Friday, February 03, 2012
Boom Boom Boom
For no reason I suddenly recalled a song that used to play on the radio when I was in the carpool on the way to elementary school and the chorus went chicka boom chicka boom don't you just love it, chicka boom chicka boom don't you just love it, chicka boom chicka boom don't you just love it, chicka boom chicka boom boom boom. Except on the first and third iteration it was "DON'T you just love it" and on the second it was "don't YOU just love it" because of the syncopation or something. And now I have just looked for the song on the "internet" and am pleased to be able to transcribe the opening verse for you, which I had forgotten, but now it is all coming back to me: "Last night I had a crazy dream/ About a chick in a black bikini/ She looked so good she couldn't be real/ She must have been a magic genie." Goodness there is so much to say! "What other kind of genie could there be?" is one thing to say. "Of course if she appeared in a dream she wasn't real," is another. And those are the only things to say.