Well, dear readers, here I sit at 5:22 am, beginning to write these here notes. Why am I up at this unholy hour? Well, I’ll tell you why I’m up at this unholy hour because, frankly, you have a right to know. I am up at this unholy hour because at 3:31 am my handy-dandy phone began to ring. Naturally, said ringing woke me up. I answered the phone and after a brief silence I began to hear “beep…beep…beep…beep”. I immediately said, “Who the hell is this?” The reply was, “beep…beep…beep…beep”. I said, “What’s your point, you stupid piece of dog snot”. The reply was, “beep…beep…beep…beep”. I then got very haughty and said, “Listen carefully to me, don’t ever call here again!” and then I hung up. Can you imagine? 3:31 in the morning and someone calls me to beep? What kind of world do we live in? I *69d the Phantom Beeper but it was a private number. Yes, you heard it here, dear readers, the scum-sucking beeper had a private number. Well, I just call blocked the little wazoo and there will be no more beeping from that private number, at least not to me. I get a lot of weird calls like that, so I think I’m going to have to do something I really hate: Turn on my call screening so that private numbers have to push a code which enables me to see their number. That way, when I get a call at 3:31 in the morning and it says “Beeper” I shall not answer the phone. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! That will show these cretin beepers a thing or two. Mess around with me, sister!
I’m very tired right now. I’m yawning right now. I feel that whoever invented the word “yawn” did a very good job. That word “yawn” is just perfect to describe a yawn, isn’t it? Perhaps I’ll go outside and yawn on my lawn.
Well, that was a piquant paragraph, wasn’t it? That was tart, like a lemon frappe. It had a certain brevity that was admirable, I feel. What the hell is a lemon frappe? Beep…beep…beep…beep…
Thus far, I feel these notes are the equivalent of my phone call this morning – an endless drone. But what can I talk about at 5:39 in the morning? I can barely even see what I’m typing, let alone form any coherent thoughts. Perhaps if I had a lemon frappe I could form some coherent thoughts.
Perhaps if we all click that Unseemly Button below I will be able to form some coherent thoughts. Let’s try, shall we?
Nope, not a coherent thought in sight. jfeqaiowqjeeen qwcnq[cinwojqecniqiecnfeifjcqwe[ifjcqifjcqiwfjcqjfcqwifjiejfiqjfqijfcqij…. Oops, I just put my head on the keyboard because I’m so tired. I like that sentence. Look at it, sitting there like a piece of dead scrod. It’s code, actually. See if you can break the code – if you can, it will reveal some rather startling information I’ve uncovered about a wayward lemon frappe.
On to more important things. We have a Highest Winner in our handy-dandy Unseemly Trivia Contest. We had several good but incorrect guesses, but only one correct guess. The question was:
A very well-known theater songwriter was once in the midst of an out-of-town tryout of their new musical. Because the songwriter had a run-in with the law while the show was out-of-town and because of being detained, other songwriters wrote additional material when it was deemed that the show needed a lot of work before coming in for its Broadway run. Name the songwriter, name the show, name the additional songwriters and name the cause for the run-in with the law.
Our very own Lolita got the correct answer. I did say there was a clue buried within the notes on Saturday, the day the question appeared. And I also clarified that I was not talking about a traffic offense regarding the run-in with the law (a couple of people guessed it was Jerry Herman and Hello, Dolly!). No, the answer is Mr. Lionel Bart, the show was La Strada, the additional songwriters were Elliot Lawrence and Martin Charnin (by the time the show reached Broadway, they were, in fact, responsible for most of the score, even though Mr. Bart got the credit). The cause for the run-in with the law was fairly serious and had to do with Mr. Bart’s drug use. If Lolita will send us her handy-dandy address then she shall receive a sparklingly wonderful prize.
I wish I had something coherent to say, but the thoughts in my head are like an elusive butterfly of love. The thoughts in my head are as fleeting as a lemon frappe gone bad. Tomorrow I shall have nothing but coherent thoughts and I shall be piquant and pithy and filled with wit and substance, not necessarily in that order. Perhaps I’ll go over to eBay right now and see if there are any coherent thoughts coming up for auction. I have the feeling I know who’s responsible for all these little phone things, and let me tell you that if I’m correct the guilty party will rue the day. Oh, yes, they will rue the day. They will rue I tell you. Rue is what they will do. They will rue the day and the day will rue them, because they are rude and should be well rued. Thus I say and thus I need say no more.
Well, dear readers, I see by the handy-dandy clock on my handy-dandy laptop computer, that it is now 5:58 am. I think I will go climb back into bed and see if I can get another hour or two of sleep. Today’s topic of discussion: The lemon frappe. And, since Mr. Lionel Bart was the subject of our trivia contest, what are your favorite Lionel Bart songs? I’ll start: I would be remiss if I said that I didn’t love practically the entire score to Mr. Bart’s Oliver! Especially the lovely Where Is Love?, the bouncy Consider Yourself, the haunting and then ebullient Who Will Buy?, and the gorgeous As Long as He Needs Me. And, of course, the great opener, Food, Glorious Food. I am also very fond of Mr. Bart’s title song to From Russia With Love. I also like the opening number of Blitz!, Our Hotel. Plus lots of Twang! and Maggie May. Your turn.