Man, who invited Buzzkill Bieber?

Andy and I were about to go to a concert (known to youths as a "gig") this evening when—BAM—I got a severe stomach ache. We were at the bus stop when it hit me. The thought of being far away from my home toilet was too much to bear. We went back to the apartment, I got in the bath and Andy gave the tickets away on Reddit.

We consoled ourselves by thinking of how much fun the lucky recipient—a broke college student—must be having. We remember the time when strangers gave us their extra tickets to Alcatraz. It was so kind. Now we've made good with the universe.

Universe.

Universe. My mom hates the word. Not so much the word itself, but how people toss it around willy-nilly for their ambiguous spiritual statements. It's filler. "I'm sending positive thoughts into the universe" is the new "boy, some weather we're having."

She's tired of it. I can't say I blame her.

Switching gears, who is your celebrity look alike? I've been told Ally Hilfiger (star of MTV's "Rich Girls", Tommy Hilfiger's daughter and current Chronic Lyme Disease sufferer along with Yolanda and Avril) and Kimberly J. Brown, the girl from the Disney Channel original movie "Halloween Town".

I can see it. Except that girl has a butt chin and I don't.

Oh god, I just realized that I've blogged about this before. I've officially run out of things to say.

Happy almost Halloween,

Margaret

P.S. Woops, almost forgot the reason why you clicked on this post! Here you go, behold the world's most uptight popstar:

Things I don't understand

I picked my nose after dicing a jalepeno pepper and paid the price. Right now, as I type this, my right nostril is burning like charcoal and my eye is raining hot acid tears.

Perhaps Skeegles is punishing me for nose-picking. I've tried so hard to quit, particularly now that I live in an apartment with so much passing foot traffic outside the living room windows, but it's just so hardwired in me. I've been picking since I was a child! I picked in the womb!

OK, enough smalltalk. The 'meat' of this post is going to be a list of things I don't understand.

Things I don't understand:

• How the Internet works
• Why operas are considered good
• Justin Bieber's popularity (I love 99% of pop music, but have never liked his songs)
• Gaucho pants
• Space
• Fire
• How glass is actually just hot sand
• The stock market

Stocks! Shares! Bonds! Currency! Derivatives!
Sell! Buy! Buy! Sell!
Ding-a-ling-a-ling! Money money money!
Computer screens!
Shouting!
Hand gestures!
STOCK MARKET!

Yours,
Margaret

P.S. Skeegles is the name of the divine being, the universal lifeforce, the prime mover, the Creator, Yahweh, Lord, God—whatever you want to call it—in the religion my friends and I made up back in sixth grade. But as an avid Madgespace reader, you should know that by now.

P.P.S. What happens if you lie when someone asks you to 'swear on Skeegles'? If caught, you must shave off your eyebrows.

All aboard!

Today I peaked behind a curtain I wish I hadn't. I saw the train conductor perform an announcement over the loudspeaker—FROM THE TRAIN KITCHEN.

Naturally, I was appalled. I'd always assumed the trusty voice overhead was coming from the control room, from the man behind the wheel. But all this time it was one of his colleagues speaking into a plastic phone next to a crockpot of Ivar's clam chowder.

It gets worse. After the announcement, the guy walks by my table, grabs my empty pretzel bag and throws it away for me! First he uses a tiny train kitchen as communications HQ, then he fills in as train janitor! I was embarrassed and ashamed that someone in such a respected role—locomotive engineer—was cleaning up my trash.

He should be:
...Autographing a child's toy steam engine
...Ringing a bell and waving to fellow conductors in passing trains
...Getting a bronze statue of him erected in his hometown
...Shouting 'All aboard!' and then helping a lady in white gloves with a circle-shaped purse hop on the train at the last second

NOT going home with pretzel grease on his hands, uniform stinking of Ivar's clam chowder.

Image by Ben Schumin via Wikimedia Commons

Goodnight,
Margaret

P.S. The thoughts I expressed above occurred in my brain over a two-second timeframe. It's amazing how much the brain processes in so little time. Writing the thoughts down took at least 10 times longer than my brain spent creating then. And now that I've taken the time to write them down, I'm not sure it was worthwhile. Oh well.

Sock tales

Do you sleep with your socks on?

I don't, but sometimes I make myself just so I can have the satisfaction of kicking them off in the middle of the night.

If the thought of sleeping in socks makes your skin crawl, get this: my friend Igor doesn't just sleep in them, he tucks his pyjama bottoms into them. No exposed ankles allowed.

"The earliest known surviving pair of socks, created by naalbinding. Dating from 300-500, these were excavated from Oxyrhynchus on the Nile in Egypt. The split toes were designed for use with sandals." - Wikipedia

Image by David Jackson via Wikimedia Commons

Here's some real talk: forget the cool side of the pillow—how about no pillow at all? That's right. Andy and I have both soured on pillows over the past few years. We may start the night with our heads atop the suffocating feather sacks, but eventually they wind up at the foot of the bed or tucked under our arms like teddy bears. There's nothing quite like feeling your cheek against the cold, firm mattress. Try it sometime.

Cheers,
Margaret

P.S. One of the biggest flaws of this blog is that it only contains the last thing that pops into my mind right before I go to bed. That's why so much of it revolves around sleep, tiredness and Real Housewives.

But I want to be better. As of tomorrow I will start taking notes on the many blog ideas I have throughout the day.

I'll write about the time I fell off a bridge into a creek during a family hike, how my dad jumped in to save me and how my mom, unaware of the circumstances, fell in shortly after his heroic jump.

I'll write about the time my mom, cousin Martha, cousin Joe and I applied to be on the Amazing Race 'Groups' edition. We filmed ourselves describing how much we would butt heads. A friend of a friend edited it in his high school video production class and then we sent the VHS off to Los Angeles in a padded manila envelope. We never heard back, but it was the reason I got a passport—you had to have one in order to apply.

I'll write about my true thoughts on weddings.

I'll mourn the Nordstorm Brass Plum of yesteryear.

I'll write about how getting a Master's in Theology turned me into an atheist.

I'll choose one housewife from each franchise to transfer to another housewife city and describe why I think they'd thrive in their new home.

I'll talk about my fascination with mass hysteria like the Salem Witch Trials and the Dancing Plague of 1518.

I'll post old snaps and video from my childhood.

I'll share my family's secret 'cream cheese dip' recipe.

I'll give away another festive hat.

SO STAY TUNED!

Dogs, Driving & Potstickers

When people walk their dogs around Green Lake they stop and pause to let the precious pooches sniff other canines passing by. The owners don't talk; they just pause for several seconds as their animals give one another a big ol' sniff.

If you're a dog owner, this isn't interesting. If you aren't, it's a very funny thing to observe.

Speaking of dogs, Andy (haha) drove a car today! First time driving in America as an official resident. A few things:

• We aren't sure why, but it's totally OK for him to drive a Car2Go with a British license. Seems wrong to me, but hey, I'm not questioning it. 

• When people who are used to driving on the left side (Brits, Irish, Bhutanese, etc.) drive on the right side, they always want to hug the shoulder. For whatever reason, they feel like they're about to hit the cars on the left, so they constantly drift into the right lane / shoulder. Without a local barking at them from the passenger seat, they would hit a guardrail 80% of the time. 

• Supervising Andy's US driving is the only time I'm able to nag him and get away with it. I'm LOVING IT. 

Speaking of loving things, I used to go ape for potstickers when I was in junior high. Got two bags of them from PCC for dinner tonight—not as good as I remember. 

Goodnight, 

Margaret

P.S. Was anyone else already sick of Back To The Future Day by about 9:30am this morning? Jeez. Sometimes the Internet can really beat a dead horse. I'm not looking forward to what it makes of Beat a Dead Horse Day (April 15th 2018). 

From the Archives, Edition 12

For this edition of 'From the Archives', please enjoy not one but TWO g-chats with my sister Anna from back in 2011.

10:44 AM me: neigh, what are your thoughts on skinny jeans with heels

  i am thinking about it

 Anna: i have done it

 me: ok

  i may do it tonight

10:45 AM my other jeans are too long

 Anna: it took a lot to get me to walk out the door in that, but all my friends said its hard to get used to looking at yourself like that but it looks good to others

 me: ok, good to know

 Anna: too long for heels?

 me: haha

  yeah

  insanely long

  ive worn them like twice

 Anna: must hem

 me: they're from years ago

  i will

  project for the weekend

 Anna: indeed

 me: alright, going to eat dinner then it's off to the pub

  danke

  tootles

 Anna: tootles

  have fun

---

12:57 PM me: it's going to cost a shite-load to get a frickin crown on my tooth!

  UGHHHH

 Anna: I thought everything was free overthere

12:58 PM me: The NHS only covers gold crowns

  and my tooth is visable

  so I will have to pay private costs

 Anna: yuck

  how much?

 me: Well, it seems to vary

  I can't get a straight answer from the internet so I am going to shop around and call my dentist to find out

12:59 PM but it's at least 100 pounds

  maybe more like 300

 Anna: barf

  i guess you have to do it though

 me: yeah, I don't know why they didn't just give me a crown today

  i guess they want to make sure the root canal worked

 Anna: they did that with me too when i had mine

1:00 PM temperary, and then go back in a few weeks for the crown

  is the pain gone?

 me: well, I didn't get a temporary

  just got a root canal, then a filling

 Anna: oh

 me: and then I guess they'll have to wittle it down and give me a crown

  or something

 Anna: hmmm

 me: who knows

 Anna: that might be right

  i can't remember

  arghhh

1:01 PM hate tooth problems

 me: i had to pay 67 for the root canal

  it's been such a pain- over three weeks of horrible toothache and this was the fourth time i've been to the dentist

  and i can never get any work done on dentist days

  oh well

 Anna: ick

 me: i just hope it worked

 Anna: you will have to write a lot to cover that

1:02 PM me: yep

  and i need to buy my flight

 Anna: pull an all nighter and just write like 20

 me: yeah, i need to

 Anna: i heard flights are pricey right now because of high oil prices

 me: yeah, they are

1:03 PM Anna: and gadafi

 me: the are up another 100 pounds from when I last checked

 Anna: atleast you have malta

 me: i am excited

 Anna: should be fun

  if you need to borrow $ let me know

 me: no, I'm ok

 Anna: barrow or borrow

  how do you spell that

 me: borrow

  barrow is wheelbarrow

 Anna: barrow is kenmore accent

1:04 PM me: gotta love the k-town accent

 Anna: heard you and C were getting pedis

 me: yeah, andy won a 20 pound voucher at this Edinburgh University event

  and they are 10 pounds each

  perfect!

 Anna: thats awesome

 me: going right before the flight

 Anna: fun

  such a treat

1:05 PM me: yeah, my nails are gross

 Anna: ditto

 me: how's alex's ski?

  broken?

 Anna: broken

  how did you know

  he got new ones

  so

 me: his brother's facebook status

 Anna: his friend who owns a ski shop gave him 50% off

  i see

1:06 PM   

BTW

  played rebecca black for dad

  he went into shock

1:08 PM me: haha

  has he never heard anything that bad?

 Anna: no

  he could not get over it

  we were all watching the UW basketball game

  and I would hear him singing it under his breath

  HA

  friday friday friday

1:09 PM and then he would complain about how horrible it was

 me: hahaha

  it is really captivating

  something about her smile

 Anna: i got to show it to F & Carly for the first time too

  they loved it

 me: it really gets stuck in your head

  I love when she explains that thursday was yesterday

  and saturday is tomrrow

 Anna: best part

 me: haha

1:10 PM Anna: so literal

 me: just when you think it could not get any simplier

  yeah

 Anna: hilarious

  when are you going to try and come home?

 me: me: mid july through mid sept

  andy: mid july through mid august

 Anna: well- we are goine July 8-29 if you want to house sit for us

1:11 PM and by house sit i mean stay there

1:12 PM me: that would be fab

  are you getting excited yet?

  or does it seem far away?

 Anna: kinda

  it still seems far away

  but its not that far

1:14 PM me: no, it's not

  it's going to be amazing

1:15 PM Anna: i can't wait

 me: you do have to climb a mountain...

  but that will be rewarding

 Anna: its going to be hard

1:16 PM but

  cool

 me: you're in shape

 Anna: you never know with the elevation though

 me: don't watch Everest before you go

 Anna: no shite

  when is your 1/2 marathon

 me: end of May I think

  yikes

  how was the one you ran?

1:17 PM Anna: good- more hills then i remember

  but i had a really good time

  so

  good I guess

  i am so sore now

 me: what a great feeling to have it over and done with

 Anna: so nice

1:18 PM not to think about it anymore

  brb

1:20 PM me: going to make linguini! ta!

Goodnight,
Margaret

P.S. I made a conscious choice not to care about the Seahawks this year and it's really paid off! From what I've heard, they're bad now.

Canada Actually

Have you ever seen part of a tree branch—sawed on each side—resting perfectly between two telephone wires?

I'm not sure if it's a common phenomenon, but there are two examples of this in the Arrowhead neighborhood of Kenmore, Washington alone. And boy is it captivating. How do the tree-branch-chunks end up trapped between the wires? Why didn't the tree cutters remove it, along with the rest of the branch? How have the chunks not fallen down in a wind storm?

If you don't have a clue what I'm talking about, that's OK. I have a SECOND topic for tonight's blog post.

The other topic...POLITICS!

Stephen Harper's nine-year reign as Canadian prime minister is over. And the new guy, Liberal party leader Justin Trudeau, is a hunk! Look at him! Looks like he could star alongside Kate Hudson in a rom-com aimed at 30-somethings. I mean, his name is Justin. Canada's fate is now in the hands of a guy named Justin. I love it. The future is now.

Sorry, ladies - he's taken!

Image by Jean-Marc Carisse via Wikimedia Common

Also, his dad was once the Canadian prime minister back in the day, which makes this election pretty historic. However, it seems his family connections were only incidental in his victory. The main reason he won is that people are sick of Stephen Harper. Nine years is probably enough. (That said, Canada's longest reigning PM was in office for 21 years!)

In other political news, Joe Biden—this country's hunkiest politician—is expected to announce his bid for presidency any minute now.

Goodnight,
Margaret

P.S. It's always so embarrassing when you can't remember the Canadian leader's name and you're talking to a Canadian. Do yourself a favor and memorize it right now. Repeat it 10 times to yourself:

Justin Trudeau
Justin Trudeau
Justin Trudeau
Justin Trudeau
Justin Trudeau
Justin Trudeau
Justin Trudeau
Justin Trudeau
Justin Trudeau
Justin Trudeau

Presented without comment...

With pride,
Margaret

P.S. You better watch it all!

When words fail you

UGH. I have nothing to write. I have nothing to say! I'm a nobody with a vanilla life. If it wasn't for this bowl cut, I'd be devoid of intrigue entirely.

But, instead of throwing in the towel and hitting the big, red 'delete' button on Madgespace, I shall endure! I SHAN'T GIVE UP.

Instead, I will let you in on the made-up, nonsensical lyrics Andy and I have for songs.


'Battlefield' by Jordin Sparks

• "Why does love always feel like a wagon wheel? A wagon wheel, a wagon wheel.."

Lean On' by Major Lazer & DJ Snake, (feat. MØ)

• "Farkis, Car2Go...all we need is somebody to lean on."

'Royals' by Lorde

• "That kind of luxe just ain't for us, we drive a different kind of bus."

Those lyric changes are't funny. They're not clever. They're not even interesting. But what they do indicate is that, if you spend enough time with someone, you form your own language. 

You also start to stockpile inside jokes that are so unfunny they're not so much jokes as 'inside thought moments'. These parallel brain experiences are set off by the smallest things—a certain word in a radio ad, the way the bus driver's cough sounds, a particular appetizer offering at a party. Whatever it may be, you'll look across the room at each other with a knowing grin and nod. Yes, we both caught that. We're thinking the same, pointless thing. Indeed, that man's cough sounded like that one part of that one YouTube video that we like to quote on occasion. No need to talk about it. Just a grin and a brief nod is enough. 

Couldn't find a good image for 'telepathy', so I Googled 'staring contest' instead.
The guy on the left has a pumpkin stem for hair.

Image by Vectorink via Wikimedia Commons

Goodnight, 

Margaret

P.S. I'm pretty sure this blog made zero sense, but it reminded me of that time Barbie and I said "There's a snake in my boot" in unison completely unprovoked. Something—an airplane passing overhead, the smell of popcorn wafting down the hall, a slight flicker in the light—must have caused us to both think it and vocalize it. But we'll never know exactly why it happened. 

Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies

You know what's worse than digging a piece of food out of your tooth with your tongue, only to discover upon biting that it's a bit of black pepper?

Picking a chunk of food out of your belly button, eating it, realizing it's a piece of granola bar and then remembering that you haven't eaten a granola bar since the morning—11 hours ago. 

Happened to Andy. Just now. I watched it happen. 

Here's a great pub quiz question for you: what's the scientific name for 'belly button'?
Answer: umbilicus

Image Stefano Bolognini via Wikimedia Commons

I shared that story with you because I think it's gross, funny and sadly relatable. But here's the kicker: I don't actually think it's gross. In fact, 99% of the time I express disgust, I'm just pretending. Maybe it's the camp counselor in me, maybe it's the fact that we only changed the sheets once a year growing up, but I've just never been someone who grosses out easily. Germs don't scare me. 

When it comes to things I pretend about, feigning disgust is the tip of the iceberg. I pretend to feel a certain way and care about certain things ALL THE TIME. Several times a day I find myself fake laughing, agreeing with someone when I actually disagree, and generally pretending to give a shite about things that are actually very boring. 

It's the old "no, that dress doesn't look fat on you" scenario. Better a white lie than a lifetime of loneliness. 

Later,
Margaret

P.S. One exception: when I write my book. When I finally get around to that, all bets are off. Grassyllama: Unfiltered

Add these things to your calendar

Over the past few years, I've found myself circling round to the same question over and over again:

Who accredits the accreditors? Is there an accreditation accreditation association?

Andy and I have discussed it and we reckon that it must be the government.

Well, doesn't look like that's going to be enough for a full blog post. Let's try this:

Add these things to your calendar:

• NOV 3: The release of Leah Remini's book / scientology exposé 

• NOV 4: Game 7 of the World Series

• NOV 6: New James Bold film out in cinemas

• NOV 20: 'The Hunger Games: Mockingjay' Part 2 out in cinemas

• DEC 4: New 'Macbeth' film out in cinemas

• DEC 25: Christmas / Birth of Kim K's second child (scheduled C-section for Xmas morn)

• DEC 26: England v. South Africa cricket

It's always good to have things to look forward to. Also, I don't know the exact date, but satsumas are going to start appearing in stores soon I think. 

Image by Tomomarusan via Wikimedia Commons

Love, 

Margaret

P.S. Noticed my left shoulder is way higher than my right. Worried it may be scoliosis. Perhaps they didn't test me correctly back in seventh grade.

Scary stuff

Today I nearly shat myself during a 10-mile run. And no, it wasn't the typical runner's dilemma (coffee + exercise = big D). It was because of a giant spider hanging off a fence. The thing was HUGE. Seriously. The size of a large couch pillow. I'm not kidding. Bigger than a chihuahua, with fangs, red eyes and long brown hair hanging off its eight double-jointed legs.

It was, of course, a Halloween decoration.

Still, that didn't stop me from yelping and nearly soiling my already disgusting running shorts (note to self: wash those soon).

OTHER STUFF

• Today was relaxing. I did the thing where you submerge in the bath, listen to the ambient water noise and feel your hair fan out. 

• Andy and I think it'd be funny if we drive all the Car2Gos in West Seattle to the same location, so it looks like they're having a party. It'd be an expensive project, but worth it for art's sake. 

• About to finish the second season of Broad City. I'm a fan. Kind of makes me want to live in New York, but that ship has already sailed considering I'm an old lady who's returned to Seattle to live, breed, work and die. 

• Someone walked by our window just as I was posing for this:

Whoops

Now, go take on the day. (Remember that? Where mah Dr. Laura fans at?)

Margaret

P.S. Wait, did I bury the lead? Yes, I went for a 10 MILE RUN. Hence, the pizza.

P.P.S. As if my pizza consumption is linked to my exercise levels. You know me better than that.

Are you old?

ARE YOU OLD?
Today at "book"club, we landed on something quite astute:

You're not old when you have a funeral to attend every other week. You're old when even your funeral calendar dries up. That's old. That's Grandma Martha level old.

Speaking of G-ma, she says you don't truly feel old until your children are senior citizens. Seems fair enough. But something else that is true of old age is that you can't distinguish between generations anymore. A 60-year-old vs. a 25-year-old? You don't see any difference. Everyone below 80 qualifies as "kids these days".

So, to wrap things up, if your funeral bell curve isn't making its descent, if your children aren't senior citizens and if you haven't pegged T-Swift and Oprah as around the same age, you're not old.

Thank you, Google Image search. Now, how quickly can I get this on my wall?

Image by Quinten Matsys via Wikimedia Commons

ONE LIFE = TWO ADJECTIVES

As I was walking along the beach with Andy the other day, I had a realization: a life is worth about two adjectives. That's all most people get. When you die, you'll be remembered fondly, in detail, for one generation. The following generation you'll be condensed into a handful of stories. After that, you're reduced to two adjectives. Maybe "Bubbly" and "Adventurous" or "Intelligent" and "Misunderstood" or "Pretty" and "Annoying" --- you get the idea. 

Take, for example, my Great Grandfather Horace Merkel. All that I really know about him is that he was a "self-made man" and had a "temper". It wasn't long ago that he was roaming the earth. I'm not that far removed from the guy. But still, that's it. 

Makes you think, what two adjectives do you want to mark your legacy? I'm gunning for 'beautiful genius'.

Sweet dreams, 

Margaret

My rules for cooking

In fourth grade I invented the best food ever:

Shell pasta smothered in Chivo. 

For those of you who aren't familiar, Chivo—traditionally a baked potato topping—is a thick sour cream substitute flavored with chives. I think it's been discontinued.

The Chivo had a way of packing itself perfectly into every nook and cranny of the conchiglie, turning each bite into a dairy-free sour cream explosion.

It was groundbreaking gastronomy way before its time.

Image via CalorieCount.com

Since those days of early culinary experimentation, I've developed a slightly more sophisticated approach to cooking. But only slightly.

MARGARET'S RULES FOR COOKING:

• Season every component of the dish individually before combining them

• Keep everything PIPING HOT

• Chop things up really small

• Don't skimp on the onions

• Grind some black pepper over everything

I would also recommend that you keep a pizza (Freschetta if you're in the US, ChicagoTown if you're in the UK) in the freezer at all times just in case. 

Goodnight,
Margaret

Solid eavesdropping

It seems I've naturally settled into a gentle Monday through Thursday blogging schedule. Let's go with it and see how things fare.

Andy and I are at the coffee shop today, ordering our two 8oz lattes, when a lady glides in on rollerblades. She approaches another lady—shorter, fatter, no blades—who is waiting by the counter for her coffee.

"You said you'd be here at 12:30!" rollerblades says in a thick Russian accent.

"Sorry! I had to watch my sister's kids!"

"Well you shouldn't say you're going to be here at a certain time and then show up an hour late!"

"I'm sorry! What was I supposed to do?"

We're all listening. The entire, otherwise silent coffee shop. Andy and I make eye contact with the barista. She raises her eyebrows.

This probably seems racially insensitive to you, considering the fact that I'm not even 100% sure they were Russian, but the honest truth is I LOVE these nesting dolls. My parents have a set and I was obsessed with it as a kid. The smallest one was TINY - the size of a grain of rice - and I adored it. That, and the fact that I acknowledge the fact that this could be seen as insensitive, means that it's not.

Image by BrokenSphere via Wikimedia Commons

On our way out, Andy and I pass the two women sitting at an outside table. Rollerblades is eating potato salad out of a tupperware. They're having a conversation in Russian. Things seem to have calmed down. All has been forgiven.

Once out of earshot, Andy and I wonder why they didn't choose to speak in Russian back in the coffee shop.


Cheers,
Margaret

P.S. I'm really into classic Herbal Essences. Not the new fangled, brightly colored ones with cute names (e.g. Hello Hydration), but the old school, straight-out-of-the-'90s Herbal Essences. Try it next time you run out of 'poo and 'tioner. The smell is intoxicating. If you're single, you won't be for long.

P.P.S. Andy drilled a hole in our bookcase for the WiFi router cords to poke through. The router is now disguised as a book. It's a fine achievement.

Pair of eyes with a "come-hither" gleam

I probably should get my realtor's license, sell one fancy house a year and spend the rest of my time eating peanut-butter-filled pretzels and writing a memoir.

If Tamra Judge can do it, then I certainly can.

The only problem is: I don't like sales and I don't like people. So, maybe it's not the right career move.

In other news, I'm sleepy...and listening to this isn't helping:





Zzzzzzzzzzzz...

Margaret

P.S. I love this part:

Mr. Sandman (male voice: "Yesss?") bring us a dream 
Give him a pair of eyes with a "come-hither" gleam

P.P.S. Anna and I once wrote new lyrics to this song. We replaced 'Mr. Sandman' with the Inglemoor High School German teacher 'Frau Zakowski'

Frau Zakowski...
JA?
Do bit sehr nett!

P.P.P.S. "Give him a lonely heart like Pagliacci" -- that's an actual lyric! Pagliacci? The pizza parlor? My former place of employment? It certainly made my ears perk up.

P.P.P.P.S. Fun facts about The Chordettes.

• Janet Ertel's daughter married Phil Everly of The Everly Brothers.
• Jinny Osborn was born right here in Seattle, Washington!
• They started out as a folk band but switched to barbershop.
• In 2012, Lynn Evens (still alive) performed 'Mr. Sandman' on a public broadcasting program. In the YouTube comments someone has written, "How did I get here?" I can truly relate. 

Image via Wikimedia Commons