Thursday, December 10, 2009

It's Whoreticulture Friday! Issue 8

Whoreticulture: The industry and science of whores and whore-related topics. Whoreticulturists work and conduct research in the disciplines of OB-GYNery, Brazilian waxers and shavers, adultery, personal hygiene mavens and easy women. The word is composite, from two words, whore, from Greek meaning "harlot" or "dear", and the word culture. Like NPR's Science Friday, Whoreticulture Friday exists to educate and spark discussion on the science of Whorology. Whoreticulture Friday is not for children. Or squeamish people. Or Mother-In-Laws.

Today's topic: Songs with Sexual Innuendo

It's 6 a.m., hey what do you hear?
My man on the radio is crystal clear
White stuff soakin' up the atmosphere
My head is clear, I let out a cheer
Let my dreams come true
I'm ready, Momma Nature's gotta come through

My head's on fire and I'm startin' to shake
To do me right you gotta give me a break
I'll give you every guarantee I can make
I'm wide awake, make no mistake

I'm dreamin', take me away
hey hey what do you say
C'mon baby hurry, I need a flaky flurry
I'm down on my knees to pray

I don't need much but a punctual gift
I wanna stay in bed for a second shift
A lotta white stuff gonna give me a lift
So make it swift and let her drift
I want it more than anything (I want it)

Let me preface this by saying that I KNOW I am getting a lump of coal in my stocking (As a matter of fact, it's at the top of my wish list, nudge nudge, wink wink). But since this blog IS called Whoreticulture Friday, I know that you understand I am going to be naughty, not nice. As with all Whoreticulture Friday posts, if you take the responsibility of reading the post, you are agreeing to not let your children read them; you are going to forget everything you read when you are done; and you will still respect me in the morning. My lawyer will be contacting you for signatures.

SO. When you read the song lyrics above, what do you think is the most appropriate match? Is it:

A. On the soundtrack to the porn classic, "Jack Off Frost"?
B. Used as the score for an informational video about STDs?
C. The third song sung by 7th graders at the concert tonight?

Oh yes. You KNOW the answer. (But I will tell you that I made up "Jack Off Frost" - it's not a real film...yet) It is, of course, C. And those are the REAL lyrics.

Tonight I attended Oldest Daughter's winter chorus concert. And before I address the song, I have to talk a bit about the actual event.

I dropped OD off at the Middle School at 6:40, which gave me 20 blissful minutes in which I sat in my car, slammed a vanilla latte, listened to music, and contemplated the beauty of Iowa covered in snow and ice at night while not driving on it. At 7 p.m., I walked into the Middle School and looked at the packed bleachers for a place to squeeze in. I saw a spot and crawled over people who wouldn't move over to get into what must have been the last space in the bleachers. There was a reason it was the last spot. Let's make a checklist of what would make this the worst concert experience possible:
  • screaming toddler to my left
  • mother of screaming toddler shushing him by yelling "USE YER INDOOR VOICE!"
  • woman in front of me exhibiting full-on coin slot, and I'm talking silver dollar size
  • man behind to the left taking cell phone calls during most of concert
  • woman to the right texting during most of concert
  • someone whose dinner of sausage gumbo didn't agree with them
  • AND THE WINNERS - the couple who were shoving, not brushing, their knees into my spine over and over and over during the entire concert, even though I was sitting side saddle with only 3 inches of my butt actually on the bleacher so as to avoid their knees

Oh yes, parents. You've been to this concert. Elementary programs have individual seating in folding chairs, but you've been spoiled, my friend. From Middle School on, you are in the bleachers and inevitably sitting on stranger's laps and extracting their DNA to take home with you as a parting gift. Mmmm.

And really. At what point do you get that you turn off your cell phone, or at least silence it, when you walk into a concert or a movie or a wedding or a funeral? (Did I text during the U2 concert? Yes. But it was at Soldier Field and I was DRUNK, which is strongly discouraged during Middle School concerts. But apparently not prohibited. And for the record, of nearly 40 texts I sent during those two hours, 36 of them were sent with only two or three characters, so they don't count.)

Back to the song. It's called "Snow Day", but could just as easily be called "Ode to Puberty" or "My First Nocturnal Emission". I am sure the chorus teacher innocently picked this song, thinking, "Hey, the young kids might like singing something that isn't a traditional song...this has a jazzy beat, and it goes well with Scotch" because anyone who would willingly take on teaching Middle School kids to sing with their voices changing and all of the hormones deserves to drink on the job. Really. You Middle School chorus teachers? Get a pass.

So on the trip over to the concert, OD has a "talk" with me, because sadly, she probably knows how my mind works.
OD: "So, Mom, on our last song, you'll probably see a lot of kids laughing."
ME: "Why?"
OD: (blushing) "Um, well, there are some lyrics that are...funny...especially to the boys."
ME: "Like what? I need some examples."
OD: "Can't you just know that it will be funny, and DON'T LOOK AT ME DURING THE SONG!"
ME: "What is it, it can't be THAT bad."
OD: "Um, 'I wanna stay in bed for a second shift, a lotta white stuff gonna give me a lift'."
ME: "Oh."
OD: "Do not laugh. And do NOT look at me, okay?"
ME: (Laughing and looking at her.) "Okay!"

So of course, I'm chuckling during the song as the boys, who previously could barely be heard, start belting out the lyrics, their breaking voices shooting over the crowd like an unexpected jolt of...joyous song, of course. Don't be nasty.

And of course, I am eagle-eying OD, and she is eagle-eying me back, and we are both laughing, along with every Middle School kid on those risers, and I realize that she told me so I would be in on the joke, which makes me want to cry with happiness at my bonding moment with her except that it is a moment of sexual innuendo over a chorus concert song at Middle School and then I am feeling a little like this could get me on the sex offender list, so I start frowning. But it was still funny. Damn that my daughter knows I have the maturity level of a seventh grader! But I will leave the adult behavior to CH, because I can't get that Snow Day song out of my head.

No pun intended.

What have we learned today? Nothing. Except maybe that Middle School never changes. Happy Whoreticulture Friday! Have a great weekend!


Nikki Allers said...

How does one respond... Poor MS music teacher... so cool that your OD let you in on the song ahead of time... ugh, and the bleachers. I'm sorry you had to sit so close to such folks. If I ever sit behind you on the bleachers, I promise I will not dig my knees into your back!!

Julie said...

I worry about you Mandatory Reporters who read the blog... :) I'm sure they didn't do it on purpose, but STILL! Will you sit behind me at the orchestra concert on Thursday at the middle school? I'll give you cinnamon rolls!

Nikki Allers said...

Sure, if you'll take care of report cards for me. The comment section is brutal and you're the writer... I've heard about your cinnamon rolls...

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