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Rocktober day 20
Oct. 20th, 2011 03:59 pmToday's song:
Look At Me, I'm Sandra Dee from the movie Grease, sung by Stockard Channing
Keep your filthy paws / off my silky draws / Would you pull that crap with Annette?
This was one of those songs I puzzled over as a kid. I was 9 years old when the movie was released, and I remember saving up my money so I could go to Zayres and buy the double album soundtrack. Then my friends and I would sit in my room, and play the records over and over. Until my mother kicked us out, since it was the summer of course, and we should go outside and play. So I cleverly recorded it on my tape recorder that I had received the previous Christmas:
(Not actual tape recorder owned by me, but reasonable facsimile for illustration purposes.)
Previously, my brother and I had used this tape recorder to spy on our parents (we would hit record and leave it under the couch when they had guests over, thinking we would get something juicy, but it was too muffled to be of any use, sadly. Honestly, I don't know what we thought we'd get, we just liked to pretend we were spies), but for the Grease soundtrack, I put the little handheld mic right up next to the record player speakers, and recorded all the songs I liked (because the double album couldn't fit on one cassette). Oh, the fabulous audio quality! And since the tape recorder ran on batteries, we could take the Grease soundtrack (abridged) tape outside and listen to it obsessively in the sunshine!
But we puzzled over this song! All these references we didn't get (Troy Donahue! Sandra Dee! Annette! Annette who? We knew Doris Day and Rock Hudson and Elvis, but didn't get the "pelvis" thing). So of course, I asked my mother, who was both horrified that I didn't know and glad to explain all the teen idols of her day.
One thing she didn't explain was the word "fongool" though. "Oh, it's just some nonsense word she's saying," she told me and my friends and my younger brother, who was also a big Grease fan, obviously figuring it was better to ignore than explain. So, sure, no problem, we accepted that, and went around singing this (and all the other songs from Grease) at the top of our lungs for months.
This, of course, came back to bite her in the ass. Months later, we were on the way home from my grandmother's house, and my brother and I had the tape recorder in the backseat and were singing along to the (abridged) soundtrack. First we sang, "Look At Me, I'm Sandra Dee" and my father flipped out. "What the hell? Did they just say fongool? What the hell are they listening to? Why would you let them sing that?" While my mother tried to calm him and assure him we didn't know what we were singing, the song ended, and "Greased Lightnin'" began. Which was also a sing-a-long favorite. We knew the word "shit" was bad, so we never sang that, but the rest of the words? It was a song about a car! We didn't get any of the rest of it! So the following scene ensued:
My brother and I: we'll be gettin' lots of tit in greased lightnin'
My father: What the hell? Now they're singing about tits?
My mother: Calm down.
My brother and I: the chicks'll cream for greased lightnin'
My father: Cream? THE CHICKS WILL CREAM? What is this?!
My mother: Calm down!
My brother and I: With new pistons, plugs, and shocks, I can get off my rocks / You know that I ain't braggin', she's a real pussy wagon - greased lightnin'
My father: WHAT THE HELL? PUSSY WAGON? GET THEIR ROCKS OFF? WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? JESUS CHRIST!
My mother, over her shoulder: Better turn off the music now.
My brother and I: NOOOOOOOOOOOO! MUMMY! WE WERE JUST SINGING! WE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! NOOOOO!
My mother: DO IT.
My father: *lets loose with a stream of curses, both in English and Armenian, that would shame the father from A Christmas Story*
My mother patiently explained, when we got home, that we were never allowed to sing or play those songs again in front of Daddy.
And if you read that whole thing, here's a bonus song: Greased Lightnin'
Now you too can sing about pussy wagons! :D Just not in front of your dads, okay? I don't want to get in trouble.
Look At Me, I'm Sandra Dee from the movie Grease, sung by Stockard Channing
Keep your filthy paws / off my silky draws / Would you pull that crap with Annette?
This was one of those songs I puzzled over as a kid. I was 9 years old when the movie was released, and I remember saving up my money so I could go to Zayres and buy the double album soundtrack. Then my friends and I would sit in my room, and play the records over and over. Until my mother kicked us out, since it was the summer of course, and we should go outside and play. So I cleverly recorded it on my tape recorder that I had received the previous Christmas:
(Not actual tape recorder owned by me, but reasonable facsimile for illustration purposes.)
Previously, my brother and I had used this tape recorder to spy on our parents (we would hit record and leave it under the couch when they had guests over, thinking we would get something juicy, but it was too muffled to be of any use, sadly. Honestly, I don't know what we thought we'd get, we just liked to pretend we were spies), but for the Grease soundtrack, I put the little handheld mic right up next to the record player speakers, and recorded all the songs I liked (because the double album couldn't fit on one cassette). Oh, the fabulous audio quality! And since the tape recorder ran on batteries, we could take the Grease soundtrack (abridged) tape outside and listen to it obsessively in the sunshine!
But we puzzled over this song! All these references we didn't get (Troy Donahue! Sandra Dee! Annette! Annette who? We knew Doris Day and Rock Hudson and Elvis, but didn't get the "pelvis" thing). So of course, I asked my mother, who was both horrified that I didn't know and glad to explain all the teen idols of her day.
One thing she didn't explain was the word "fongool" though. "Oh, it's just some nonsense word she's saying," she told me and my friends and my younger brother, who was also a big Grease fan, obviously figuring it was better to ignore than explain. So, sure, no problem, we accepted that, and went around singing this (and all the other songs from Grease) at the top of our lungs for months.
This, of course, came back to bite her in the ass. Months later, we were on the way home from my grandmother's house, and my brother and I had the tape recorder in the backseat and were singing along to the (abridged) soundtrack. First we sang, "Look At Me, I'm Sandra Dee" and my father flipped out. "What the hell? Did they just say fongool? What the hell are they listening to? Why would you let them sing that?" While my mother tried to calm him and assure him we didn't know what we were singing, the song ended, and "Greased Lightnin'" began. Which was also a sing-a-long favorite. We knew the word "shit" was bad, so we never sang that, but the rest of the words? It was a song about a car! We didn't get any of the rest of it! So the following scene ensued:
My brother and I: we'll be gettin' lots of tit in greased lightnin'
My father: What the hell? Now they're singing about tits?
My mother: Calm down.
My brother and I: the chicks'll cream for greased lightnin'
My father: Cream? THE CHICKS WILL CREAM? What is this?!
My mother: Calm down!
My brother and I: With new pistons, plugs, and shocks, I can get off my rocks / You know that I ain't braggin', she's a real pussy wagon - greased lightnin'
My father: WHAT THE HELL? PUSSY WAGON? GET THEIR ROCKS OFF? WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? JESUS CHRIST!
My mother, over her shoulder: Better turn off the music now.
My brother and I: NOOOOOOOOOOOO! MUMMY! WE WERE JUST SINGING! WE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! NOOOOO!
My mother: DO IT.
My father: *lets loose with a stream of curses, both in English and Armenian, that would shame the father from A Christmas Story*
My mother patiently explained, when we got home, that we were never allowed to sing or play those songs again in front of Daddy.
And if you read that whole thing, here's a bonus song: Greased Lightnin'
Now you too can sing about pussy wagons! :D Just not in front of your dads, okay? I don't want to get in trouble.
