Quick, Hide the Matches



393165_10151483168548347_1071510991_nWhat do Eminem and a wasp in a jar have in common? Besides the obvious anger issues, I honestly don’t have a clue. But what do Eminem and I have in common? Unless he never turns on his radio, then I think it’s safe to assume we both know the words to Call Me Maybe. Did you think I was going to say we both knew the words to Lose Yourself? Yeah, I don’t know the words to that. I’m more of a John Mellencamp type of girl.

The list of “rap-esque” songs that I know all the words to goes something like this: Magic and So Good by B.o.B, Good Feelin’ by Flo Rida, Where is the Love by Black Eyed Peas, Dirt Road Anthem by Jason Aldean, U Can’t Touch This by MC Hammer, This is How We Do It by Montell Jordan, Lip Gloss by Lil Mama (I am still uncertain how that happened), and the instrumental version of Gangnam Style by PSY. Should I be embarrassed that this is my repertoire or by the fact that I needed to use the dictionary to spell repertoire? Maybe, maybe not.

To top it all off, my friend Emily and I decided to learn the lyrics to We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel. This may not be the most adrenaline boosting Bucket List feat of all time, but learning the words to a difficult song presents a fun challenge, and it makes a great party trick (I’m not sure what kind of parties you attend…but it worked for Anna Kendrick at the Riff Off in Pitch Perfect). I am unashamed of my love for Billy Joel, but I am ashamed that I assumed it was equally likely that “Trouble in the Suez” was “Trouble in the Sewers” and that I always utter random syllables instead of saying “Dien Bien Phu Falls”. I also tend to overcompensate for words I miss by shouting the ones I do know, which almost always results in me yelling “British politician sex” at inopportune times.

But never fear, fellow lovers of Billy Joel, because I have been practicing. Emily and I have been hard at work training ourselves to not leave out important players like Walter Winchell (who even is that?), Brando, and Malenkov while we try to sing the 44+ other random nouns that appear per verse in rapid succession. I have been jamming out to the song in my own personal moving music box, or what some people refer to as a car. Regardless of labeling, I always take full advantage of the metal box that you can sing in while no one can hear or judge you (unless you leave the windows down and make awkward eye contact while you air-banjo to Mumford and Sons or belt out Sinatra’s You Make Me Feel So Young because when you sing it in the house your mother tells you that it ages you 100 years). With the help of said moving music box, I am just a few tricky words away from knowing We Didn’t Start the Fire by heart. A few more trips and I suspect my repertoire will have reached its full potential.


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