Last night, Jif and I were watching a music show called “Crossroads,” in which artists from two different genres of music get together and sing each others’ songs. This one featured Lionel Richie and Kenny Rogers.
Kenny brought back fond memories of one day at dooce.com when I posted purt’ near the entire lyrics to the heinously irresistible “Ruby (Don’t Take Your Love to Town),” much to the disgust of many other commenters and UPPERCASE GOD who found “Ruby” to be a smiteworthy offense.
Lionel brought back some memories, too. Before he was Paris Hilton’s ex-best-friend’s Daddy, he was a brilliant songwriter. I asked Jif if he had a favorite Lionel Richie song.
“What’s that one, ‘Sail On,’ or something like that? I like that one.”
I tried to think of my favorite. There were a lot of good ones. It was easier to think of the one I didn’t like. “I’ll tell you which song of his that most people loved, but I absolutely HATED. ‘Three Times a Lady.’ Oh my gosh, I despise that song!”
“Why do you hate that one?”
“Because I have no idea what the hell it means! I understand being a lady. Once. But twice? And three times? What the hell is he talking about? Does he mean she’s about 400 pounds? She’s three times the size of a lady? WHAT? WHAT???”
Jif is laughing.
“I’ll tell you one thing. You’d better not ever dedicate that song to me.” Well, this was the exact WRONG thing for me to say to him.
“I’m going to dedicate that song to you the first chance I get. Maybe on your birthday: To my beautiful wife, you’re three times a lady! Just try not to make it four!”