bring the noyz

For the love of all that is holy I do not for one single moment understand why, oh why my dear reader, that The Wife would do such a thing to me.

But she did.

A week or so ago, whilst perusing the hundreds of quality digital cable television channels in search of fine programming for our viewing pleasure, we came across a music video on VH1 classic. It was a Heart video, not the one where they stretch the picture to make Ann Wilson look thinner, but some other lame-ass video from that mid to late eighties era.

The Wife asked if it was the video, for "that song, you know. . . "

". . . the one where she picks up a homeless guy and bangs him in a cheap motel?" I finished her sentence, because we have a habit of doing this and are near perfectly in harmony with each other. "Nah, that's not this one, that song was called something like. . . "

"All I wanna do is make love to you."

Although I hoped she was making a suggestion, I knew that it was her turn to finish my sentence and she was just naming the song.

"Yeah, that's it."

Not five minutes later, with a little help from our friendly neighborhood file sharing network, I heard the most boring beat and bass line ever emerge from the cute round speakers of our imac:

What! The horror! "No! Please no!" I shreiked. But it was too late. The Wife had downloaded the song and was playing it. Loudly.

It was a rainy night
When he came into sight,
Standing by the road,
No umbrella, no coat.

So maybe it wasn't really a homeless guy, just some other guy without the sense to get in out of the rain.

All I wanna do is make love to you
Say you will
You want me too

Ooooh. The visual of late eighties Ann Wilson getting it on is not a pretty one. Ann Wilson in the seventies is a different story entirely.

So we found this hotel,
It was a place I knew well

It was a place she knew well? The tramp.

We made magic that night.
Oh, he did everything right
He brought the woman out of me,
So many times, easily

Wow. That's just great. I am so happy to hear that she had multiple orgasms. Good for her. Although that crosses the line of too much information.

And in the morning when he woke all
I left him was a note.

That's right baby: hit it, quit it, then forget it. Or, if I may be so bold so as to draw a comparison using the parlance of today's youth, "drop it like it's hot".

I am the flower you are the seed
We walked in the garden
We planted a tree.

AAAGGH! Awful poetry. Worst lyrics ever.

Oh, oooh, we made love
Love like strangers
All night long
We made love

Again, too much information. "love like strangers"? Icky.

Then it happened one day,
We came round the same way
You can imagine his surprise
When he saw his own eyes

Ah, now I understand the point of this touching song. She picked up strangers and banged them in some cheap motel because she wanted to get knocked up. The tramp. I'll bet she did it because single mothers are eligible for welfare and more government benefits than single whores.

I said please, please understand
I’m in love with another man
And what he couldn’t give me
Was the one little thing that you can

Oh, the bittersweet irony! She loves an impotent guy. Or at best some dude who's little soldiers aren't marching. Does this other guy not mind that his wife/girlfriend is a slut? I mean, really, what's his story?

All I wanna do is make love to you
Say you will, you want me too

All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long

AAAGGH! This happened over a week ago. I can't get that stupid song out of my head. It haunts me ("I am the flower. . . you are the seed" )!

If there is any justice in this world, the song now haunts you as well my dear reader, if only for awhile because misery loves company, and I love you, my dear reader.

All I wanna do is make love to you.
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