This afternoon I had Gwen Stefani's Sweet Escape stuck in my head. I sung Akon's wonderful 'wooh-hooo yeee-hooo' high notes walking across an overpass out of the Sheraton Marina Mirage where I had just enjoyed an illegal dip in the swimming facilities.
Retiring for the evening with a cup of tea I find myself singing Anita Ward's Ring My Bell (you know the one, "You can ring my bel-ell-lll, ring my bell..."). The first two songs I can explain. But where the fuck did Ring My Bell come from? There are thousands of songs lurking neath the waters of our subconscious but every now & then one pierces the surface for no good reason & strolls up the shores of our conscious thoughts. The whole thing strikes me as weird, dear readers.
Must off to finish my tea. (*Ambles away softly humming Ring My Bell...*.)
Tsk, tsk, tsk, I just found this on YouTube
This could have gone either way with me. Fake jugs can be a scream. But there's something about the harasment of this innocent cat for the enjoyment of two easily amused menfolk who, through the magic of static electricity & pink balloons, think they've stumbled across the party trick of the century; frankly, it's distasteful. Do they have a fetish for animal cruelty & perky breasts? Do they masturbate to this? So many questions, so little time.