[warning: this post is written by a hormonal peri-menopausal woman with a headache..who is about to turn 49 and isn't sure how she feels about that.]
I mostly love Christmas music. I’m a creature of habit and I have particular fondness for the old familiar tunes. I don’t usually enjoy hearing them all dolled-up and modernized for a newer-hipper audience. I truly don’t care how artsy someone may be and how “much improved” the tune is in their capable hands. If it was good enough for Bing Crosby it’s good enough for YOU, Mr. Young Hipp Whipper-Snapper. Leave it alone! And, also, nobody but Josh Groban should ever sing “O Holy Night”. Period.
I feel better.
I’ll feel even MORE better if I never have to hear “Baby , It’s Cold Outside” again. What part of “NO” does that guy not understand?! sheesh
I actually like the song, musically. It’s an interesting little duet. A couple of years ago we were listening to James Taylor and Natalie Cole’s version
and about three fourths of the way through the song my son shouts, “Dude! She’s said ‘NO’ about twenty times!” and that killed any charm it might have once had, for me.
And then there are those songs that are cute when they’re sung by children, or chipmunks. I enjoy them in that context. It’s a whole different story when a group of grown men are lamenting what they saw Mommy and Santa do last night. *shiver* I heard that version on the radio last evening and listened in stunned horror. My horror had two parts.
1) Really? You’re like – 75. Let it go, man.
2) It seems I have become the female Scrooge.
I wish I knew who sang that wretched version of “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus”. I’d love to link it for you all. You’ve been spared. You can thank me with cash. *wink*