Lazy blogging again. I'm busy. And in charge of catering tonight.
My brother loves to make up songs. A few years ago, I was regularly woken up by the sonarous sound of his Cheese-on-Toast song, which simply went:
Cheese on Toast,
Cheeese on Toooast.
To the tune of "Girls on Film"
Which would have been fine, had he not been a shift-worker in a nightclub at the time, and had he not been in the habit of having cheese on toast when he got home, anywhere between Four am and Seven.
Then there's the Chicken chant. One night my brother and I were cooking, and I wasn't in a good mood. So I'm standing there man-handling the raw chicken (Which I hate doing) and we had the following exchange:
He (animated, hopping from one foot to the other):"C-H-I-C-K-E-N. What does it spell?"
Me(confused): "Uh, Chicken?"
The thing that makes his songs and chants funny are the effort that goes into them. The Chicken song had a hopping-from-one-foot-to-the-other dance, and the "ChicKEN!" was delivered in a Chicken voice. And the fact that I just said "Uh, Chicken?" made his "ChicKEN!" hilarious. Now, every time we have Chicken, out it comes.
And, somehow, it only gets funnier with time.
And then there's this afternoons offering. We were conferring on dinner, and he wanted to have Tacos. I was in favour of Thai Chicken. He won. How?
By repeating the words taco-taco over and over again, every time I said Taco in what he fondly imagines is a Mexican accent. Even when I was checking the list of things we'd need, he said "Taco-Taco" and start laughing, which made me laugh. What should have been a one minute call about him picking me up from the Supermarket was a seven minute call that featured the word "Taco" at least fifty times.
By the time I get home, ten dollars says there's a song and dance in progress. Probably with props, given he'll be on his own.
12 hours ago