Yeah, it’s true. After I recovered and helped the gang get over the annoying ague, the cough came back around and smacked me down a second time. Oh well, this too shall pass. But having Honey comment on my tomb-like position in bed when I’m trying to do him a favor so he can get some shut-eye is getting kinda old. That’s all I’m saying. BUT this is not what I want to talk about at the moment. I have more important things to discuss. Epic things.
Honey and music.
We all know Honey, right? There he was watching the Masters yesterday. <- Yeah, don’t get excited. I’m referring to the game of golf, not dominant and interesting men. 
Anyways, I’m in the kitchen putting together dinner and I hear a song I haven’t heard in a long time.
Have I mentioned that I suck at song titles? I was never good at Name That Tune, and then – just to elevate my song title suckiness – my daughter loaded my iPod with my favorite songs by labelling certain songs by the movie titles they headlined. Here’s an example of this kind of fail.
There I was telling my girlfriend that I really loved Almost Famous, and she asked, “The movie?”
I shook my head, “The song.”
“Who sings it?”
“No, not The Who, Yes does.”
“Yes Yes?”
“Yeah.” Then I sing the stanza “I’ve seen all good people…” and she falls on the floor laughing. After which she explained to her asshole friend *waves that’s me* that Almost Famous was a movie and that the Yes song was the title track to it. Perfect. So now you know how badly I suck at music titles and in a moment you shall learn why I have never had the inclination to bone-up in the “name that song title” Jeopardy category. Here’s the conversation.
I call to Honey. “Oh, I love that song. What’s the title?”
He says with no, and I mean absolutely no hesitation, “Baba O’Riley, it should be easy for you to remember.”
You see? Why do I have to be good at remembering titles when I live with a music title aficionado? So you gotta know I agreed with him even though I really hadn’t heard, made note, or even gave a flying rat’s wiz to remember the title. When I needed to know it I’d simply ask him again.
Fast forward an hour after dinner when I’m going to retire to my office and do some editing. Here’s the conversation.
“Hey, what was the name of that song again? I’m going to see if it’s on my iPod.”
He scowled in that “oh so condescending” way of his, and then asked, “How have you forgotten it so soon? You have to remember the last part. It’s Baba…?”
First off, him speaking to me as if I’m a child was really pissing me off, and secondly, him leaning forward as if he expected me to play along with his brilliant teacher to idiot student game. Yeah, I wasn’t happy about that. “Buba what?”
“You tell me.”
I wanted to tell him something, alright. “I don’t know.”
“Baba…?”
And suddenly my memory was stirred, and I exclaimed, “Baba ganoush!”
LMAO! I can honestly say the blank look on his face followed by his full-blown laughter was priceless. When he finally managed to pull himself together he shook his head. “Baba ganoush? What the hell is that?”
I lifted my chin up a notch and lied, “A song.” It knew full well it wasn’t a song. I also knew it was something edible, but I couldn’t remember what exactly so I fudged it, but he wasn’t buying it.
“No it’s not.”
I was ready to hide the sharp objects if he knew what it was. Thankfully he didn’t. After he studied me for a few seconds he said, “The Who song is Baba O’Riley.”
At that point, I was sure, are you effing kidding me was written all over my face. How could I have forgotten the Riley part, sheesh.
He waited until I was almost in the hall when he called, “Maybe your new vampire sleeping position is damaging your concentration.”
Aggravating? Don’t ask. I spun around and said, “Maybe you should try sleeping like a vampire so I can get some peace and quiet.” This was the equivalent of a “so there!” because, like me Honey only snores when he’s sick too. Which he wasn’t at the moment. At least not physically.
*shakes head*
Fast forward to bedtime. As usual I tuck the poochie in her little bed for the night while Honey washes up and stuff. Then he heads to bed and I wash up. It’s a ritual, only last night when I come out of the bathroom and go to turn off the light he asks in this really husky/sexy voice, “How’s my little vampire tonight?”
I was going to tell him I was bloody tired, but the words got stuck in my throat when I turned to him. No kidding. The guy was lying in our bed, flat on his back, arms crossed over his chest in a very vampire-esque way, staring at the ceiling. That’s not the best part. The frigging ass had taken our duvet and twisted it up in an impressive phallic shape structure right over his you-know-what area!
I deadpanned, “Why if it isn’t Count Dickula. Hello.”
He lifted his head and looked right at me. “It’s Prickula.” Then he winked, and with a great big smile, he said, “Richard is my brother.”
I cracked up. The guy is so bizarre that…well, he fits me to a ‘T’. Love it!
But now he’s got me thinking. I want a cute vampire name too. Maybe Baba Ganoushula?
Riley
P.S Baba ganoush is a starter or appetizer in Syria and Lebanon made out of eggplant, and why I would remember something like this – at that particular moment is scaring the hell out of me. It is a snow globe moment for sure.
Anyone else ever had one of those?