And then I couldn't help but beguile my fellow car riders with the tale of the previous evening's perusal at work, going through the University of Chicago frontlist catalog (meaning the catalog of the upcoming season's new books that bookstores order to sell to shoppers) at work, and I noticed the announcement of the book Sade: Sex and Death, The Divine Marquis and the Surrealists, edited by Candice Black. I drew music notes and treble clefs and wrote "smooth operator" on it. My co-worker and I guffawed incessantly for three minutes and forty-seven seconds.
What has Sade been up to lately?
I don't really care. I just like making stupid jokes.
Also, I should mention that I was seated in my friend's Mini Cooper and I started rapping for the driver, but specifically the rap from from Madonna's "American Life" where she rhymes superduper with Mini Cooper. This was not as well received.
When I do things like this, I think in my heart of hearts I just want someone to go, "You're hilarious!" I have come to terms with this such that I have shared this point with my husband Joe. Now whenever we argue, even if it's totally inappropriate, just to end the argument he will say, "You're hilarious!"
I have not decided if this is better or worse than the advice Joe uses that my dad gave him at our wedding. My dad said, "You can always have the last word. That is, if the last word is Yes, dear."