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Showing posts with label George Michael. Show all posts
Showing posts with label George Michael. Show all posts

Sunday, May 25, 2014

#MM : I'm Playing Our Song ♫




On May 25, 1986, Americans attempted to make a human chain called Hands Across America. The idea was to raise money for charity by having people join hands from coast to coast. Unfortunately, the chain broke in the sparse western United States. On the same day strangers linked hands, my husband and I joined our hands in Holy Matrimony. Yep! Twenty-eight years later, and we're still hitched. 

Since it's our wedding anniversary, it makes sense to play our song. It's words and meaning aren't the best pick, but it's the huge hit we danced to during our dating days, and we've always claimed it to be our song. Here's George Michael singing ♯♫ Careless Whisper. ♩♬




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Sunday, July 29, 2012

#GBE2: Unexpected

I love the unexpected in film, whether it's a nerd in the shower or finding a golden ticket in a Wonka Bar. These are the little things that make movies worth watching because who wants to see the expected?


 As a youngster, my family visited a quaint little park called Dog Patch USA, located in the Missouri Ozarks. This closed theme park was based on the L'il Abner comic strip and had a cute hillbilly charm about it. I don't remember much at my young age, but I'll never forget the unexpected when opening the door to the men's restroom. I would have used the ladies' room, but a sign told me it was out of order. When I opened the door, a deep voiced man sitting on the pot screamed, "Close the dang door! Doesn't anyone have any decency around here?" Turns out the unexpected man was a statue with a taped message sure to scare the pee out of anyone looking for a restroom. So Dogpatch!


Years later, I remember the unexpected in college. I don't know why the full length poster of George Michael hanging in my room was unexpected because I'm the one who taped it to the dang wall to begin with; however, he scared the begeeze out of me when I spied him standing over my bed in the middle of the night. Little did I know back in the eighties, that handsome man star would have been more interested in my husband than me. Double unexpected.


Now-a-days, the unexpected usually means something bad like the handle falling off the microwave, a tick on the dog, or most recently, a 95 year old man smashing my car door while I shopped inside the target. It's not a good sign to hear over the store speaker, "Will the owner of a black, Volkswagon convertible please come to the service desk?"

It's been two weeks and we're still driving the rental car and waiting for the repairs to be complete. Should it be expected to be without my car for so long? I don't think so. Unexpected was fun as a kid. Now, not so much.