paper, took out a personal ad.

And though I'm nobody's poet, I thought it wasn't half-bad.

Yes, I like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.

I'm not much into health food, I am into champagne.

I've got to meet you by tomorrow noon, and cut through all this red tape.

At a bar called O'Malley's, where we'll plan our escape.

So I waited with high hopes, then she walked in the place.

I knew her smile in an instant, I knew the curve of her face.

It was my own lovely lady, and she said, "Oh, it's you."

And we laughed for a moment, and I said, I never knew...

That you liked Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.

And the feel of the ocean, and the taste of champagne.

If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape. 

You're the love that I've looked for, come with me, and escape.

If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.

If you're not into yoga, if you have half-a-brain.

If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape.

You're the love that I've looked for, come with me, and escape.

Yeah, I'm not so crazy after all.